Authors’ Notes: I used a metaphor mixed with the erotica of this fic, consider it flavoring of the passion. Story is based off of “The Hobo’s: Sexy Car Wash” by Daeva-kun and the universe behind it.

*****

The sky was young and the world was turning. Green gave birth to an ever florescent array of life. The countryside was busy with people being people, animals being animals, and more often than you think animals being people and people being animals. An endless scope unfolding as the day gave up to a bright sunny morning. There in the city was such energy, such vibrant life, such enclosing mysteries.

Oh boy and the Saiyan’s, such magnificent animals. They act like people, but they are actually such proud and unbound animals. I must say that in all truth if they are not fighting, they are mating like two stars colliding. Both struggling for supremacy in their roles and each succeeding in their own dominance; both awaiting their chance to command. The dominances of the wolf and the dominance of the moon are that of the Saiyan’s.

The wolf calling to the moon demanding it come to Earth so it can dig’s its claws onto it surface and lay claim, but the is moon always beyond reach. The demands a more powerful display from the wolf to even have permission to coexist with the moon. The moon is always the night stalker of the wolf teasing and tangling the right of power every time it feels like it. The moon can never give in thought or else it would become a dull shine less slut. Becoming an effortless prey, why would a wolf how for that?

There has never been a Saiyan who wasn’t a wolf or a moon. Trunks a Saiyan parented by a Human and Saiyan has been given the unique balance of the human moon and the Saiyan wolf. The human moon is that of a slut, effortless for the Saiyan wolf and Trunk’s instincts demand a challenge, they demand a moon. Gohan was born of both a Human moon and wolf with the mixture of a Saiyan wolf disguised that of a moon. A mixture unheard of but it demands to be told so that the children of Earth may learn of love, lust, and the sex that we all howl over.

The scene an old yard surrounded by broken down buildings and hopeless businesses and our wolves Trunks and Gohan idly waiting for business. A sign next to an empty spot says ‘Car Wash 5 Bucks’. Trunks his hair an odd mixture of violet and pink tied up into a knot to keep his flowing mane from sticking to his face and head. Wearing black shorts cut from his former black sweat pants, breathing becoming a steadying declining worry. The air was humid, too humid for most to find the will to breathe, Trunks felt the violent heat try and burn his skin.

Looking at his body and seeing slight reddening from the sun spotting his body, a sense of contempt for the sun as if it was a mosquito. Standing on the carpet of unkempt grass waiting for any sign of anyone willing to pay for what they were selling. Gohan was a little less enthusiastic sitting near the buckets of water with the sponges and rags already inside. Soapy foam gathering at the top of the buckets leaning back he gave out a weary sigh.

Both found waiting far more exhausting than the effort put into labor. The only source of amusement at that time was for Trunks looking at the hips, groin, and ass of Gohan being concealed by his red cut off sweat pants. Licking his lips he remembered the tangy musky length of Gohan’s cock in his mouth, those heavy balls would squirm from his attention. Crossing his legs hoping to cover his half soft penis, Gohan was more into the hope for money.

“Just one car”, Gohan said “it would all be worth it for just one car”.

Trunk gave an agreeing grunt but more from him rubbing his leg against his penis which soon became more half hard then half soft. Wishing no car would come, Trunks wanted to put Gohan onto the ground and roughly burry himself into him; it was too hot not to fuck anyway. Then a car was sighted, driving down that isolated deserted road and seemingly drawn to the ‘Car Wash 5 Bucks’ sign. The car was a creamy vanilla color, black windshield and windows made the passenger anonymous.

The car parked close but not directly near Gohan’s and Trunk’s work area. A pigeon of a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and knee length shorts walked out from the car and proceeded to his apartment building.

“Wait”! Gohan called after the man, “don’t you want your car washed”?

The man looked at Gohan as if he came out of nowhere and looked at the sign and their operation, then with a snide snuff he said, “no… thank you, boy”.

“A come on we’ve been waiting all day, surely you would like to drive a clean car”, Gohan said trying his best to sell a peanut to a nut salesman.

“Are you saying that my car isn’t clean”?! The stubby man declared, “Listen here you punks get out of here before I call the cops and charge you for operating a business without a license”!

Gohan wasn’t the type to push back on such petty matters but Trunks on the other hand was, going to the pigeon man’s car he bent down and proceeded to lift it off the ground. The stubby little man looked in terror at the sigh before him; Trunks lifting the car over his head looked at the man with contempt.

“Listen you fat old man, this car is getting cleaned. Either we wash it or its going into the ocean your choice”! Trunks said with an air of finality.

The man gave in not wanting his car to be destroyed said squealing, “No! I’ll let you two wash my car… I’ll pay double just please don’t destroy my baby”!

Satisfied Trunks carried the car to their work station right next to the sign and set it down.

Gohan not wanting to seem as intimidating as Trunks said, “don’t worry we’ll take care of your car. It will be done shortly”.

“Good”! Squalled the little, fat, balding, pigeon man, “I am going to be back in a half hour if it’s not done by then I’ll…”.

Trunks gave a glare that made the man trail off and hurry to his apartment building.

Giving Trunks a disappointing look, and Trunks returning it with a mischievous smile, Gohan returned the smile as he pinned up his hair. Doing his hair in a little loop knot similar to Trunks he went to a bucket of the foaming water and took a rag. Kneeling down he proceeded in cleaning the tires, Trunks took his example and started with a rag in hand with the other side of the car hood. It felt good finally being able to put their muscles and energy to use, Trunks got into it as he worked from one side to the other.

Sexy tight magnificent buns caught his eye as he sighted Gohans ass just bulging out of those tight shorts. Opening his mouth he breathed hard as he fantasized about taming that ass, full frontal mounting. Hard core thrusting and a sweaty soapy cumming inside that tight ass feeling the pure pressure force his cock out but pure girth keeping him in the fray, a boner growing in his shorts Trunks needed satisfaction.

“Gohan”? Trunks asked pressing his groin against the car’s front.

Looking up at Trunks Gohan looked a bit miffed to have been interrupted, “yeah Trunks what is it”?

Trying to disguise his horny face for one of weary dissatisfaction with the job, which fooled Gohan who stood up and waiting for a response.

“There is a spot on the hood I can’t seem to remove can you help me get it out”? Trunks asked.

Gohan rolled his eyes and nodded as he went over to the front to examine the hood, looking at its now shinning surface he couldn’t see any spot. Then he felt his moist shorts being pulled from around his hips. Then teeth nibbling at his ass cheeks suckling around, and moving towards his entrance, which felt so damn good; Trunks knew how to do it so that your ass would tense and your groin would stretch and balls would squirm.

“Damn… Trunks mmmhhf, I can’t stand it when you do that to me”, Gohan said trying to be mad but feeling his ass squirmed sensitively.

Trunks then stuck his tongue in Gohan’s flexing hole, it tasted like sweat had been seeping into his bowels. The animal instincts of Gohan made his ass open up wide, awaiting its stimulation. The need for dominating the dominated one made Gohan reject Trunks tongue in his ass, the need to force Trunks inside him with his cock was stronger. Pull his head from his ass he brought his head to rest on his shoulder.

Knowing the gentle growling from Gohan to be that of assertion for desire made Trunks pulled his shorts down showing off his flexing ass, Trunks shorts gripped his thighs as Gohan’s red shorts lay on the ground; Trunk hugged his upper body to him as he lay on top of him and on the hood stabbing his cock around Gohans ass. The gaping maw sought out the cockhead and bit down hard, sucking Trunk’s cock inside of Gohan. The sensation of being fulfilled with every motion of Trunks made Gohan whimper in ecstasy, Trunks wrapped his arms around Gohans neck and rode his ass. At first it was a gentle session of Saiyan lovemaking Trunk steady thrusts made Gohan sensitive and begging for a wilder fuck.

Trunks was dominating at first but Gohans turned vicious he pressed Trunks hips to his own and forced a rhythm of thrusting that made Trunks ache from movement. Saiyan fangs were pulsing in Gohans skull as his submitting dominance made him the benefiter and Trunks the sufferer. Pain was pleasure for the wolf Trunks now and the now revealed submitting wolf Gohan had pleasure in Trunks pain.

A cock of pure blood colored scarlet forced itself in and out of Gohan begging for a mutual satisfaction and release from their paradise in hell. Then a cork eased and Trunks felt his muscles grow and flex getting ready to burst along with his desire. Gohan was a demon who wanted to suck Trunks of all his powers, such a powerful love made hateful lust possible for them.

“Fuck my balls”! Trunks wailed as he suddenly felt what he could offer pour out of him.

Balls twitching Trunks felt him relax and a sense of being completely refreshed took over him. Giving a gratifying sigh kissing Gohan on his panting mouth he rose and put on his shorts and looked at Gohan. A role fulfilled both owned one another, both had their love given and received. Gohan recovered soon his ass was relaxed and happy; a euphoria of affection filled his chest and stomach. Standing up on newly strengthened legs Gohan looked himself over he happened to cum all over the car and his ass was leaking chunks of cum.

Pulling up his shorts he felt the oozy Trunk juice fragment inside him as he began washing the hood. Their time was expiring soon and he didn’t want their efforts to go for naught. Trunks joined him and they had just finished washing off the soap when the guy emerged from his building. Standing by their handiwork as the pigeon man walked over. Inspecting his car he found himself satisfied greatly at her clean polish.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out ten bucks and handed it to Trunks, “here” the man said as he go into his car.

The money was reward enough for Gohan and Trunks as they started carrying the buckets and rags as the man drove off again. Gohan let his hair down as he felt the trickles of sweat and water trail down his back. Motioning with his head for Trunks to follow, Trunks sort of lagged behind so he could see the oozy wet cum spot grow on Gohan’s shorts.

Story Concluded…

*****

There were perks to having your homework finished, which usually considered free time as one of the best courses of action. For Gohan, this meant curling up on the couch with a good book and reading through it with the lights on overhead at ten in the evening with the dogs barking away in the distance in an almost peaceful way.

He smiled, placing a cold glass of water on the coffee-table, taking a seat on his couch, getting ready to spend the night with his favourite pastime. His mother had presented him with a series that he had not been able to get around to reading. Films for the books had already come out, but as a true nerd, he wanted to read the books before even thinking about watching the movies. Apparently, they were about this little boy that had his parents killed when he was small and had received a lightning scar. He became a wizard, according to his mother.

Whatever the case, he was told that he just had to read it. So, here he sat, pulling The Philosopher’s Stone toward him and cracking it open. He read the short synopsis before beginning and then looked over the names of the chapters, as if to prepare for their contents.
Gohan admitted, it did look interesting, at least at first glance.

He moved his back to rest against the arm of the couch, holding the book before him and turning to the first page.

*Ding Dong*.

“The boy who lived -” Gohan stopped, raising his head as his doorbell rang throughout the house and caused a confused college student to blink. Gohan moved to stand, placing his book down on the table and making his way out of the living room and to the door.

He peeked through the peep-hole to see his purple-haired family friend standing outside his door with a rather unpleasant expression on his face. Immediately, he began to wonder what could have brought the other to his doorstep with such a downcast emotion.

There was no way that Gohan could have known what he was doing by opening the door to his friend, but he did it all the same, slowly turning the large lock and then the smaller, pulling open the door until he saw all of Trunks Briefs standing before him.

Trunks’ expression changed from dark and broody to a happy grin. “Ah, good. I was afraid that you would not be home, Gohan.” He looked behind him at the darkness not illuminated by streetlamps. “I am really sorry for dropping by unexpectedly and so late… but I was hoping I could ask you to let me stay here for a few days.” His smile faltered, but he managed to salvage it.

He was not fooling anyone. Gohan could tell that it was forced.

Indeed, the fact that Trunks was standing before him with no obvious means of transportation had Gohan look outside with a curious gaze, frowning slightly. “No problem, but… how did you get here? I don’t see your car.”

Trunks rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… the thing is that dad kicked me out of the house before I had a chance to grab anything like the keys to my Mustang or any clothes.”

Now that Gohan could get a better look at him, Trunks did look extremely exhausted and quite warred. It must have been a rough conversation with Vegeta. “It’s not like I could let you just wander the streets, now can I?” Gohan smirked. “What kind of friend would I be?”

“A poor one?” Trunks managed a rather teasing jab.

Gohan chuckled, nodding. “Come on in.” He moved aside to let his friend enter through; closing the door once he had entered, locking it as it had been before.

Trunks stood in the entry way, looking around to see if anything had changed since he had last been in his friend’s home. He could find nothing and simply watched Gohan’s movements at the door.

The now host proceeded into the living room, taking an immediate left and heading into the kitchen for the refrigerator.

“Look… I’m really sorry for dumping this all on you…” Trunks followed, stopping just behind Gohan, resting his hip against the counter with a grateful smile – this one real – on his face.

Gohan shook his head, as if to say that it was fine and that he didn’t mind – which he didn’t – and turned his head to smile back at him, opening the fridge and peeking his head inside and biting his lip thoughtfully. “How about a beer?”

The idea of alcohol seemed to cause Trunks a bit of trouble, struggling with it, at least, from what Gohan could see. After a minute or two and Gohan eventually raising his gaze to stare at his friend, he voiced a completely different thought. “Are you sure you don’t have anything… harder? If you catch my drift.”

This brought out a light chuckle from his college host. “What kind of a question is that? Of course I do. All you have to do is ask.” At that, he reached in and grabbed one of his beers (wishing to stay relatively sober and perhaps a bit buzzed) and pulled out, closing the refrigerator door and standing on his toes to reach the cabinet up above and removed a bottle of Scotch. “Will this do?”

“Heck yes!” Nodding happily, Trunks walked forward, a bright grin on his features as he took the bottle in his hands and stared at it in an admiring way. He knew that Gohan wasn’t much of a drinker, but that was okay because he always had something in stock for Trunks to satisfy his thirst for it. He’d been in Gohan’s house many times, in fact, enough times that he walked straight to the cabinet that held the glasses and obtained one.

“Well, you enjoy that, ‘cause I’m going to stay sober, if you don’t mind.”

Trunks turned around and playfully stuck out his tongue, pouring himself a large glass of just plain alcohol.

That was, after all, how he preferred it. Most people liked to have the alcohol mixed into other drinks, but not Trunks. To him, the taste of alcohol was a saintly thing, only deluded by the addition of anything else. Whether it was soda, oranges, or anything else, really, it was just a huge waste.

Gohan rolled his eyes, walking into the living room and taking a seat on the couch while patiently waiting for Trunks to follow, which he soon did after scavenging around the kitchen, gently plopping down and putting his feet up on the coffee-table.

This brought Gohan to bite his lip and stare at where Trunks’ feet now lay, wondering why Trunks had been over to his house countless times and yet he still didn’t understand that he hated it when the other put his feet there. He managed to keep from telling him off and rolled his eyes, ignoring it as best as he could.

He took a giant gulp from his drink and then glanced around, seeing that the television wasn’t on and then noticing that there was a book set out on the end of said coffee-table. “So… what did I interrupt you doing?”

Gohan shrugged. “Not much of anything. Mum keeps raving about these books and how great they are, but I’d never been able to get around to reading them. So, she gave me the series and I was just getting started on it. Like I said. Not much.” He pressed his back against the back of the couch, raising up an arm and draping it over the top in a comfortable fashion.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d much rather be hanging out with his friend anyway.

Trunks raised an eyebrow and scoffed at it. “That seems like such a long waste of time. I don’t understand why you just don’t watch the films like a normal person. There’s no point in reading the books.”

This small statement had Gohan frown, shaking his head rather vigorously. “I would have to completely disagree. If you think about the information that are in books and how much the films cut up and shove it all into less than 2 hours, you realize that there’s a lot missing. There are very few that actually depict the book well.”

Trunks rolled his eyes. “Right. Like what?”

“I think that the 10th Kingdom did a very good job keeping to the storyline. It is in three disks, but hell, that’s well worth the time. I felt like I didn’t even have to read the book, but I had anyway.”

“Of course.” Trunks couldn’t help but tease.

Gohan rolled his eyes, picking up his beer and taking a sip of it with a soft exhale after it went down. “Well… whatever. How about we watch a movie or something to keep ourselves entertained? It’s better than just sitting here making small talk, yeah?”

His guest shrugged, gulping down the rest of his glass and sitting up to refill it. “A movie sounds good, but do you have something in mind? Or are you just throwing it out there?” Trunks smirked, swirling around his drink before taking another large gulp.

“You’re into action, aren’t you? I don’t have a bad selection, but most of mine are about-“

“Chick-flicks?” Trunks interrupted, poking fun at his friend.

Gohan blushed, once again rolling his eyes as he pulled out his movie drawer and started to sift through what he had seen recently and what he might be interested in watching. He wished that Trunks would offer to come and pick a film because often Trunks would just tell him to pick another movie instead of offering any help toward the actually choice. “I’m not sure what you’d be into, but I do have…” He trailed off, finding something that might catch his guest’s attention.

Trunks raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah?”

“How about…” Gohan bit on the inside of his mouth and pulled out ‘The Nightmare before Christmas’. “This movie?”

He held it up for Trunks to see.

However, despite Gohan’s polite and kind gesture, Trunks did not even look at the cover or the title before agreeing to it. Since Trunks was an argumentative person, Gohan frowned, rubbing the back of his neck as he glared at his friend. It made Gohan wish that he’d picked any movie that he’d first seen instead of weighing the stupid pros and cons of picking a film for entertainment. If he could have chosen anything and the other would have been fine with it, what was the point?

“Sure. I’m up for anything.” All he wanted to do was drink the alcohol he was given and get into such a drunken stupor that he wouldn’t remember the fight he had had with Vegeta and what it was about. Spending time with his friend was definitely a much better alternative to the shouting match that he and his father broke into. It was a little depressing to think that he’d fought with his father about something so silly and stupid as… well, it was not important. The point of being where he was was to forget the stupid argument.

Gohan kneed the drawer closed and strode over to the DVD player, bending over to press the eject button and waiting until he could insert the disk into the slot when it popped out. He stayed focused on it until the slot retreated back into the system.

Trunks’ like-wise purple eyes fell to half-mast and then blinked softly as he eyed the nice rump before him. He had a clear view of it and as he noticed that he was actually staring at his host’s ass, he raised an eyebrow, as if to reproach his action. Maybe he was already drunk, and after two glasses of Scotch, who knew anymore?

“Alright, it’s in. Hopefully you’ll like it.” Gohan straightened up, turning around and heading back over to the couch where he took an Indian stance instead, folding his legs under his buttock and then folding his arms before him while pressing his back into the couch’s cushion.

His purple haired guest did what he could to keep his eyes from drifting away from the television screen and toward Gohan, but the more he drank, the more he found it difficult to do anything that his brain commanded anymore.

Just as the monsters in Halloween Town began to sing about “Making Christmas”, Trunks began to slide down and lose all of his bodily functions. He hiccuped, bringing Gohan’s attention to his inebriated guest. If Trunks was even watching the move anymore, Gohan was not able to tell.

He just sat there – if you could count slumped to the point that his back was where his buttock was a second before and his head where his back was as sitting -, eyes often flashing up and then back down as if they were attempting to keep the body they were attached to awake.

Trunks pulled his drink up to his lips and missed his lips, the alcohol spilling over his neck and shirt.

Gohan rolled his eyes, reaching over and wresting the glass from his inebriated friend. “You’re obviously too drunk, time to get you into bed.” Gohan shook his head with a loving smile, as if he could not believe that Trunks had done that to himself. He stood, moving to turn off the television and did the same with the DVD player as well.

Trunks just mumbled in jest, “You… but… me… we… that… skeleton…,” but each sentence was as incomprehensible as the last. Even if Gohan had all night long to decipher them, he might have been able to, but Trunks was libel to choke on the alcohol he was still trying to throw down his gullet.

“Uh huh, okay, Trunks. Let’s get you up and into a nice warm bed.” He emphasized warm in hopes that Trunks would find that he was cold and would feel more inclined to get someplace warmer.

Gohan gripped Trunks’ underarm, pulling him up to stand, taking the other arm and placing it over his neck while helping him to hovel toward the stairs.

As far as he could tell, his plan worked. Perhaps a little too well.

The idea of getting warm caused Trunks to more hug his host, almost groping him with his random movements. Because of this, it was extremely difficult. It seemed that Trunks wasn’t even able to control his legs and it might’ve just been easier for Gohan to carry him bridal-style up the stairs and into the bedroom, but Trunks had always disliked being treated in such a womanly way.

The mere thought was cute and in many ways a form of hilarity.

Gohan reached the bedroom door, opening it with one hand in an awkward fashion, then using his arm to push it ajar and practically having to pull Trunks to the bed. It was hard to even get him to sit on it, but he managed it, before attempting to get some night clothes for the two of them.

Trunks seemed to cry out and startled Gohan as he turned around and saw Trunks looking quite displeased.

“What?”Nothing seemed to be wrong…

“Don’t… don’t go…”

His warmth must have made Trunks completely aware that he was in the room with someone. Gohan couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for just trying to get a pair of clothes. He returned to the bed and climbed onto the bed. “Fine… I’m here.”

Those bright purple orbs gazed at him before he fell onto his back with a quiet girlish giggle, putting on a stupid smile.

“Y’know… I have seen you drunk so many times before and you always act extremely odd. Why do you keep doing it? Aren’t you… embarrassed?” Gohan figured there was no harm in asking the question, but as he could have guessed, the answer was odd.

“I’m on Gohan’s bed…” Trunks slurred. “Never thought I’d be ‘ere…”

This statement had Gohan stop in his attempt to place Trunks under the covers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Trunks said nothing at first, lolling his head to the right and then to the left again, keeping that stupid smirk on his face. “Don’t tell

Gohan… but…” He giggled again, pulling his legs up into his chest and hugged them against him.

Gohan waited, blinking curiously. “Don’t tell him… what?”

“Don’t tell ‘im that I love ‘im.” He said this and then giggled again.

It was such an odd thing to say. Gohan didn’t know what to say. What could he say? If he said anything, the boy wouldn’t remember a lick of it in the morning. And if one followed that logic, why not just tell him the truth?

“That’s funny.” He climbed into the bed pulling the balled up Trunks to the top of the bed and lifted the covers up to soon cover him with them, taking his comforter and draping that over the drunken boy.

Trunks then slowly unclenched his body and spread out a little more, grabbing the pillow and hugging it as close as he could to his body.

“I never told you, Trunks, because you were always being hit on by women. Whenever we would walk through the halls the girls would just swoon the moment you looked at them.” Gohan turned off the lamp –the one that he had accidentally left on that morning – climbing under the covers as well. “I’d get so jealous that I only wanted you to look… look at me. So… yeah. I guess you could say that I love you too.”

The drunk shook his head, letting go of the pillow and instead hugging Gohan’s torso and pressing his cheek against the other’s chest. “Dad found out… that I like him… he didn’t like that. Didn’t like that…. though…”

With that, everything seemed to click.

Trunks came here to me because he liked me. Vegeta and he must have been fighting about this… I wonder if he found out from dad… Gohan’s eyes softened as he ran his fingers through Trunks’ long purple hair. He won’t remember telling me this… but fuck if I care.

“I love you, Trunks.” Gohan made sure that he looked serious as Trunks raised his head and looked into his dark brown hues. “Forget what Vegeta thinks, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy. If you’re happy here… with me… you can live here until the end of time.”

Trunks pressed his face into Gohan’s chest, mumbling something.

Gohan caught the end of it and just smiled.

There were some tears falling from his eyes. “I love Gohan… Don’t… don’t tell me he doesn’t. Don’t…”

Gohan parted some of the purple hair and kissed his forehead. “It’s alright, Trunks. He does. And he always will.”

Trunks nodded his head and it seemed to take him very little time to pass out in Gohan’s arms, falling into a deep slumber.

It wasn’t until an hour or two later that Gohan finally began to follow. He just laid there with his arm cradling Trunks’ sleeping head, watching the other slumber peacefully.

Authors’ Notes: Updated slowly, originally intended to be a oneshot but shall be continued because the PwP had too much miniscule plot.

thoughts
.+++. < -Time/scene skip

*****

It took Gohan a week to realize that his dirt on Trunks held no weight against what the lavender-haired brat had against him. What was stopping Trunks from saying “Oh hey guys, guess what, I totally fucked Gohan” to everybody? “Trunks is gay” seemed to pale in comparison, and seemed well… redundant after the fact….

Now, why was Gohan all that concerned with it? Well for starters, he was married, and then there was… no just leave it at that. Infidelity was bad enough, no need to expand. So, Gohan realized that he needed something else, he needed a new piece of dirt to hold over the brat’s head…

It took Gohan another two weeks to find it, and he didn’t really find it, or should he say it was Trunks who found him.

“Shit! Gohan! I’m sorry!” Trunks said as he burst through the door of his office.

“Now, now Trunks, is that any language to be using in front of your professor?” Gohan said but not casually. No he said it almost angrily.

“I promise I won’t do it again! Just… just can you let me do it? Right here? Right now?” He said as he fumbled and dug into his bag. “I’ve got everything right here! Please!”

Gohan leaned back in his chair, half amused, half confused. He was also partially embarrassed, since what Trunks said was stirring up memories that twisted his sense of reality, but he wasn’t admitting that. “You may need to elaborate Trunks.” If they had not… Gohan probably would have mocked his sexual-sounding comment.

The rummaging demi looked up. “Didn’t you notice I wasn’t in class today?”

Gohan’s eyes hardened, for more reasons than one. “I’m not your personal stalker Trunks. I don’t pay attention to who is in my class. I have over a hundred students. Where were you instead of in my lecture? Studying? Sleeping in because you were partying? I don’t give exceptions. You weren’t there on time.”

“Com’on Gohan! You’ve known me since I was in diapers!” Trunks pleaded.

However, something else seemed to shine in Trunks’ eyes as he took in Gohan’s first words. It was a glimpse of something heart wrenching that he saw only once before. Gohan’s gaze softened unintentionally.

“Please? Pops dragged me off to train yesterday and I spent most of the night studying.”

Gohan sighed and he pushed up his glasses. He pulled out a test copy reserved for those taking it at a later date. “You have one hour.”

As Gohan continued making the assignment for the following week, his mind began to wander. He shouldn’t have let Trunks write the exam – if the brat studied before, he wouldn’t have slept in and missed his class. However… that gave him merits, it gave him the dirt that he’d been looking for.

“Time’s up.” Gohan said after glancing at the time and he held out his hand. When the paper was handed to him, he put it into an empty drawer in his desk.

“You never use your desk – hey Gohan!” The brat protested.

“You do realize if you had studied beforehand, you would have gone to sleep on time and arrived to my class on time.”

“Oh com’on Gohan! You’re not doing this to me are you!” Trunks frowned.

“They say two wrongs don’t make a right, but two wrongs prevent one another.” The black-haired hero said, just short of glaring at Trunks.

Gohan saw as confusion changed to understanding, then into malice before it finally settled on danger. It was that dangerous expression which came from a distant past, which haunted the older demi, which allured him.

“Gohan…”

That voice!

“Is it really true? Are you really going to blackmail me? What did I do to deserve this treatment?” Trunks had him, he had him good. Gohan turned his head. He couldn’t fall into the trap! He couldn’t let Trunks secure his hold! He couldn’t release his grasp on reality! “I thought you loved me…”

His hand slipped.

“Gohan…”

The quivering in the voice that repeated his name resounded – multiplied – and it caused the stable ground he was grasping onto to crumble, collapse, and he fell back into the chasm that was illusion.

Guilt filled him, Kami did he feel horrible. Trunks sounded so sad – Gohan turned to look at the prince – he looked so sad! Those features which had always been so serious and fearful were filled with sorrow and a fear of a completely new kind. How could he have done such a thing! How could he blackmail Trunks! The man had been through enough already! “Oh Trunks…. I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…” His hand moved out to caress and cup Trunks’ face.

Trunks’ leaning into the hand and his hand supporting Gohan’s snapped the last string. It locked the Son into that comfortable fantasy and wouldn’t let him go. No longer was this man his student, but he was transformed by Gohan’s too-willing mind, he had become the one man that Gohan wanted, that he loved, the one he couldn’t stop loving and the one he missed – yearned – for. He was the Trunks that Gohan could never have.

Cautiously, Trunks leaned in, one of his arms moving to the desk in balance, and he let his lips brush against Gohan’s pair in a very feather-like manner. Then those very same lips moved to whisper in his ear. “You were so mean Gohan… I never thought you would do such a thing.”

A shudder travelled down his body. Trunks… his voice, it sounded so hurt, yet it sounded so beautiful. “I’m really sorry Trunks…” He remembered how that voice lowered once the composure slipped, and he craved to hear it again. Trunks was so close, Gohan could smell his body ripening, feel his heat radiating, hear his breath changing, taste his skin sweating, see his hair prickling.

The arm on the desk flexed as Trunks lifted a knee to join it. His movements were slow and deliberate as he crawled up on all fours before letting one hand tightly grip and pull on Gohan’s tie. His mouth opened and his teeth tugged on the ear he previously teased with his tongue.

“Then I suppose you need to prove it – prove that you love me, prove that you are sorry.” He whispered lowly.

Gohan watched with heavy eyes as the man of his dreams began to seduce him. The test lay forgotten in the half-opened drawer, and once again did Trunks become his world, the center of his universe. He tilted his head and he kissed Trunks’ ear that was by his lips. “Then what do you want?” He asked shakily. He’d do anything for Trunks.

“Mmm…” Trunks groaned into his ear. “You’ll just have to figure that out, won’t you?” Even before he finished speaking did he pull Gohan against him with the tie while he kept his eyes hidden behind lavender lashes.

Gohan couldn’t read Trunks’ expression, he couldn’t tell what the prince was thinking, and it was bothering him, yet exciting him.

Trunks leaned back, the hand that was supporting him had moved so that his entire forearm lay flush against the desk. His hips tilted forward, his shoulders hovered over the edge, his torso lay stretched across the surface. All the while Trunks had pulled Gohan down with him, knees on either side of the Son’s waist before stealing a kiss, moving his lips sensually.

And Gohan obliged, both of his hands settled on either side of the prince. As he moved his lips in response, Trunks’ tongue slipped out to push into Gohan’s mouth almost forcefully. His tie was tugged again and again and left no route to escape.

Trunks really had a thing for his ties…

With a feverous and natural submissiveness, Gohan continued to prompt his love on. For some reason, just having Trunks dominate him was something alluring in itself, something that turned him on, something that he sought after, something that he needed. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that watching – feeling – Trunks lose his normal composure and control was erotic.

Trunks pulled away from Gohan to kiss his neck. “Kami, Gohan, you’re so hot.” His tongue flicked out and glided along his neck.

“You…” Gohan shuddered at the mere notion. “You want me.”

“Mm… who wouldn’t?” Trunks asked with a chuckle and the hand holding his tie moved up to loosen it.

What was running though that brilliant mind right now? What new method would Trunks use to make him submit? The mere prospect made the Son shudder in anticipation.

Unravel for me, show me that side of you again…

“But there’s one other thing I want.” The voice was relatively neutral, but it was that hint of audible lust that made Gohan shudder once again.

“Anything Trunks. I’d do anything for you.”

A smirk appeared on Trunks’ face. “I hoped you’d say that.”

Fuck! That went straight to his dick. He didn’t even notice that Trunks removed his tie until it was twirling in the air around Trunks’ forefinger below him.

“I want you to prove your love to me.” Trunks clenched the strip of fabric with his fist in a very Vegeta-like manner and stopped the twirling dead in its tracks. A dangerous yet sexy gleam was in those blue depths before the prince reversed their positions – flipping Gohan beneath him. Next he unravelled the tie that was around his hand while straddling Gohan’s waist. “I want you to show me your love without the use of your hands.” The Son’s tie dangled from Trunks’ hand in an almost hypnotic manner.

As Trunks knelt above him, as he wore that kind and questioning smile, as he held the potential bondage in his hand, Gohan didn’t know what to think. Yet, he was willing. If Trunks wanted to prove himself by this method he would. It was his fault, he shouldn’t have blackmailed his love. “Then let me…” He whispered and removed the shirt from his chest slowly before placing it on a chair carefully.

Still sitting up, Gohan let Trunks tie his wrists behind his back. The prince’s arms ended up wrapping around his torso and the sensation send shivers of delight through his body. Even though there was hardly anything sexual in the embrace, the action itself was typically depicted as one of affection. Yes, that was what he wanted… not just Trunks’ body but something more than that. He did not only lust after this man from the future, but he was in love with him. He wanted a relationship – all of its peaks and ditches – with Trunks, he wanted to live and love with Trunks… yes he wanted Trunks. It had all started at the tender age of ten – when the lavender-haired time traveller stole his heart and carried it off into the future. Now that the thief was back, Gohan would do anything to prove that he deserved that criminal’s heart.

A final slip of the fabric confirmed the bondage – even though they both knew it was only symbolic in nature – and the arms moved back to Trunks’ side. It was disappointing, yes, but the Son would not give up. He would earn Trunks back, he would gain the heart that he’s pined after for almost two decades, hewould prove his love. With a tilt of his hips, Gohan displayed his semi-hard member. “Nn… Trunks…” He let his carnal desires seep into his whispered voice. “I love you.” The low, husky whispers continued and they surely reached Trunks’ ears, as a Saiyajin’s – demi or not – should.

An almost unnoticeable body twitch was accompanied by a cocky reply. “Are you telling me that this is your idea of proving your love Gohan? If so, it’s a little… disappointing.” A soft smile curved the luscious lips that Gohan yearned to taste.

His voice didn’t help matters much either – it was seductive, teasing, alluring, taunting… yet there was some truth to it as well. That was fine, it wasn’t as if he had any ulterior motives to saying those three words anyway. Gohan smiled before scooting closer to Trunks’ hips. “I do hope my words aren’t disappointing if they stood alone.” The Son mimicked Trunks’ tone and arced his hips forward again. “Because it’s only you who can make me like this with your mere presence. Only you who can make my pulse race just with a whiff of your scent. Only you who can clench my heart with a mere syllable.” Gohan arced further, letting his bare chest come into contact with the cloth of Mirai’s shirt and the muscles beneath it. “It beats for you – it beats because of you.”

Trunks bit his lip – in what Gohan didn’t know – but he wouldn’t let Trunks ruin the temple that was his body so Gohan said in his hushed voice, “mmnn… don’t do that love.” He leaned up to connect their lips together. He’d fix the wound. “It’s not nice to harm your own body.” Gohan could feel an answer in Trunks’ nether regions and a low moan was muffled between their lips. Kami… an aspect was one thing, reality on the other… Did Gohan ever want that hardening organ in him once again. “T-Trunks…” The Son gasped quietly. “Only you who can make me tremble with need.” As if to prove his point, a shudder shook Gohan from head to toe. “Only you who can make me beg. Please, please, Trunks. I want you, I need you, I love you. Will you please forgive me? Only you can satisfy this unending need I have for you.”

I want you hold you, I want to cling to you. Please Trunks; forgive me. Gohan looked up at Trunks with a pleading look in his eyes and kissed him hard.

“Fuck me Trunks.”

Those harshly whispered words seemed to be the catalyst Trunks needed. The lavender-haired prince’s hands grasped at Gohan’s face, his palms crushed his ears and his fingers dug into his scalp. He yanked the other demi desperately while answering the hard kiss with his tongue – thrusting it into the unexpecting but willing mouth.

Yes! This was exactly what he wanted – Trunks unleashed – and Gohan knew that there was still so much more to see! Gohan manoeuvred his body before wrapping his legs around Trunks’ waist and used the leverage to grind their hips together. More! More! His legs clung to the other tightly in need. He wanted Trunks to feel his excitement, he wanted to cause Trunks even more excitement. He still remembered the last time in crystal clarity and he wanted a repeat. “Please!” Gohan begged.

Trunks smirked and paused a moment before he roughly pushed Gohan back on the desk. His hands grappled at Gohan’s belt, releasing the belt and clasp – lessening the tension – before he worked on his own shirt – first loosening his tie and sliding it out of the knot and then pushing each button out of their holes tantalizing slow. Gohan watched with hungry eyes, squirming as his member hardened at the display and his legs slackened around Trunks’ waist, too distracted as Trunks’ shirt and tie were removed. It seemed that even the lavender-haired hero had lost his patience as his own belt and pants were freed as quickly as Gohan’s. His member pressed against the remaining confines before Trunks helped it pop out – hard and proud.

“Do you want this?” Trunks asked huskily and gave a long stroke to the object in question.

Even as Gohan swallowed in anticipation, he could feel his own member twitch in respond to both the words and tone. Damn was Trunks ever unrestrained! The Son nodded – of course he wanted it! Who wouldn’t?

“Then come and get it.” The prince said with a twitch of his fingers, a widening grin, and pulled down Gohan’s pants to reveal the hard member and supple ass. Once observing his work, he stroked himself again – slowly – and closed his eyes in pure pleasure. “Mmnn… Gohan…”

Ah fuck, he was going to blow right now if he didn’t do something! So the demi flexed his abdominals and lifted his ass before he directed it towards Trunks’ hard member. The other demi saw what his lover was trying to do and assisted with the positioning and supported his cock with his hand. The Gohan could feel the head pushing against his opening before he carefully descended – feeling the girth with much more detail than before. He wouldn’t deny that it was painful, but things would get better – so much better – and that kept him going and once Trunks was fully in, Gohan let himself relax.

It was Trunks’ turn to act – and the first thing he did was remove Gohan’s pants completely. He followed with moving his own remaining clothes so that they dangled around his knees. “Now Gohan,” the prince whispered, “I want you to fly.”

Gohan was curious at the request but he obeyed anyway and began to float above the desk.

The Son soon learned the reasoning as Trunks positioned them so that he was kneeling on the desk and he brought Gohan back down to the surface. His pants and shoes had sometime fallen off, and both demis were completely nude.

But Gohan was getting impatient. Having Trunks inside of him but doing nothing was driving him insane, and because of the prince’s arms, Gohan couldn’t urgently pull his lover closer with his legs, having them pinned between them. So he did the only thing he could do – arc his back.

And he gasped at the movement it caused inside of him. Did he really miss it this much? Oh Kami… he wanted even more. “T-Trunks… M-Move!”

Trunks let out a low moan and slowly began to move. Out, in, out, in. It was simple, but it was as much preparation Gohan was going to get today. A hand soon crept onto his inner thigh and rubbed circles on the skin there causing even more waves of pleasure and tension. “Gohan.” Kami, his voice was spoken by an angel. “Are you ready?”

With a nod, Gohan realized that this was going to be the last thing his composed, calm, and cautious Trunks was going to say before all formalities were forgotten within the pleasure and need. But Gohan craved for that – seeing the crack in Trunks’ actions was just so damn hot – and the thought that only he could do that just turned him on even more. Then he felt it, he felt the beginnings of the frantic movements that aimed towards his –––

Oh FUCK yes!

“Tr-mmph!” Right. Quiet, quiet.

His own coherency was lost as well and his body moved and arced in tandem with Trunks’ hips. His own movements were confined and limited, but somehow that was fine – more than fine. The thought of Trunks overpowering and controlling him…. His world was focused on that sole thought, on the pleasure, the lust, Trunks himself, and the movements created between – within – them. How he wanted to voice his pleasure that built up, the wondrous tension, that lustrous drive, but he had to keep quiet. He couldn’t even remember why, except that it was important. Instead, Gohan let his body tell the story, he forced every one of his emotions to the surface of his body and within the depths of his eyes. His body spoke the words that his mouth could not.

His neck craned in pleasure, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes glistened with lust, his mouth gaping in silent moans, his toes curled in anticipation, and his ass clenching in need.

Gohan could both see and feel the tell-tale signs of Trunks’ pleasure as well, and it just drove his lust even further. There was this glint in the blue eyes that held his gaze – so much fire – there was this tremble in the hand that stroked his cock – so much need – and there was this occasional twitch in the cock that penetrated his ass – so much tension. Trunks was almost gone and Gohan knew he would follow close behind.

“A-Ah…” The broken gasp escaped those luscious lips before he could feel a warm essence filling him in one, two, three… Gohan lost count and concentrated on that beautiful face before him – those eyes closed in ecstasy, that parted mouth, that head thrown back and that whisper of his name before he, too, feel over the edge while silencing his exclamation to a gasp.

There were a few moments as they rode down from their high and then Gohan heard the shuffling of fabric before the tie bonding his wrists was removed. He turned towards his saviour with a smile, only to be greeted with a dark smirk and a tie dangling hypnotically.

Oh shit! Oh shit! This was not happening! Confinement, lack of control… Not only was Trunks fucking with his mind and body, he had to fuck with his heart too! The fucking brat just twisted his Trunks, he had just perverted the heroic, calm, and passive saviour! Trunks was never controlling, he was never possessive! He was going to pay!

Gohan glared, snatched the tie and put his clothes on before opening the window. “Get out, get the fuck out before I throw you out!”

Trunks was still wearing his smirk as he casually walked towards the window and flew out of it, having the gall to even give a small wave in farewell.

Gohan slowly ran his hands through his hair with shaking arms. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Trunks was going to bloody pay!

Authors’ Notes: Updated slowly, originally intended to be a oneshot but shall be continued because the PwP had too much miniscule plot.

thoughts
.+++. <-Time/scene skip

*****

“Mr. Briefs…” A low voice rumbled as a wooden rod slapped in Gohan’s palm. “I appreciate that you are attending my lecture, but perhaps it would be best if you and your friend carried on your conversation outside.”

A lavender-haired man glanced up from his spot in the lecture hall and glared at Gohan.

“Now would be a prompt time. I have another hundred other students to teach, and I’m certain they would appreciate that I continue on. Unlike some people they wouldn’t want their hard-earned money to go to waste.” Gohan continued as he brought the pointing stick down on his hand again.

Curses escaped the heir of the Capsule Corporation (as well as the Saiyajin throne, but nobody except the student and professor knew that) as he gathered his stuff and stormed out of the classroom with the friend he was talking to.

A few hours later brought a quick rapping on his door. Gohan didn’t need to ask who it was, and he sighed before pushing up his glasses. “Come in Trunks.”

“Oh, so you use my first name now huh?” The young man said as he glared at his professor. “You just had to announce my last name in class, didn’t you? Now this is going to be the talk of the school for ages! ‘The young Capsule Corporation heir kicked out of class for talking! Is it okay to trust the multi-billion-zeni corporation with somebody so irresponsible?’”

“Well using your first name implies a closer relationship, so I couldn’t use that. What did you expect me to say, young man with the pink-purple hair? I don’t think you would have appreciated that Trunks.” Gohan said as he walked over and closed the door. It locked automatically with a click.

“I-It’s not pink!” Trunks protested with an even more heated glare. “And for all you know I could have been asking for help!”

Gohan sighed and ran a hand through his spiky black hair. “Man, last night’s party was awesome, wasn’t it? When’s the next one– Need I continue? You forget that I, too, am part Saiyajin and have a stronger sense of hearing.”

“Really Gohan? Is that all you come up with? That’s a clichéd line on a Monday!”

“How about: You see that dude in the fron–” The smouldering look in Trunks’ blue eyes made Gohan stop. “Don’t worry Trunks, I’m not going to spill your secret to anybody. Besides, you’re the one who brought this on yourself. Maybe if you bothered to take notes on what I was saying instead of gossiping and bragging to your friends, you wouldn’t be here, now would you?”

“Seriously! What’s it to you? I talked in class and I didn’t pay attention, if I fail, it’s my problem.”

“I swear, your selfishness is worse than both of your parents! Do you not understand that those around you are distracted by your blatantly sexual comments and your little gossip-buddy also isn’t paying attention because you’re talking to them? The world doesn’t revolve around you, however important you are!”

Trunks gave him a smirk and sat on Gohan’s desk. “Oh really? I think I recall a time where everybody thought you dead and your little brother and I were the last hope of the world, no the universe.”

Gohan knew the look Trunks was giving him, it was that I’m better than thou look that often made its appearance on Vegeta’s face. Instead of picking up the bait, Gohan stood at his door with his arms crossed. “I never remember your future self – the last fighter of Earth – being this self-pompous. A post-apocalyptic world does you good.”

“Well word has it that you prevented that, prof, and now you’re stuck with me. Too bad huh?” Trunks said as he crossed his legs, looking completely relaxed on Gohan’s desk.

Gohan pushed up his sliding glasses again. “Now, is there anything else you wish to address Trunks? I do have to mark your assignment today.”

The prince smirked as he hopped off of Gohan’s desk and sauntered over to the black-haired Demi, a sway in his step. Once he reached his professor who had the door open, Trunks slammed a hand on the door and closed it as it clicked once again. His other hand was on his hip. “You know, you have quite the lip yourself. How do I know you won’t blackmail me into behaving with the new information you’ve gathered on me hmm?” The hand that had settled on the cocked hip moved to twirl itself in Gohan’s black tie, crinkling the ironed fabric in his grasp. “But, then again, I think I might have a hefty pile of dirt on you, Gohan.”

Gohan glanced down at his brother’s best friend as neutral as he could with warm breath caressing his neck. “What use would blackmail have for me?”

“I don’t know.” Trunks glanced up into Gohan’s eyes before turning back to the exposed neck. “Maybe to get me to shut up and pay attention in your class? Or perhaps…” Gohan couldn’t suppress the shiver as Trunks ran his tongue over his neck. “To get something you want.”

The Son could feel lips smirking against his skin. Why did they have to smell the same? “Trunks!” He protested and his hands lifted to push the body away, but stopped once the skin of his neck was clamped between Trunks’ teeth. Gohan bit his lip to stop any further reactions.

A dark chuckle escaped Trunks’ chest. “What is that you want hmm? Do you want me to be well-behaved, polite, cautious, and obedient?” Teeth bit down to draw blood and a gasp from Gohan. “Just like my future self?”

An even louder gasp was quickly muffled and changed into a deep-set scowl with a dark glare.

The lavender-haired prince smirked. “Oh, don’t go denying it. I notice your expression when you talk about him, and I can see how you look at me, only to frown once I act out of character of your fantasy.” Trunks pulled Gohan closer with his tie and he leaned up to whisper in his best friend’s brother’s ear. “How about we play a little game of pretend hmm? I’ll be the polite person you always wanted… It’s not as if his body is any different then mine anyway.”

Gohan stood up straight with shock in his black eyes and he shoved Trunks away. The other man, however, continued to hold onto the tie bound to Gohan’s neck, and with little effort he had pulled the other man on top of him and towards the immaculately clean desk. No papers, pens or electronics flew around at their rough landing since there were none to begin with.

Trunks took his opportunity and pulled Gohan down with the tie for a rough kiss. Using his free hand, Trunks tangled it into Gohan’s hair, keeping him there with push and pull. When Gohan’s lips slowly started to respond, Trunks whispered. “Now, now… I think we’ve got it backwards. If we’re going to play pretend, I’d be older than you, would I not?” The lavender-haired man pulled away from the kiss, teasing the other’s lips with his tongue.

Gohan glared down at Trunks half-heartedly. On one hand, he wanted to kick Trunks out of his office, yet on the other…

Trunks flipped them around so that he was on top of Gohan, and still he held the tie.

“I’ll be your Trunks…” The words were a bare whisper and opened the door to fantasy.

Kami they smelled the same…

“So,” Trunks’ lips were caressing the shell of his ear, “what do you say, Gohan?”

And they were around the same age… Gohan shuddered and arced his body against Trunks in silent agreement.

“Gohan…” Trunks said, and the tone of his voice did wonders on Gohan. It was calm, it was composed… so unlike Trunks yet so like Him. “Are you sure about this?”

Although Gohan knew that Trunks was mocking him, it was so much easier, so much more enjoyable to just fall into the land of fantasy that was being carved out for him. Meekly, Gohan nodded.

“Okay… I just don’t want to hurt you.” Trunks said as he caressed Gohan’s cheek before leaning in for a gentle kiss.

Gohan didn’t want to close his eyes, he didn’t want to blink. Here he was, in a living dream, and Gohan would do anything to continue. The man above him was not the bratty best friend of his younger brother, but the man that Gohan idolized as a child, the one who saved his father and his friends. It was the second man whom he had seen as Super Saiyajin. There was no cocky smirk, just a soft, loving expression, and Gohan couldn’t get enough of it.

“Trunks…” Gohan whispered against the lips and allowed Trunks’ tongue in. He let the hand that wasn’t holding his tie glide down his body. He permitted the soft caresses that Trunks’ fingers were doing against his clothed skin. He accepted the unbuttoning of his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful…”

Gohan was already too far gone in his illusion to read the truth behind those words. His body arced to Trunks’ touch. It wasn’t hard to lose himself in the fantasy, since Trunks looked the same, felt the same (callused, lean, and strong fingers, firm abs, built body….) sounded the same, and even smelled the same.

Trunks lips moved from Gohan’s and they trailed down the body with butterfly kisses. His hand caressed Gohan’s ass, pulling hips closer together. Gohan bit his bottom lip, not too far gone to realize where they were.

Lips moved back up to kiss the abused lip. “You need to take care of your body Gohan… I won’t be able to admire its full glory otherwise.” Trunks said softly and Gohan’s tie twisted and twirled around his hand before moving that hand to cup his cheek and caress the bitten, bruising, bottom lip. “Hmm…” Trunks glanced around before looking at the fabric in his hand and loosened the tie. “Bite on this.” He said and placed the fabric in Gohan’s mouth.

Trunks… Trunks didn’t want him to ruin his body, he didn’t want Gohan to tarnish what he thought was beautiful. So, Gohan opened his mouth as he allowed the collar of his tie into it. There, both of Trunks’ hands were free and they roamed his body. Soon his shirt was completely removed but it was kindly placed over a chair so that it would not wrinkle. The fingers caressed Gohan’s every crevice, every scar, every bump. At first, the movements were slow, but they began to speed up. With each gasp, each moan, Gohan bit down into the cloth of his tie and tried to silence them. Although his office was a bit out of the way, it was not isolated. Other professors of the University could be just beyond the walls.

“Your body is so sensitive…”

Trunks continued to revel in his body, and that was just fine with Gohan. It was something that the Son desired. If Trunks wanted his body, it was fine, because Gohan was sure that he wanted Trunks even more so. If only he could voice his opinions… his feelings… but they were not in the privacy of a bedroom.

The buckle of Gohan’s pants was removed, but before Trunks could continue, Gohan stopped him as he let his hands wander over Trunks’ body. He wanted to see the light tan skin uninterrupted by clothes, he wanted to feel it. Trunks, Trunks, and Trunks. It was all Gohan could think about and he wanted to know his saviour.

Trunks smiled as he pulled out his tucked in dress-shirt, letting Gohan unbutton it from the bottom while the lavender-haired heir started at the top after loosening his own tie. Their hands met as they reached for the last button, but Trunks allowed Gohan the pleasure of removing it. Both shirt and tie joined Gohan’s shirt neatly on the chair.

Gohan’s eyes wandered over the built torso and coiled muscles. Then, his hands wandered the path that his eyes took, and Gohan wanted to taste the skin below his fingertips, the muscles twitching at his touch, yet he could not. Sounds were something they had to be wary of, and Gohan cursed it.

Trunks’ hands moved to hold Gohan’s and brought both pairs down to the remaining belt buckle holding the prince’s pants up. Then Trunks moved his own hands to continue the removal of Gohan’s pants that had been interrupted earlier. He was slow, patient, and ensured that the clothes did not look messy. They still have things to do, places to be after all of this.

And once they were both fully undressed did Gohan let a shudder pass through him. Kami… Trunks…

“Gohan…” The prince’s voice was filled with the same emotion he held – lust.

A hand traced along the half-hardened length, and Gohan let another shiver pass through him. How long? How long has he wanted that hand doing that? How long has he imagined? Waited? Yet it all seemed worth it in the end and his hips tilted towards the teasing hand. He wanted more. As he moaned, he remembered to keep quiet and bit down on his tie. Yet, he still needed to show Trunks his desire, his pleasure. His hands moved to capture the lavender-haired prince’s face and their heated gazes met. Gohan’s smouldering black met with fiery blue and they held firm as Trunks resumed his attentions to Gohan’s member, stroking it to full attention.

Gohan wanted to watch Trunks climb that ladder of passion, witness Trunks at that purest, highest moment, and observe Trunks as he rode down into that aftermath. Everything about his saviour – his friend from the future – was alluring, like a drug and he couldn’t get enough of him.

Trunks’ hands wandered to knead at his ass. “Mmm…” He said before breaking their blazing gaze and caressed the shell of Gohan’s ear with his lips. “You’re so tense Gohan… do you want me to remedy that?” His voice was seductive and impassioned, yet steady and calm.

Gohan shuddered and nodded. He needed this, wanted this. For Trunks to take him, to make him submit and so much more.

“Not just yet Gohan, turn around please. I’ll ease those muscles, loosen you up.”

And, without taking a second to think about it, Gohan turned. Then, Trunks’ lean, talented fingers found the back of his neck and moved. They eased the tension, the knots, the locks. They moved lower, pushing deeper, and yet, Gohan could feel the royal, hardened length against him, moving with Trunks’ body as he massaged Gohan’s mid-back, and the black-haired Demi would be lying if he wasn’t turned on by it. His groans, his sighs, his moans were all held in, blocked as he bit down on the fabric of his tie.

Once Trunks got to the gluteal muscles, Gohan’s hips pressed back.

“I know, I know.” Trunks said soothingly into his ear. “But we need you to loosen up, to be prepared. I don’t want to hurt you Gohan.”

Yet, having Trunks’ fingers so near his entrance was having quite the opposite effect. Anticipation filled him and he shuddered. The prince chuckled lightly and a hand wandered to stroke Gohan’s erection slowly and released some of the pressure. A pair of lips kissed their way down from his ear before the hand still massaging was lifted away. Trunks still stroked him, slowly, sensually, but only enough to distract him. Then, a wet finger found his pucker and circled it, causing more shivers of pleasure to race down Gohan’s body. The finger entered, stretching, exploring. It didn’t quite feel uncomfortable yet neither comfortable, just unusual. The other hand, though, distracted him from that as it continued its leisurely pace along his length. Next the second finger entered and it tipped the balance, now entering discomfort – but not a bad one. Here, Trunks’ tongue distracted Gohan as it slid up his spine. However, with a slight push, the Son saw stars.

Almost, almost, did he forget to clamp down on the poor fabric, but at the last second, just before the sounds of pleasure escaped his throat, his teeth clenched, his lips attempting to close. Instinctively, Gohan’s lower body pushed back, craving the sensational overload, damned or not if it’d released another moan. He didn’t even notice the missing hand around his member, but all that he wanted now was that pleasure once again.

“Patience Gohan, it gets better, I’ll give you more.” Trunks said as his composure began to slip.

Gohan shuddered at the mere thought of his saviour’s control all but gone.

Trunks’ fingers delved deeper, stretched further, wandered about and allowed the unused muscles to awaken, to heat up, to prevent tearing, yet he ignored – avoided – that bundle of nerves. Even with the third finger, stretching this way and that. Yet, it still left Gohan hot, it left him needy. He had tasted that forbidden fruit, the one that was overripe and left on the tree for too long. It left an aftertaste, a craving, and Gohan wanted more.

His whine was muffled through the fabric as the fingers left him and it reminded him that they had to be silent.

“You can turn around.” Trunks’ voice was husky, low, hot with unbridled lust, and as Gohan turned he was greeted with a matching expression. Trunks had lost all control, all restraint, and it went straight for the dark-haired Demi’s cock.

Fuck he’s hot.

Then the prince smirked, enjoying what he saw before he spread Gohan’s legs, pulling them to his shoulders as he positioned himself between his thighs. “Just bear with it.”

Those words made Gohan dizzy with lust. They were twisted with control and desire, some odd, magical mixture in between. He then bit down on the collar of his tie and his eyes slit in mock pleasure and pain as the other entered him. Yet, yet Gohan still watched, he watched the other’s expression as he was slowly filled, watched as restraint pulled against instinctual lust.

How Gohan wanted to break that harness.

Their eyes met again – smouldering coal and blue fire meeting at the deepest pits of a flame.

A moment stood still before the silent conversation finished.

Go.

The first thrusts were slow, experimental and acclimatization, and once Gohan pushed back, things solidified. Speed picked up, strength increased, experiments turned into results and Gohan was fighting the screams of pleasure. Again, again and again was his sweet spot hit, the nerves screaming their own silent forms of pleasure. Gohan began to feel loose threads in his mouth but he never took note of it. He just bit down and swallowed the impassioned sounds, still keeping watch on his beloved’s face, watching as rapture took control, watching as he held sounds back, watching as his climax neared.

A hand took his solid length and moved it in tune with their thrusts. It caused Gohan to bite down harder, loosing more strands of fabric, but it wasn’t as if he noticed any of that at all.

“Nnn!” The muffled sound escaped his lavender-haired hero.

Further, further, just a bit more!

Trunks slammed their hips and lips together as they screamed and exploded together.

Then the prince slumped, heaving. A moment passed before a stray lock of hair was brushed from Gohan’s face. “Gohan… I…” The voice was pure, it was light, and as Gohan met the blue eyes he was greeted with softness that reminded him of the sky. But then, a plug, a clog, and Trunks froze, exiting Gohan.

And Gohan’s body iced over as well as his illusion faded. The black depths of his eyes became hard obsidian and his fist met Trunks’ cheek.

Gohan thought he saw pain in Trunks’ face, but it flashed so quickly that it, too, was probably an illusion. For the lips curled into that signature royal smirk.

The words didn’t even have to be spoken, they both knew what the other was thinking.

Trunks grabbed his own clothes but had enough decency (or perhaps it was pride) to toss Gohan his. There was no care for neatness. The Son grabbed them quickly, his honed reactions responding immediately to the flying clothes and put them on.

Without another word, Trunks left, the door locking behind him with a click.

And Gohan, all he could do was glare at the door that his student left from.

Hefty fucking pile indeed.

Author’s Notes : This story takes place in the year 794 of the Dragon Ball Universe.

Gohan is 38
Goten is 27
Trunks is 29
Bra is 17
Pan is 18
Marron is 23
Tapion is 40
Android 17 is 40

*****

“Don’t leave,” Gohan mumbled when he felt the bed shift. He yawned as his eyes fluttered open. Through blurry eyes, he found Tapion’s hand and reached for it.

“I promised you,” Tapion said softly as he reached for his pants, refusing to look over his shoulder and towards Gohan. He knew he would not see Trunks again today but he did not want to linger and end up not wanting to leave.

Gohan instead of grasping for Tapion’s hand grabbed a fist full of the sheet. “I don’t care anymore if you bring him home or not,” his voice was empty, hopeless. “Ten years without either of you,” a tear slid down his cheek.

The emptiness in Gohan’s voice twisted Tapion’s insides. “I’m close Gohan,” he said regretfully. Though he came to share this news with Gohan, he really did not want to. He did not want to get his lovers hopes up.

“Close?” Gohan letting go of the sheet, sat up.

“I stumbled onto him by accident in one of my trips to the future. On a whim and a prayer, I came back to this time-period. Sure enough, he is here and on the same path.” Finally, he looked over his shoulder and at Gohan. His smile was full of sorrow.

“If he is alive why hasn’t he come home?” Gohan wore his expressions on his sleeve. There was no hiding just how hurt and dumbfounded he was at this particular moment. “I don’t understand,” he growled out of frustration.

Tapion wanting to look anywhere but at Gohan looked up at the ceiling- so much for having a good time with repercussions. “I learned a lot by coming back to this point in time,” he sighed. “And, none of it good. He doesn’t remember and honestly I think it is too late.”

“If you’ve found him them why haven’t you brought him home? We can make him remember!” Gohan completely missed the part about it being too late. He put his hand on Tapion’s shoulder. “You promised me- everyone-”

“It’s too late Gohan,” Tapion said again. He did not know when his mind had changed or why it had changed but it had. “I want to go back further in time. But, I don’t know what damage it will do.”

“Too late? Damage?” If Gohan had learned anything over the years it was that just about anything could be undone, redone, fixed, etc. He sighed heavily, not understanding at all why Tapion was speaking in riddles.

“He’s got a girl,” Tapion said simply. “What if there are kids involved? Do we completely erase them from all time lines for our selfishness? Do we destroy the current balance of happiness involving all parties for our selfishness? Everyone has made peace but us.” The more he spoke, the more he thought. He was realizing just how little thought he had put into this.

Gohan looked away. He wanted to be selfish and say ‘he was ours first’ but he knew what it was like to be a family man. He sighed heavily. “Just stay Tapion. We can think on this together. The burden is too much for one person to shoulder.”

“No matter the choice we make it won’t be easy,” Tapion dropped the pants back onto the floor and scooted back into bed. He wondered only briefly, why Gohan had not asked where Trunks was at before snuggling up to Gohan.

—-

Pan sat a bag of groceries on the counter. She let out a relieved sigh; it had been a very heavy bag. Who knew three women could eat so much. Then again, they all had father’s who were monsters when it came to eating, one would think that they could almost eat the table if given the chance. She hummed softly and started to put things away.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Bra snickered as she watched Pan practically dance around the kitchen while she put the groceries away. She was not use to her friend being so light on her feet, give her a wrench and shove her under a car and that was her friend.

Pan spun around and stuck her tongue out. “Well hello too you to silly,” she giggled. “Tapion’s back and you know what that means.” She grabbed the loaf of bread and stuffed it into the breadbox. She slapped her hands together in a ‘I’m done’ fashion.

“Your dad gets laid? And, at least one person gets to be happy in a semi normal relationship…” Bra scoffed and rolled her eyes. She really could care less about Tapion and his return. If Tapion had brought Trunks with him then she would care. Nevertheless, until then it was a no go.

“I think my dad deserves to be happy for a change,” Pan grinned and hopped up onto the counter to have a sit.

“What do you mean by that? My dad and me don’t deserve to be happy?” Bra could not help the tears that trickled down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand and sniffled. “You’re so mean Pan!”

“Oh come on he’s got no one to make him happy anymore,” Pan looked out the window and sighed. “All he’s got is me and well I am his daughter and most certainly not relationship material. You and your dad at least have someone.”

“Who do I have?” Bra asked through gritted teeth. “Have you forgotten why I am here in the first place?” She clenched her fists, it taking everything in her no to slap the total shit out of Pan. Talk about opening up a shallow, unhealed wound.

Pan hopped down from the counter and walked behind Bra. “You have me,” she whispered, her lips just inches from the others ear. She pushed her friend against the counter and nuzzled her face into her neck.

“We shouldn’t,” Bra struggled for a moment. Her resolve just about gone was the wind was knocked from her, and her back met with the cold counter. Heaven help us, they were in the kitchen and it would take a prayer and half to not be caught by having Marron walk in on them or anyone else for that matter.

—-

“Vegeta, dear, what is bothering you?” Bulma asked as she tinkered with one of her more recent gadgets. She was trying to not let it be known that his pacing back and forth was wearing out not only the floor but also her nerves.

Vegeta stopped in his tracks and glared at Buma. He felt almost guilty because her face held concern and his held nothing but hatred. Things had just about been strained to the point of falling apart since the loss of their son. The only thing that kept him with this woman was their daughter. If not for her, he would have been gone a long time ago. Sure, he cared, but not like that.

Bulma sighed and dropped the tool she was currently using and walked over to him. “I might not have brute strength you dumb ass but I’ve got brains,” she grumbled as she put her hands on her hips. All sighs of loving concern gone. She really hated when Vegeta got like this with her.

“Then use that brain of yours woman on that stupid toy and leave me the fuck alone,” Vegeta growled as he stormed off. There were currently only two things they shared; a home, and a daughter. If it were not for Bra, he would not give her the time of day. He would rather fuck a tree than fuck her. Truth be told it was fear. He did not want to get attached because then you felt loss; feeling that made you weak.

Bulma fought back the tears as she was left standing there alone.

Author’s Notes : This story takes place in the year 794 of the Dragon Ball Universe.

Gohan is 38
Goten is 27
Trunks is 29
Bra is 17
Pan is 18
Marron is 23
Tapion is 40
Android 17 is 40

*****

Trunks’ pushed the button on the bottom of his helmet. In seconds, it was round, and no bigger than a bouncy ball. He placed it into his pocket. He ran his fingers through his damp hair before stretching the length of himself. He was about to climb out of the racecar when he noticed another male approaching.

As if it was second nature, he cupped his face with his hands. The pain was not due to being overly heated or overly tired. Something just gnawed at the back of his mind; something that told him he was suppose to know this person but it hurt to remember.

“Very impressive.” Tapion with a soft smile extended his hand, “My names Tapion.” He did not let it be known that he was relieved to see his good friend in such good shape. He had not been sure how far into the past he had to travel to mend the damage but it was now apparent that his best guess was a good one.

“Thank you,” Trunks mumbled. Not to give away the previous moment of experienced pain he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He wiped his hands on his pants before shaking the other male’s hands, “Name’s Trunks. So what brings you here?”

“Thought I might be able to talk you into dinner,” Tapion was not in a hurry to give anything up to quickly. He first wanted to know just how much Trunks remembered. “Strictly business,” he added not wanting to come off as too chummy.

“I’m sorry but I’m not interested,” Trunks said as he climbed out of the car. He raised a hand and waved at an approaching female. “Perhaps another time and when my sponsor’s representatives can be present. Fairness and all.”

Tapion glanced over at the female; she clearly was not one of the racers. He could already believe she would be track side with her little, tight, black cocktail dress. If he had not of known better he would have swore that the girl was a related to Goku in one way or another, she had that same goofy grin and jet black hair. “Another time then,” he said softly.

Trunks’ slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek. “Let’s go so I can get cleaned up and we can make it to the restaurant on time before they cancel our reservations.” With that, they turned and headed towards the directions from which she had come.

She glanced over her shoulder and looked at Tapion before whispering something to Trunks.

Tapion ran his fingers through his hair. Perhaps he had not gone back far enough after all. It was clear by the woman Trunks was dating though that somewhere in Trunks he remembered Gohan. He stood there for a moment longer debating whether he should get the people Trunks’ knew involved. He really did not want to bombard him with everything all at once, especially since it was now apparent that his close friend lived a separate life, a normal life.

—-

“Hey there stranger, been a while!” Pan grinned putting a hand on Tapion’s shoulder. Her other hand was occupied holding a tray. She could barely remember the last time she had seen him. It was at that point in time victory had been swallowed by sorrow, the loose of Trunks. The next few years that followed were pretty much a blur.

It took Tapion a moment to recognize Pan, who had grown into quite the little lady. “Ten years,” he said trying not to get lost amongst his travels. “How’s everyone doing?” He asked although he already knew through best guess due to his travels.

“Doing the only thing we can do, living,” Pan, trying to remain lighthearted, giggled. “Though Bra’s a bit unsettled at the moment.” She sighed as she thought back to the other night. “She could swear that her brother was close by.”

Tapion nodded his head. He knew that nothing would ever come of that feeling; it was why he was here. He had to set things in motion; to change what he knew was going to happen. “Just be there for her. It is all any of you can do for him at this moment.”

Pan nodded her head. “Do me a favor and stop by and see my dad. He misses the good old days, sometimes too much,” she winked. She was old enough to have pieced things together via the photographs in picture books.

“We were friends, nothing more,” Tapion said with a sigh not willing to admit to the young one about how things use to be. “I’ll drop by. It has been a while since I had a good sparring partner,” he said not realizing just how twisted it might sound to pan.

“Thanks,” Pan grinned. She did not care if he would admit to it or not, she thought herself smarter than them at times. It was a teen thing. “I better get back to work or I’ll never make enough in tips to pay the light bill.”

“Keep the change,” Tapion said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Pan returned to the fray.

—-

It had been a tossup between Gohan and Vegeta when it came to telling someone about Trunks. Gohan won in the end because now that Pan knew Tapion was ‘around’ he had little choice but to visit. He sighed as he half wondered what he would say to him and where the conversation would lead.

Gohan not expecting any visitors glanced at the clock. Being early in the day still, he figured that it might be one of his students. He glanced down at the stack of half graded test papers. To say the least, life was dull compared to previous years. He put on his best smile, most sincere smile as he opened the door. “Tap-ion,” he mouthed in shock.

This decision had been a lot easier to make before seeing Gohan. What kind of man was he for leaving his partner in a time of need? Sure, he could counter with he had done it all for the sack of finding the person they had both lost. “Well are you going to let me in?” He asked even though he knew that he did not a right to ask such a thing of his’ friend’.

Gohan could sense the unease in Tapion, and he could sense it in himself. He wanted to be angry but he did not have it in him. He knew that it was not going to do either of them a bit of good by spiting vicious words at one another. He drew in a deep breath as he tangled his fingers into the collar of the other mans shirt, half wondering when he had made the choice to dress so proper.

Tapion truly wanted to reciprocate the feelings however, at the same time he did not want to be slapped. He looked past Gohan and saw the home was empty. He took a couple steps forward forcing the other male inside, this time not thinking of the consequences.

“To hell with it all,” Gohan whispered breathlessly as if he labored for hours already. He pulled Tapion towards him and kissed him. He fingers tangling in silken locks. Suddenly it was as if they had never spent a moment apart.

Something stirred within Tapion and all resolve dissolved against Gohan’s lips. He was now most certain that his lover of years ago held no animosity towards him. He kissed him fiercely as his hands moved to make quick work of the schoolteacher’s clothes.

Author’s Notes : This story takes place in the year 794 of the Dragon Ball Universe.

Gohan is 38
Goten is 27
Trunks is 29
Bra is 17
Pan is 18
Marron is 23
Tapion is 40
Android 17 is 40

*****

“With the disappearance of Trunks, Capsule Corporation’s CEO, his sister Bra will be taking over,” the newswoman’s voice was heard on the TV set in the living room. Within moments of it being said, Vegeta cut the TV off, and crushed the remote. The rest of the broadcast could not be heard.

“Fuck woman how the fuck could this happen?” Vegeta growled as his fist made contact with the wall. Every fighter, close and not so close, had tried his or her upmost best to restore the Prince’s son to life but the dragon would have nothing of it.

Bulma caught her husband’s hand before it made contact with the wall again. “I’m just as lost as you but that is no reason to go off half cocked!” Her eyes narrowed as she dropped his hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “Perhaps there is a clue in what the dragon said…”

“We never had to have fucking bodies before to bring back someone. We brought back all those fucking useless humans!” Vegeta caught himself before he spat on the living room furnishings. He looked at his wife once before quickly looking away. Hurt and lost, he stormed from the room; these were not emotions he was use to feeling, let alone being able to understand them.

“Vegeta,” Bulma called out to him. Shakily she forced herself to run after him.

–Ten Years Later–

Despite the hollow filling that filled several hearts since that time, life had moved on. Peace had settled in the world that was now. Amazingly, no harm threatened the planet.

A few young, a few old had previously packed themselves into the sardine can known as ‘Led Lights’, a nightclub. Time had softened them even if they frequently trained. Play before worked seemed to be their motto, much like their fallen friend in arms.

Pan, still intoxicated by the alcohol, giggled without cause. She rolled from her stomach to her back and pointed up to the ceiling. “Marron?” she glanced over as she pointed upwards at the ceiling. She used her other arm to prop her head up. She pouted when she realized her girl friend was sound asleep. She stopped her fit of giggles as she stumbled out of bed. She staggered down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Living with you two is like,” Bra growled as she looked away from the TV and towards the kitchen. Fresh from a breakup and the last place she wanted was to go back home she was currently only living with the teenage lovebirds because she felt she had no place else to go.

“Some thanks we get for opening our home to you,” Pan rolled her eyes. “Drink you a couple and loosen up.” She grabbed a couple wine coolers from the fridge, it was not what she had intended to get until now, and staggered towards the sofa. She draped herself over the couch. “Here you go,” she giggled.

“Thanks,” Bra mumbled. She looked the wine cooler over; she did not intend to drink it. She sighed softly. She ran her finger over the mouth of the bottle and turned her attention once more to the TV.

“Something’s bothering you. I can tell,” Pan said as she kicked her legs in the air. She was teetering on the backing of the sofa. She was more concerned with her friend than her haphazard position or drink.

“My brother,” Bra replied when she got a look from her roommate from her silence that she had given her. “I don’t want to believe it. I don’t need more shit in my already fucked up life.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she yawned. Although she had not drank or danced much she was exhausted from the clubbing.

Pan was unsure how to comfort her friend. She stood up straight and put the bottle down on the table. More steady that previous she walked around to the front of the sofa. She was quickly sobering up due to Bra’s current mood. “What about your brother?”

“I think I saw him,” Bra whispered before standing up and pushing Pan aside. “You really should cloth yourself before your lover gets the wrong idea about us.” She did appreciate Pan’s concern but did not want her friend to get in trouble for it.

Pan clenched her fist and caught herself before she spat out something foul towards the other person. She hardly understood Bra before, and even less now since the loss of her brother. “Fine,” she finally said as she grabbed her bottle and stormed back to her room.

Marron who had been standing just inside the bedroom quickly, silently ran back to bed when she heard someone coming back down the hall. She pulled the sheet over her and clenched her eyes shut. She repeatedly told herself that what she had heard meant nothing even if she had, had her suspicions before now.

Author’s Notes: Just a little DBZ chick lit. “Present” timeline. This story is based on an idea suggested to me by the one, the only Lord Truhan — many, many thanks! It seems to be taking a different path than I originally envisioned, but I’m having fun with it so I’m gonna run with it :) Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 18

It felt like they had been kissing for hours and that was just fine with Trunks. He loved kissing and, besides, Gohan was good at it. Really good.

They had decided to take advantage of the tropical weather and take a midnight dip in the temperate waters of the South Pacific. Now the two stood on one of many sandbars in the shallow sea surrounding the beach, their naked legs intertwined under the water. With his arms wrapped around the taller demi’s neck, Trunks’s toes barely skimmed the sand beneath.

Out here, there was only the endless black ocean, the sound of moving water, and the moon shining down on it all, illuminating the crest of each miniature wave so that it sparkled. Trunks wasn’t sure whether it was the cool water lapping at his skin that gave him chills or the way Gohan’s tongue traced his upper lip.

“Mmm, why’d you stop?” he asked when the older man pulled away.

“You’re distracted.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Gohan couldn’t help but stare as, at length, a guilty smile graced the prince’s features. With his wet hair matted against his head, slicked back away from his face, he looked . . . different somehow. Older. Much less like the little boy Gohan had grown up with and more like the man he was becoming.

“I’m curious whether you’ve been playing hard to get all this time just to make me crazy,” the teen admitted. “I can’t help but wonder where all your righteous reservations are now.”

Gohan smiled meekly. “To be honest, Goten deserves the credit for my change of heart. He’s the one who finally made me realize what an ass I was being.”

“If that’s all it took, I could’ve told you weeks ago that you were being an ass.”

Gohan cringed, though he knew he deserved it. “No need for name-calling. I promised I’d make it up to you and I meant that.”

The prince’s eyes sparkled; challenging. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“Well,” Gohan nudged him playfully under the water with his hips. “Let’s just say I’m pretty sure that by the time the sun comes up tomorrow I can repay my debt to you in full with interest.”

“So you think you can buy me off with cheap sex?”

“Yes,” the other answered, matter-of-factly. “Yes, I do.”

Trunks raised an eyebrow, looking with extraordinary scrutiny upon the elder Son. Finally he smiled. “I guess you know me pretty well then.”

“You’re a nineteen-year-old boy. You’re not so hard to figure out.”

“Yeah, well, I just hope you can keep up with me, Old Man.”

“Oh,” this time Gohan laughed, “I don’t think it’s me who needs to worry.”

His dark eyes, though warm, were clouded with something that made the prince shiver. He swallowed, thinking of the last time he heard Gohan use that I-know-something-you-don’t-know tone. If memory served, he had ended up unconscious on the floor of the gravity room.

Before Trunks knew it, they were approaching the shore, and he tripped over himself as the sand sloped rapidly upwards toward the beach. When he faltered, Gohan caught him, his arms like steel and the rest of his body just as hard. This time when Gohan kissed him, Trunks could feel his blood rush; hear it in his ears. It warmed skin that was still cold from the water, and his body broke out in goose bumps all over.

But uncertainty overcame desire as they toppled onto the blanket and the teen stiffened, stopping the other in his tracks with a serious whisper.

“Gohan.”

He looked up at the dark-haired demi and Gohan pushed himself up on his arms, suddenly worried he was rushing the teen. It had become clear in retrospect that the last time they were together, Trunks was far from ready to move on and Gohan wondered if, in his eagerness to make amends, he had somehow missed the same signs again. Come to think of it, hadn’t the other mentioned something about taking things slower this time around?

But the younger boy had no objection to the situation he found himself in. He only wondered how, against all odds, they had gotten here. Despite his meaningful chat with Goten in space, the brothers’ apparent discussion on the topic, and Gohan’s minimal explanation regarding his change of heart, Trunks was still having trouble wrapping his mind around everything. During the last week he had convinced himself that he was utterly alone in his misery while the two Sons moved on, only too happy to leave him behind. But he was beginning to understand that it hadn’t been so simple for either of them.

And he just had to know, “Did you think of me at all? This week while you were gone?”

Gohan reached up to touch Trunks’s wet hair, dragging the lavender strands across his forehead. He wondered if he could tell Trunks, without sounding completely obsessive, how many times he’d thought about that hair in the last week – the way it fanned out on the prince’s pillow when he slept or the way it felt between his fingers. The way it framed those impossibly blue eyes.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he answered finally and his companion smiled.

“And what exactly did these thoughts entail?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Trunks rolled over so that it was Gohan who was pinned to the blanket. The moonlight made his pale skin look like alabaster and Trunks traced the perfectly molded lines of his chest, thinking the elder Son could’ve been carved right out of the stuff. He explored the same pathways with his tongue and salty drips of ocean water mixed with the taste of the other’s skin. The effect was intoxicating.

As he worked his way back to Gohan’s mouth, he guided the other demi’s hand downward until it cupped one flawlessly rounded cheek. He had been thinking about Gohan, too, and he wasn’t willing to wait any longer to make those fantasies a reality. Besides, the older demi didn’t have to tell Trunks what he was thinking. The way he looked at the prince just then told him everything he needed to know.

While Gohan’s hands wandered, Trunks set his mouth to work on the other’s neck, going rather automatically for that sensitive bit of skin just below his earlobe. Surprisingly or not, Gohan moaned softly at the contact, turning his head to allow for better access, and Trunks couldn’t help but smile against the skin.

He stifled his amusement quickly but not before the elder Son noticed.

“Something funny?” His voice was husky.

“Oh, it’s nothing but a little family resemblance is all.”

Gohan groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry I asked.” He had come to terms with the boys’ extensive history, but he didn’t particularly want to imagine his baby brother in the same position that he was in now. Eager to get the image out of his head before it could ruin the moment entirely, he slid out from under Trunks, leaving him face-down on the blanket. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

When the teenager stifled another giggle, Gohan slapped a palm over his mouth. “Don’t answer that,” he instructed, leaning down to whisper into his hair.

The playful mood changed swiftly as the older demi used his knee to spread Trunks’s legs. The boy rubbed against him, riding the muscular thigh that slipped further between his own. He had his eyes closed, the sounds he was making muffled by Gohan’s palm, and the elder Son couldn’t ignore the way it made his own groin ache. He had to admit that he loved Trunks like this; abdicating the control he so relished outside the bedroom.

He worked his way worshipfully down the other’s spine with his lips, blazing a fiery trail along the cool skin. When he let go of the teen, Trunks stretched out beneath him like a cat and Gohan paused to drag his tongue upwards along the small of his back. From the way the prince shuddered as he did so, it was clear that this was one of his more sensitive, if less obvious, erogenous zones. He paid particular attention to that place, teasing the shallow dimples at the base of his spine and admiring the younger Saiyan’s all-over tan.

The boy was like hard candy and he wanted nothing more than to taste him from the inside out.

Every inch of Trunks’s skin was tingling by the time Gohan’s tongue slipped into the crease between his legs and he whimpered at the contact, at once so gratifying and so frustratingly insufficient. He lifted himself higher off of the blanket, encouraging the warm, wet probing but squirmed all the same, unable to decide whether he wanted to escape or wanted more. The firstborn decided for him, strong hands wrapping around his ankles, forcing his legs apart as surely as they held him in place. Not an inch of skin was spared and, primed as he was, Trunks could feel every breath the other took against his body.

Gohan pressed as deeply as he could, frustrated as the younger boy with the shallow penetration. The way the other trembled at the tip of his tongue only made Gohan want to ravage him more and he feasted on the teen as a Saiyan would any meal: with utter abandon and an insatiable appetite.

Trunks gasped when a particularly violent tremor shook his body. Opening his eyes, Gohan stared up the boy’s spine where his shoulder blades lifted and fell with each breath. His right arm jerked as he milked the last drops of orgasm.

“Well, that was fast.”

“No worries,” Trunks breathed. “There’s tons more where that came from.”

The kid was positively shameless; though Gohan thought in this particular context it was one of his sexier qualities. He watched Trunks sit up on his knees, reach back and push now-slippery fingers inside himself. It was an erotic sight, watching the other prepare for him – especially when he closed his eyes and licked his lips like that – and Gohan’s appreciation for the display was evident.

He grabbed the teen’s hips, digging demanding fingers into the flesh. Something about Trunks’s willing submissiveness spoke to every instinct that told him to dominate; every cell inside him that was still untamed primate and he was driven by a force he didn’t entirely understand and very rarely acknowledged. He always had to be so careful with Videl, even during their most passionate encounters, and there was an undeniable sense of freedom in the realization that the same concerns were non-existent with Trunks.

The royal demi could feel the hardness of the other’s erection at his back. He grasped it with one hand, guiding Gohan between his legs. The slick substance that coated him made it easy for the older man to slip inside. He didn’t, though; only moving up and down along that inviting trail, prolonging the moment.

Wanting to hear the other ask him for it.

Trunks arched so that he could reach Gohan’s ear, whispering one quiet command – two whole syllables – punctuating the sentence with his tongue and dropping onto all fours in case the message wasn’t entirely clear.

He forced himself relax as much as possible, silently talking himself through it as the elder Son breached the entrance. It wasn’t exactly his fledgling experience, but Gohan was bigger than his little brother and Trunks hadn’t known before their first time together how much difference a little surface area could make.

Plus, his partner didn’t seem quite so patient this time around.

The teen gritted his teeth at the burning sensation and it seemed an eternity before he felt the other’s hips connect with his own.

Gohan had all the enthusiasm of a boy scout tempered by the precision of a perfectionist and it wasn’t long before his punishing pace had Trunks feeling dizzy, barely aware enough of his own pathetic moans to have the sense to muffle them with a fistful of goose down. Something about the curve, the thickness, the rock solid hardness of the other’s cock hit a spot inside him never before explored and at this rate it wouldn’t be long before he was up two-zero on his partner.

Gohan would’ve thought he was hurting the younger boy except for the way Trunks began pushing back against him, arms stretched out on the blanket, hands gripping the comforter tightly. The drops of ocean water on his skin had been replaced by beads of concentration and his body shone enticingly in the moonlight. He ran one hand up the royal demi’s back, entangling it in his hair to pull him up so they knelt facing the palm trees. The angle increased the intensity of everything Trunks was feeling and he fought to maintain control, clenching his jaw around one tightly balled fist to keep quiet.

Gohan realized that years of secrecy would have conditioned him to be silent, but there was no need for restraint in this deserted place. And, besides, something irrational inside him wanted Trunks to know that he wasn’t in Goten’s bed anymore.

He took the teenager’s hand from his mouth and held it behind his back, twisting only enough to let Trunks know that struggle would be pointless. With his other arm around the royal demi’s waist, there was nowhere for Trunks to go and the relentless pounding wrested ever more urgent cries from his throat.

When he finally uttered those magic words, he made Gohan’s name sound like a plea for release; one the dark-haired demi could not refuse. He traced the prince’s jaw with his fingers, turning Trunks to face him. An endearing blush covered the younger one’s cheeks and he reached for Gohan’s mouth with his own despite the unnatural angle.

Losing himself to carnal impulse, the elder Son attacked his lips until he tasted blood on his tongue, felt it trickle between their chins, and heard the prince’s muffled cry as once again hot liquid spilled down his shaft, decorating his thighs. Gohan withdrew, his own orgasm dripping from Trunks’s body and over his knuckles.

The teen’s legs were trembling by the time they collapsed onto the blanket together, Trunks with slightly less grace than Gohan.

“That was uh—. Amazing,” his voice was shaky.

Gohan touched his lips to Trunks’s forehead, kissing the feverish skin there and barely registering the compliment. Not very long ago he’d been sure they’d never be together again and he was already wondering what he would’ve done if that was the case. Somewhere along the line being around the prince had become an addiction and like a junkie craving a fix, moderation wasn’t an option.

Trunks rolled onto his back, as the other licked his way along the chiseled contours of his abdomen. He whimpered when Gohan bypassed the neglected shaft, going instead for his inner thighs, hooking one leg over his shoulder. He suckled the sensitive skin there, collecting drops of climax where they had rained down on the boy’s legs.

Trunks swooned when those lips finally wrapped around his cock. He was quickly getting used to vocalizing his pleasure and showered the other with passionate words of encouragement. Gohan’s mouth was so hot and the feeling spread through him like there was magma in his veins. He entangled his fingers in the other’s hair and couldn’t help but rock his hips as he buried the toes of one foot in the sand. “Gohan, mmm . . . . Don’t stop . . . .”

The younger demi didn’t have the same inhibitions the older one did and he gave himself over to the corporeal entirely, easily leaving everything else behind. Not seeing, not thinking, only feeling; and it was easy to see what made the prince so sensual. He needed this, Gohan realized. Adoration. Intimacy. Connection. It was his way of escaping himself and he needed it almost as much as he needed to breathe.

Gohan still had one leg draped over his shoulder when he pulled himself up the other’s torso and kissed his lips.

“You ready for the next installment?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I thought you’d never ask.”

***

Goten stood in front of a thin whitewashed door in a bright hallway. It was a Sunday morning at WCU and the dorms were just beginning to come to life. He could hear the sounds of female voices inside and all around. He listened to the steady din for a moment while he hesitated, then knocked three times on the door.

When it opened, the bright smile that greeted him quickly faded.

“Goten,” Tiffany observed with disappointment. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to apologize, Tiffany.” The demi-Saiyan pushed his bangs away from his face. “I feel really bad about the way everything happened between us.”

She crossed her arms over her bare stomach, visible beneath the short shirt she wore. Since it seemed that at least she wasn’t going to close the door in his face, Goten continued.

“I’ve been going through a lot of stuff this semester. But I never should have gotten you involved and I’m sorry.”

“Goten?”

He looked to his right where Kim had just exited the community kitchen that was next door to their dorm room. She was dressed in jeans and a WCU sweatshirt, eating a bagel. She wiped some cream cheese from her bottom lip with the back of her hand and, suddenly self-conscious, tossed the rest of the bagel into the trash can by the door.

“Ah!” Goten gasped, holding his hand out. “If you weren’t going to eat that, I—.”

“Is food all you ever think about?” Tiffany cried. “I believe you were in the middle of apologizing to me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Goten agreed. “It’s just that I’m going to be in class again starting on Monday and I don’t want there to be any hard feelings between us. I think you’re a really great person and I hope we can still be friends.”

The blonde sighed then shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, sure. I guess so.”

“Great,” Goten smiled.

“So you’re . . . coming back?” Kim hoped her voice wouldn’t betray how happy she was to hear that.

“Uh huh. Oh,” Goten bit his bottom lip. “I could really use some help catching up on last week’s assignments. I mean, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah! I mean no. Of course I wouldn’t. Mind, that is.” Kim closed her eyes for a moment, praying that her face didn’t look as warm as it felt.

“Thanks.”

Tiffany leaned against the door frame twisting a lock of golden hair between her fingers. “Why don’t you just ask your smarty pants best friend to help you?”

“Tiff,” Kim shot her a warning glare, knowing that Trunks must be a sore subject for Goten. “He doesn’t go to school here anymore, remember?”

“Oh, right.” The blonde sounded bored. “I forgot. Not all of us stalk the kid twenty-four seven.”

“I don’t stalk him!” Kim insisted defensively. “We really did have plans on Friday night.”

The Capsule heir had never shown up to meet her for drinks and, to her great embarrassment, Kim ended up walking out of the restaurant bar alone after waiting for over an hour. Most of her friends didn’t believe her in the first place when she’d turned down plans with them to meet up with Trunks and she felt like an idiot when she showed up at the dorms alone, confirming their suspicions.

Goten’s already big brown eyes widened. “No way. You were the dinner date?” He couldn’t help but laugh, sure that his brother would be exceptionally happy to hear that.

“What’s so funny?” Kim demanded.

“Sorry.” His apology was sincere. “I’m sure Trunks felt really bad about not making it. But actually something important came up and we had to go out of town for a while.”

The coed blinked at him, confused. Why was Goten talking about Trunks so casually? Had they really been together on Friday night? Only the night before that, the lavender-haired boy told her that they couldn’t be in the same room without violence erupting.

“Ew!” Tiffany chimed in again, interrupting her thoughts. “So he really did stand you up – and to hang out with Goten, no less!” She shot a dismissive glance at their visitor. “You know, I wouldn’t sweat him so much if I were you, Kim. I’m really starting to think that kid is gay.”

The dark-haired girl put a palm to her forehead. “I don’t ‘sweat’ him, Tiff. I just—ugh. Nevermind.”

Before the conversation could continue Goten became aware of someone approaching from behind. He spun to face a tall, muscular guy wearing a football uniform. The new arrival ran a hand through his sandy blond hair and Goten involuntarily took a step back. The uniform smelled like it had been through more than a few games without a good wash.

“Hi, Tad!” Tiffany beamed as she pushed Goten aside to pounce on the other man. She rested her forearms on his chest and gazed up adoringly. “How was practice?”

“Awesome, babe. Coach made us run until we threw up.”

“That’s gross,” the blonde informed him, but forgot about the offensive comment quickly enough. She batted long eyelashes at him. “I hope you still have a little energy left.”

“Oh, you know it.” The new guy winked.

Tiffany crinkled her nose in Goten’s direction. “Not here,” she said. “Can we go to your dorm?”

“I don’t think so, babe. My roommates are all home.”

“Oh, you’re so silly, sweetie,” she pushed him off toward the nearby elevator. “That’s even better.”

Goten tilted his head as he watched them walk away.

“It was really sweet of you to stop by,” Kim said wryly as she joined him at the door to their room. “But, alas, as you can see, she’ll live to screw another day.”

The demi-Saiyan couldn’t help the snort that escaped as he tried not to laugh. But in his head, he chastised himself. No matter how quickly Tiffany had moved on, it still wasn’t right what he’d done to her. In retrospect, he realized he only kissed her that day in the library because it had become clear that Trunks wouldn’t let him go without a fight. A fight that Goten desperately wanted to avoid and, knowing how possessive the other boy was, betrayal seemed his only surefire way out. It was cowardly and unfair and he had seriously hurt two people he cared about in the process; one much more than the other.

“Hey, Goten?” Kim was unable to keep her curiosity at bay. “What happened between you and Trunks? It’s just that the last time I talked to him it sounded like your friendship was over for good, and now—.”

“I’ll tell you the whole story,” he promised with a smile. “But can we get lunch first? I’m starving.”

She agreed, disappearing into her room for a moment to retrieve her cafeteria card and key, then locked the door behind them. The two started toward the stairs, which would be faster than waiting for the elevators, but at the idea of Trunks and Goten spending any amount of time together, a startling thought occurred to Kim.

“Uh . . . Trunks didn’t say anything to you about . . . about me. Did he?”

The demi-Saiyan blinked. “Like what?”

“Oh, nothing,” Kim waved it off with a relieved sigh, thinking their mutual friend might have actually managed to keep his big mouth shut for once. She paused, though, as they entered the stairwell. “Oh, and Goten . . . .”

“Yes?”

“When you say you had to go out of town, it wasn’t by any chance to . . .” she rapidly spilled out the rest of the words, feeling silly, but needing to know the answer, “to visit your alien father’s home planet – or something like that – was it?”

He looked at her like she had two heads and started to laugh. “Of course not!”

“Oh, thank god!” The coed slapped two hands over her heart, then reached for the banister to follow Goten. He headed toward the bottom taking the stairs two by two.

“I dunno where you’d get an idea like that,” he noted as an afterthought, shouting over his shoulder. “Everybody knows that planet blew up decades ago.”

***

Gohan’s damp hair stuck to his forehead as he landed heavily on his back on the blanket and Trunks collapsed on top of him. The sun was already high above the horizon and the palm trees no longer offered any protection from its rays. He closed his eyes against the bright light and felt sweat trickle down his temple. He was sure Trunks could hear his heart pounding as he carelessly trailed a few fingers through messy hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so exhausted – or so thankful for Saiyan endurance. But the sun that beat down on them meant their passionate reunion was necessarily coming to an end.

“We’d better get back to West City,” he observed, still breathless, opening one eye to squint at the sky. “Trunks,” he squeezed the other’s shoulder. But when he received no response, he glanced down at the teen. His eyes were closed and his breathing – hot and heavy only a few moments ago – was peaceful and even.

“Whoa, kiddo, you can’t sleep now.”

The boy groaned and rolled off of him, wrapping himself in the white comforter. Gohan didn’t particularly want to move either; but if he didn’t get Trunks back for training there would be hell to pay and he didn’t want to see the young prince painted black and blue again. With some effort, he pushed himself to his feet and fished Trunks’s hand from the blankets. He pulled, but the other was like dead weight and made no move to get up.

“C’mon, Gohan,” he whined, his voice muffled by the cover. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“I know. I was there.”

Trunks pulled the blanket off his head, smiling sleepily as he stared up at the older man. “Yeah ya were.”

“Alright.” Gohan dropped onto one knee, exasperated, and prepared to toss the royal demi over his shoulder if he had to. “C’mon, Sleeping Beauty. You know how Vegeta feels about punctuality.”

But at the mention of his father’s name, Trunks sat bolt upright, knocking the firstborn on his backside. He blinked panicked blue eyes and, here and there, strands of violet hair stood on end. “What time is it?”

Gohan rubbed his jaw where the teen’s hard head had hit it. He forgot just how well that little trick worked. Though Trunks was decidedly cute when half asleep and in mortal fear of Vegeta.

“We still have time. But I was thinking we might get something to eat on our way back. I won’t hand you over to him on an empty stomach again.”

The prince yawned, relieved, then leaned back on his hands. “Aww. No breakfast in bed this morning?”

“No way,” the elder Son bristled, standing and pulling Trunks to his feet as well. “No offense, kid, but I’m not letting you out of my sight this time.”

***

Within moments, they were in Trunks’s bedroom at the apartment. “Hey, nice!” Gohan exclaimed, looking down at his feet. “I even got the blanket!”

The Capsule heir slapped a palm to his forehead. “ITing with you is a disaster waiting to happen,” he grumbled. Turning in the direction of the bathroom, he kicked a red-orange crab that was scampering sideways across the floor back toward Gohan, who bent down to pick it up.

“Don’t mind him,” the older man explained quietly when the sound of the shower water reached him. “Trunks is always cranky in the mornings.”

“I heard that!”

Fifteen minutes later, the royal demi appeared in the dining room fresh and clean, wearing black unisex yoga pants and a blue sleeveless shirt. His own name was printed in yellow block letters across the front. Gohan sat a large bowl of scrambled eggs with cheese on the table and a plate piled high with buttered toast right next to it. His bedroom and bathroom were now empty, so he had prepared breakfast while waiting to use Trunks’s shower.

“Mmm. Is that crabmeat I taste?” The teen’s question was muffled by a mouthful of eggs. He was famished and had shoveled another half-dozen forkfuls into his mouth by the time he turned his eyes to the chef. “Hey, those are my underwear.”

Gohan was clad in a pair of blue boxer-briefs Trunks was sure he recognized. He tilted his head to get a better view.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all . . . .” He kept staring as he licked melted cheese off his fork.

“I’ll have to borrow your soap and towels, too. All of my things are back at Mount Paozu,” Gohan explained. He hoped that Trunks would invite him to move back in, though they hadn’t really had a chance to discuss it yet. With an expectant grin, he decided to just throw it out there. “I . . . was considering going to get some of them today while you’re training. What do you think?”

The statement got the younger boy’s attention and he lifted his gaze to meet Gohan’s eyes, though the older demi couldn’t read his expression. Shortly, Trunks turned to survey the rest of the apartment. Much of the furniture Bulma had bought specifically for the place, but there were noticeable vacancies where Gohan had removed wall art and other personal items. The cherry wood shelves that surrounded their flat screen TV were conspicuously void of books and photos. Only a few randomly placed candles and some video game discs remained.

Had Gohan really cleaned out every one of his things? Not even a pair of underwear left in the apartment? Not a single bar of soap?

Even as Trunks pushed his plate away and headed down the hall toward his roommate’s old bedroom, he knew he was being ridiculous. His mother had told him exactly what to expect we he got home, and he had prepared himself for it the night before. But for some reason in the light of day things always seemed so much more stark and undeniable; and that reality stared him in the face as Gohan’s bedroom door opened.

With no curtains on the windows, bright morning light poured into the room, illuminating its spotless, empty corners. When Trunks felt Gohan’s hand on his shoulder, he shrugged it off, refusing to meet the other’s eyes.

It wasn’t that he was mad. It was fear that was blurring his vision as he stared at the opposite wall. Growing up a superhero had a funny way of making a person feel invincible, but Trunks had recently learned the hard way that he was anything but. The thought of being hurt again was terrifying, and even though Gohan had the same uncanny ability as his father to make everyone around him feel safe and protected, it suddenly occurred to Trunks that the elder Son might be no more careful with his feelings than his little brother had been. The sight of the empty room reminded him just how close he’d come to losing it all and he supposed that, after the night they’d just spent together, his emotions were particularly raw.

“Trunks.” Gohan’s tone was soft and apologetic, though he didn’t attempt to touch the boy again. “If I come back here – that is, if you want me to – I don’t want it to be as just your roommate, okay? I want to do things right this time around.” He paused and Trunks glanced at him, his eyes giving Gohan hope that he was at least listening. “Maybe we could look at this like a new start,” he suggested. “Rather than bringing all my old stuff back, we could even go out and buy some new stuff. Redecorate, you know? Together.”

Even if it was only furniture, getting rid of some of the baggage of their past relationships had to be a good thing, Gohan thought, and his optimism rose as Trunks raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

Gohan nodded. “Yeah.”

“Could . . . we go with a contemporary Asian motif?”

“Huh? Oh, sure,” the elder Son shrugged accommodatingly. “Whatever you want.”

“Well . . . .” Blue eyes swept the room. “I’d like dark furniture. Something minimalist and urban. Maybe with shoji screens on the windows and—. Come to think of it, I saw this one designer on ‘MTV Cribs’ who specializes in—.”

Gohan drowned him out, scratching the back of his head nervously. He’d been imagining a new bed and maybe a throw rug or two and he vaguely wondered whose money Trunks was planning to spend on this famous and sought-after designer. But he couldn’t exactly take the offer back now.

A pointed stare interrupted his thoughts as though the other boy could read them. “I’m assuming, of course, that money is no object.”

“Uh, right . . . of course not.”

“And when we’re done,” Trunks decided, sounding more excited already, “we’ll have a big dinner party so that everyone can see what great taste we have and how fantastic we are.”

“Heh . . . .” Gohan eyed him dubiously. He would have to remember in the future that there was really no such thing as ‘giving an inch’ with Trunks. But for now, he was just glad to have avoided disaster.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed with as much enthusiasm as possible, steering the teen back toward the table. When Trunks had settled happily into his chair and served himself another helping of eggs, Gohan cautiously continued. “Anyway . . . do you have a shirt I could borrow for now? I think my pants from yesterday can be salvaged but the rest is a mess.”

Trunks thought about it for a moment. “I have a striped polo in my closet that would match. Look for the maroon and white one. It should fit you.”

“Thanks.”

He pushed his chair back on two legs and watched Gohan make his way down the hall in the opposite direction. “You could always leave your clothes at Mount Paozu, too, you know,” he shouted after the other man. “While we’re redecorating, might as well revamp your wardrobe, right?”

Gohan smiled, being sure to keep his back to the dining room.

“Quit while you’re ahead, Trunks,” he warned, pushing open the teen’s bedroom door. But his smile faded as he walked to the bathroom and got in the shower, turning his attention to his next major feat of diplomacy. He had a sinking feeling that his mother wouldn’t be nearly so easy to appease.

***

“So he ended up with Gohan.” Bulma spoke behind the ceramic mug she was sipping from. She’d stepped out onto the large balcony at Capsule Corp. to enjoy her third cup of coffee that morning and saw the boys touch down on the lawn near the gravity room. She didn’t fail to notice that they came from the direction of Trunks’s apartment. Neither one knew she was there by the looks of it, and she smiled as she watched them exchange awkward goodbyes.

After they had whispered some words she couldn’t hear, Trunks lifted one hand to see the other off at the same time that Gohan bent down to peck him on the lips. It was clear her son wasn’t expecting it and he glanced away at the last moment, nearly causing the older demi to miss his mark. She could see both of them smile and try again, Trunks hesitating noticeably before lifting his chin to briefly meet Gohan’s. She giggled to herself, remembering exactly what those days felt like; though for Bulma they were a long time ago now.

“He’s a little old for the boy, don’t you think?” came a voice from behind.

“Oh, I don’t know, honey.” She shot a critical look in his direction. “To be honest, I’m a little bit jealous. Gohan seems very romantic.” The Saiyan prince didn’t take the bait, only rolling his eyes as if to tell her not to expect any dramatic overtures from him anytime soon. “Besides,” she continued, “I thought when you were Trunks’s age, you were commanding entire armies and all—.”

Vegeta cut her off impatiently with a wave of his hand. Damned woman had a fine selective memory. She was right, though, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Looking at Trunks, he almost couldn’t believe what his own life had been like at that age. Though technically an adult, the teen seemed far too young to have seen the things that Vegeta had seen by then. To have done the things he had done. Maybe the pureblood was as guilty as Bulma of pampering him; but who could blame him for trying to give his son the uncorrupted youth he himself had never known?

That was all it was that made him narrow his eyes in the direction of the dark-haired demi as he disappeared toward the countryside.

Not some ridiculous daddy’s-little-girl mentality.

Not in the least.

With an annoyed growl, Vegeta jumped the balcony rail, forgetting about Gohan and deciding to take his hostility out on Trunks. He was likely the one to blame for all this anyway. Much like both his mother and his father, he wasn’t big on taking ‘no’ for an answer and, Vegeta supposed, at least in this time line Gohan had the decency to wait until he was legal.

Trunks was oblivious to his father’s approach, confirming Vegeta’s suspicions that he was tired and distracted, two conditions that were inexcusable in battle. The Saiyan prince got his attention by swiping his feet out from under him so that Trunks landed on his stomach with a huff.

“Ow . . . .”

Vegeta planted one clean, white boot between his shoulder blades and leaned down on his knee. “One thousand push-ups. Now.”

“Geez, Dad. Just give me one second to get—.”

“Make it ten!”

The teenager clenched his jaw but remained silent and after a moment planted his palms on the ground.

“One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . .”

“Who said you could use both hands? Start over.”

“One . . . two . . . three . . . .”

***

Bulma wiped her hands on her pink apron when the telephone rang. The enormous lunch she was making was almost ready and not a moment too soon. Trunks would be finished training before long and with any luck, she could bribe him to stick around a while with a home-cooked meal. She had to admit it wasn’t only concern for the teen that had prompted her to invite him to move back home. It was just too quiet around there without him. And, while she was happy to see Trunks becoming more self-sufficient, a small part of her missed the days when he relied on her for almost everything.

For a mother, it seemed, watching her baby grow up was almost as difficult as it was rewarding. She had to force the sentimental thoughts from her mind as she picked up the phone.

“Bulma here.”

“Where is my son?” the caller demanded. “Where is Gohan? You’d better tell me if he’s there!”

“I don’t know, Chichi,” Bulma cried, the other woman’s angry tone putting her immediately on the defensive. “What in the world is wrong?”

“That delinquent little brat of yours is what’s wrong!” The younger of the two paused to sob loudly. “He has completely turned my Gohan against me!”

“Chichi, you’re not making any sense. Trunks would never do anything to come between you.”

This wasn’t the first irate phone call she’d gotten from Chichi on account of her son but it was hard to imagine what Trunks could’ve done to anger her today when, to the best of Bulma’s knowledge, he hadn’t been anywhere near Mount Paozu.

“Oh, let’s be honest,” Chichi’s tone dripped with repugnance. “From what I can tell, there aren’t a whole lot of things he wouldn’t do for a cheap thrill. You should have known he would turn out this way when you sent him to those all-boys private schools!” she wailed.

“Ooh! You’d better watch your mouth!” the blue-haired woman warned, her voice wavering with the effort it took to keep her temper in check. Goku’s wife wasn’t at the Lookout with the rest of the crew two nights before to witness the boys’ reunion. Gohan hadn’t thought she would handle it well and that suspicion must have been confirmed today. Bulma remembered that Gohan was headed in the direction of home when he took off from Capsule earlier that morning and it was easy to imagine what had happened.

The older woman’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the phone tighter, trying to remind herself that – as ignorant as Chichi was – she must have somehow believed she was protecting her children.

“It’s disgraceful,” Chichi continued. “And if you won’t put a stop to it, I will! Oh, my gosh,” she exclaimed as though she’d only just realized the true horror of the situation. “If Videl ever finds out about this, it’ll ruin any chance Gohan has of getting her back—.”

“Why would you want him to get back with her?” Bulma shouted, cutting in as her anger erupted. “Your ex-daughter-in-law is a liar and a cheater who doesn’t give a damn about your son. And if that’s the kind of person you want him to be with, then I have to wonder how much you care about him and how much you’re thinking of yourself. I don’t know why you can’t just be happy for them.”

“Happy for them? You act as if they’re in a proper relationship!” Chichi spat. “Well let me tell you something, Bulma – Gohan is not thinking with his head right now. He’ll come to his senses and when he does I don’t ever want to see you or Trunks around him again. And the same goes for Goten.”

“So help me, Kami,” Bulma glanced skyward, her whole body shaking. “I won’t listen to this!” she cried, but there was no one on the line. With the sound of the dial tone buzzing in her ear, she threw the phone against a nearby wall, plastic pieces flying as it crashed to the floor.

“Mom?”

She spun around with tears in her eyes to face concerned blue ones. Trunks’s brow creased with worry and he took a few steps toward her. Gohan, who had entered along with him, stood at the door, a frown marring his handsome features.

“Are you okay?” her son asked and she forced a smile.

“I’m fine,” Bulma sniffled, attempting to reassure him.

“Are … you sure? Cuz you seem kind of upset.”

She reached out to smooth down the front of his rumpled shirt. “Oh, sweetie, you look a mess,” she scolded in the harshest tone she could manage. “You’re not sitting down at the table like this. Go and clean yourself up before we have lunch.”

He stared at her suspiciously for a moment before agreeing with a quick look at Gohan, reassuring himself that the other would care for her while he was gone. “Alright, but I’ll be right back.”

She waited as long as she could after Trunks left before leaning back onto the counter and dropping her head into her hands.

“I’m guessing that was my mother.” Gohan was embarrassed. “I’m sorry for whatever she said to upset you. I just came back from talking with her and it . . . it didn’t go well. To say the least.”

“Oh, Gohan,” Bulma dried her tears on the same apron, telling herself to pull it together for the boys’ sake. She was angry more than anything else and she would get over it. But she could only imagine the conflicting emotions Gohan must be feeling. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

He shrugged, still annoyed with himself for expecting anything more from Chichi. But her reaction didn’t change anything. Much like he had told his mother, whether she was supportive or not, he had made up his mind. After all that he and Trunks had overcome to be together, he wasn’t going to let anything divide them now.

Gohan raised his eyes from the floor to meet Bulma’s.

“I didn’t tell him,” he admitted.

The blue-haired woman nodded in silent agreement, knowing Gohan’s reasons for keeping it to himself were the same as her own.

“What about Goten? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Gohan relaxed a bit as he shared the news. “He’s hardly even been at the house, actually. Dad suggested that he move into my old place. Figured it’d give Goten a little of the independence he’s been wanting, but keep him close enough to look after. And,” he added after a pause, “it’ll keep him out of harm’s way while she’s … adjusting to everything.”

“That Goku. He’s smarter than he looks sometimes, isn’t he?”

Gohan returned her smile and the two were grinning at each other by the time Trunks returned.

“Did you just say Goten moved out?” he asked. If he had heard anything else, he didn’t bring it up.

“Uh, yeah,” the other demi nodded, taking a seat at the table next to him. “I bet you’ll be getting a call from him tonight. Dad says he can’t wait to tell you the news.”

“Awesome.” Trunks rubbed his hands together. “Housewarming party.”

“Hey, criminal mastermind,” Gohan waved one hand in front of the teenager to get his attention, “why not put that brain of yours to work thinking of what we’re going to tell Francis when we get home this afternoon?”

“You think of something,” Trunks said dismissively, reaching for a crusty loaf of bread and ripping off a chunk. “You’re the one whose bright idea it was to go flying around downtown.”

“Hmm,” Gohan frowned and Bulma dropped the Sunday edition of the West City Chronicle on the table in front of them.

“Don’t you two ever read the paper?” she teased. “That’s old news.”

Gohan picked it up, alarmed to see a picture of the two of them in the bottom right corner of the front page. It was from the evening before. One of the bystanders must’ve used a cell phone to snap a photo of the Saiyans hovering above the sidewalk.

Bulma continued. “I guess someone recognized Trunks because the reporters called Capsule Corp. to get some answers. According to the article, Meena told them you two were testing a new personal propulsion system that still had a few glitches. After that, people lost interest pretty quickly.” She smiled, quoting from the article. “Just another one of the Briefs’ crazy inventions.”

“Now that’s a loyal employee,” Gohan noted.

“Wow. And I always thought she hated me.”

“Who could hate you?” the older demi teased before Bulma could ask the question for real. “You’re so darn cute.”

“Shut up.” Trunks swatted at him with the newspaper but gave up the assault when he remembered his shredded muscles.

“Now, now. You stop giving my son a hard time,” Bulma scolded as she placed a pair of steaming hot bowls in front of them. “That’s what Vegeta’s here for.”

“That’s right,” the Saiyan prince agreed as he entered the room, his cocky swagger letting the three of them know they were in the presence of royalty. He helped himself to the soup then exited the same way he’d entered. “And you’d better bring your A-game tomorrow, Trunks. I could’ve destroyed you today.”

The teen swallowed the piece of bread he was chewing and, unfazed, reached for another. It was only when they heard the door close behind Vegeta that Trunks answered sweetly, “I love you, too, Dad.” And for the rest of the afternoon, the sound of laughter could be heard echoing from the kitchen and far beyond.

***

An orange-haired woman strode into Capsule Corp., as she did every weekday, though significantly later that morning than every other. Not that it mattered much, since she was personal assistant to a man who worked one day a week, if that. It was a promotion she’d been given the year before, when Bulma announced that her son would be working at the family company when he graduated high school. Before that she’d been the head front desk receptionist and moving up twenty-five floors on the corporate ladder had come not only with a nice pay raise but a much quieter work day.

That was, as long as Trunks was in a good mood.

“Capsule Corporation. How may I direct your call? One moment please.” The younger woman who’d taken over her position looked up from her desk in the lobby, where multiple lights flickered on one of several phones. “Capsule Corporation. Please hold.”

She addressed her next comment to the orange-haired assistant. “Oh, Meena, I’m so glad you’re finally here. Mr. Briefs is in today. He’s been here since nine.”

Hazel eyes widened. “Oh, but—. It’s only Monday! I didn’t think he’d be here until Friday—.”

“I don’t know why he’s here,” the other girl stated. “But he’s been down three times already looking for you. I told him about your little boy and he started asking me all sorts of questions. I hope I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t have, but he just makes me so nervous—.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault, sweetie,” Meena attempted to reassure her as she rushed towards the elevators. “I’d better hurry upstairs.”

“Let me know how it goes!”

Meena swallowed when the lift stopped at the twenty-fifth floor and she saw that the double doors that led to their office suite were already wide open, all the lights on inside. She crept toward the entrance and, in her uneasiness, jumped when she saw her boss there, leaning back against her desk, one ankle crossed over the other. He was looking down at some kind of portfolio, a shiny white folder with a few pieces of paper inside.

“It’s about time.”

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, dropping her purse on a chair and hurrying to open the blinds on the floor to ceiling windows at the north side of room. “My son had baseball tryouts this morning and I promised him I would be there to watch. I didn’t know you’d be in today or I would’ve asked in advance. It’s just, he loves baseball and this is the first year he’s old enough for the team—.”

She stopped herself, unsure why she was carrying on. She couldn’t imagine there was anything less interesting to her boss than her ten-year-old’s favorite sport.

“Can I . . . get you anything?” she asked, turning around to face him when the room was cast in just the right amount of subdued sunlight.

“Did he make it?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did he make the team?”

“Oh—yes.” She couldn’t help the smile that flitted across her features. “Yes, he did.”

Trunks closed the folder he’d been looking at and took a few steps toward her. When he moved, Meena could see a glass vase on her desk, wrapped with cream-colored ribbon fastened at the top with pearl-studded pins. It was full of roses. Twenty-four blue ones to be exact; extremely rare, genetically engineered, and most certainly expensive.

He handed her the pamphlet he’d been leafing through. “My congratulations. I hope that he’ll enjoy these. Season tickets to West City Stadium for the spring. Right behind the batter’s box. I’m told they’re the best seats in the house.”

Meena only looked at him, speechless – a rare quality for her indeed.

“I read what you told the paper about me. You really saved my ass.” The Capsule heir flashed a perfect smile and it put his assistant at ease. He glanced at the clock. It was already five after twelve. “I would’ve taken you out to eat, but you know my lunch hour is sacrosanct.”

“Oh!” Meena gasped. “And I’ve already made you late. Your father will be so angry!”

He only winked at her before walking out of the room, the mischievous sparkle in his eye reminding her how young he really was. It was easy to forget sometimes, when he was playing the corporate executive. The stunned woman followed him as far as the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Briefs! Thank you so much!”

With that, she rushed to the telephone and punched in a few numbers. “Janine? It’s Meena. You will never believe what just happened . . . !”

***

Gohan tapped a pencil against his chin then dropped it onto his desk among the stacks of paper piled there. It was already after one o’clock and he was starting to lose focus after a fairly productive morning. He figured a diet soda would get him through his last meeting of the day and then he could go to a late lunch. Maybe Trunks would want to come.

The dark-haired demi exited his office only to be pushed back inside by five fingers planted in the middle of his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Trunks kicked the door shut behind him, shooting Gohan a disturbingly Vegeta-like smirk. It actually made the older demi hesitate before answering.

“I … was going to get a Coke?”

But he got the feeling Trunks wasn’t really listening. He wasn’t even looking Gohan in the face. Rather his blue eyes were drinking in the rest of him, from pinstriped button-down to tightly laced loafers. The teen grabbed him by the tie.

“I really love this sexy professor thing you’ve got going on.”

“I don’t think that I, uh, have anything going on—.” Gohan glanced backwards when his legs hit the edge of his desk and realized he couldn’t back up any further. The teen took the opportunity to pounce on him, propping himself up on the desk, his knees on either side of the other.

“What if I told you I didn’t do my homework? Would you teach me a lesson?”

“Trunks . . . .” Gohan could feel his skin warming even as his eyes shot nervously toward the door. “What’s gotten into you?” he whispered, returning his gaze to the younger boy.

Instead of his usual suit, Trunks wore a green gi with an orange belt that looked alarmingly like the one he had as a kid. It made Gohan irrationally ashamed of the raging hard-on he’d acquired since the other entered the room. “Did you just come back from training or something?”

Trunks kissed him rather than answering. Gohan had absolutely no will to fight it and it wasn’t until young prince needed air that their mouths parted again. He reached down to pull Gohan’s shirt from where it tucked into his pants.

“I can’t,” the older protested, half-heartedly. “Especially not with you wearing that.”

“If you don’t like it, I can take it off.”

“No, wait,” Gohan instructed as fabric started to rustle above him, but the boy had already stripped to the waist. “I have a meeting scheduled with your mother at one.”

“So what?” Trunks landed on his feet again, reaching for the elder Son’s belt and pulling the leather from its clasp with a clicking sound. “Skip it.”

“That’s the thing. We’re sort of . . . meeting in my office.”

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. “Gohan?” An easily recognizable voice came from the other side. “Are you in there?”

Bulma tried the handle and the metal knob on their side shook.

“Put your clothes back on!” the dark-haired demi whispered fiercely, but Trunks only put a finger to his own lips, shushing him.

Soundlessly, he reached out to flip the lock on the nearest window and slid it open. “C’mon.”

He held out one hand and Gohan looked at the door reluctantly. There was no way this was a good decision. It was completely inappropriate, Bulma would be furious, and if he was any other employee, there was no way he’d escape getting fired.

But . . . .

He looked at Trunks again. Bulma was one of his oldest friends. She’d find a way to forgive him. Right?

The pounding on the door became more insistent as he took the prince’s hand and climbed onto the ledge.

“Dammit, Trunks!” The woman on the other side shouted, throwing in a kick for good measure. “What did I tell you about ground rules? He is mine” from nine to five!

The End

Author’s Notes: Just a little DBZ chick lit. “Present” timeline. This story is based on an idea suggested to me by the one, the only Lord Truhan — many, many thanks! It seems to be taking a different path than I originally envisioned, but I’m having fun with it so I’m gonna run with it :) Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 17

The Supreme Kai approached Goku where he stood at the Lookout, gazing with somber features into the Kai’s crystal ball. The image of the two youngest demis, embracing on the dark landscape of the faraway planet, glowed on the surface of the glass.

When Supreme Kai had shown up beside him in the moments before their ship crashed, and whisked him away from disaster, Goku had been stunned to find himself at the Lookout, surrounded by family and friends. Piccolo, Dende, Vegeta, Bulma, and Popo kept their distance while Gohan explained to his father why they left the boys to fend for themselves. Goten and Trunks, it seemed, had a lot of issues to work out and the only way the Z-fighters thought they could do it was if their lives practically depended on it; if they were left with nothing and no one else to turn to.

The others had watched, gathered around the crystal ball like a television, as the boys rose from the ashes that day in more ways than one. But nobody had been more surprised than Goku to see the scene unfold. Until then, he had no idea there was any truth to Vegeta’s suspicions that the teens were fighting because of their feelings for each other. And now, though he was happy to see the boys reunited, he felt more estranged from Goten than ever.

He turned his gaze to the prince of all Saiyans and his eyes were met by those all-seeing black ones. It was with good reason, Goku supposed, that he’d been the last to know about Goten and Trunks. Until they started fighting, Goku hadn’t even really paid attention.

The years he had missed with his family as a result of his choices were never a consequence Goku intended and never something he accepted without remorse. But by the time he returned home from Otherworld ten years ago, Goten already followed his brother around like a puppy; and he had a close friendship with Trunks, just as Gohan always had with Piccolo. As far as Goku could tell, everyone was perfectly happy that way. Indeed, it seemed as though his family had become quite self-sufficient without him.

It was only in hindsight that he recognized his son’s recent behavior for what it really was. And, while Goku doubted he’d be winning any Father of the Year awards any time soon, cries for help were his forte. He turned to the purple deity waiting nearby.

“Can you take me to see him, Supreme Kai?”

***

Goten lifted his head from his friend’s shoulder abruptly. He stared at a point on the edge of the forest where two shadowy figures took shape. He wouldn’t have trusted his eyes, but there could be no doubt who that energy belonged to.

“Dad!” Goten shouted, taking off at a run in Goku’s direction. “Dad, I can’t believe it! You’re okay! We looked everywhere, we—.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you, son. I was back on Earth, that’s all. Supreme Kai pulled me out of the ship using instantaneous movement.”

“Goku, nice of you to show up.” Trunks greeted cheerfully as he took his place alongside Goten. Then he cast a judgmental glance at their other visitor. “As for you, thanks for nothing! You know, Goten,” the teen addressed his friend, lifting his nose in the air, “this isn’t the first time he’s saved Goku and left us to die. I’m starting to sense a pattern here.”

The pureblood smiled. Only Vegeta’s son would talk to the supreme ruler of all life in the universe as if the god owed him something.

“I assure you,” Kibito promised, “if you had been in any danger, I would have taken all three of you home with me.”

Ignoring the argument, Goten stepped closer to his father. He didn’t really care where Goku had been or why Supreme Kai took him away. What mattered was that Trunks had been right. He had a second chance to tell Goku how he felt and he wasn’t going to wait.

“Dad?” He stared up at the tall Saiyan. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m sorry about last week at the lake. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean it.”

“No, you were right to speak up, son.” Turning to properly face the boy, Goku put a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve an explanation, Goten. It’s just that I’m afraid I don’t really have one.”

Goku stared into eyes identical to his own. Sure, he could give Goten reasons. But what would they matter? The teen didn’t really want answers. He just wanted his dad. And while Goku couldn’t make up for the mistakes of the past, he could be the person now that Goten needed him to be.

“Whaddaya say we give this whole father-son thing another try,” he suggested. “I promise, I’m really not such a bad guy if you get to know me.”

Goten smiled and shook his head. “I’d like that.” Then, more animatedly, “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Goku began, “cuz we have a lot of catching up to do. Like for starters, when the heck did you guys start kissing!?”

“Da-ad . . .” Goten begged his father’s discretion as his cheeks colored a deep red.

“Oh, no need to be embarrassed, son! Trunks is a real looker. Just like his mom.” He approached the royal demi and slapped one of his shoulders like a stamp of approval. “And strong, too. Like his dad.”

Goten only stared at them aghast while Trunks broke into nervous laughter.

“Boy, I could hardly believe it when I saw that! Tell ‘em Supreme Kai.”

The deity shot a wary smile at Trunks, knowing what was coming.

“What do you mean saw it?” the aforementioned Saiyan demanded, forgetting self-consciousness in favor of suspicion. If Goku and the Kai were anywhere near close enough to see them, he and Goten would’ve known it.

“When we were watching you on Supreme Kai’s crystal ball,” Goku announced, oblivious to the offended gasp of his audience. “Oh, yeah, everyone was there! Me, your mom and dad. Hmm, Piccolo and Dende. Mr. Popo and Supreme Kai of course. Oh and Old Kai, too. Man, you shoulda seen the look on his face—.”

“Excuse me,” Trunks cried finally, “this is not a pay-per-view event!”

But then he felt Goten’s hand on his arm and shut up after one look at his friend. Goten was staring at the pureblood apprehensively.

“What about Mom?” Goten swallowed. “Was she—?”

“Listen to me, son,” Goku cut him off abruptly. “I know sometimes it’s hard to tell, but your mother . . . . She only acts the way she does because she wants the best for you and your brother. Because she loves you very much. And so do I, Goten. We want you to be happy. So just leave worrying about your mom to me.”

Trunks thought that Goku had rather skillfully avoided the question. But, however Chichi responded to the news, Goku’s solemn promise to insulate his son from the negative was all the youngest demi needed to hear. His features relaxed and the fearful look was replaced by one of gratefulness, even pride.

The Capsule heir watched them have their moment, truly happy for his friend. But he was struck by the bittersweet realization that it wasn’t only Goku’s absences that had caused the rift between them over the years. The secrets he and Goten had been keeping most of their lives did much to isolate them from the others. And whether Goten knew it at that moment or not, in deciding to take his side Goku had already cleared one of the biggest hurdles on their road to a healthy relationship.

Goten became aware of Trunks watching them and it reminded him of something important. “Hey, Dad, was Gohan there, too? Watching the pay-per-view?”

Trunks rolled his eyes.

“Well, sure. The whole thing was his idea, actually.”

“Then I need to see to him right away. Can you take me there?”

Goku turned away from him. “What about it, Supreme Kai? Can we get a lift home?”

Kibito bowed in that reverent way he had despite the fact that he was the most venerated of gods. “Of course.”

But as the four of them linked arms to prepare for transport, Goku scratched his temple. “Oh, you know, maybe we ought to drop Trunks off first. Bulma’s been worried sick about him. I guess she feels pretty bad about sending us all into space on a ship with no wires or brakes or anything. But hey, all’s well that ends well, I say!”

***

“You sabotaged our ship!?”

Dawn was breaking at Capsule Corporation when Trunks burst into the kitchen of the main house. The blue-haired woman jumped at the sound of her son’s voice while Vegeta, who’d long sensed his approach, calmly shoveled another forkful of breakfast into his mouth.

The teen focused his condemning gaze on his mother and Bulma cringed, thinking that while Trunks certainly had her eyes the glare was all Vegeta. She held her arm out and pointed a finger at the Saiyan prince.

“Your father made me do it!”

“You could have at least shipwrecked them on a planet with increased gravity,” the accused complained and Trunks relaxed his posture with a sigh.

“My parents,” he gestured at them hopelessly. “My own parents tried to kill me.”

Vegeta took a leisurely gulp from his mug. “If I’m trying to kill you, son, you’ll know it.”

Trunks crossed the room and picked up a shiny red apple from where it sat among some other fruit in a bowl. “Is there even such a thing as black star dragon balls?”

“Of course not,” his father answered. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, all I can say is . . . .” He tossed the apple into the air and caught it then shot a quick smile at Bulma, much to her relief. “Thanks.”

On the next throw, however, Vegeta reached out and snagged the apple from midair above his hand.

“If you want to thank me, you can start by eating your own food.”

He bit into the piece of fruit with a loud crunch and Trunks stared blankly at the back of his head. That sound was immediately followed by a cracking noise when the wooden spoon Bulma was holding met her husband’s skull.

“What is your problem, Vegeta?”

“For gods’ sake, the boy can fend for himself! By the time I was his age, I had entire armies under my command. And I did it all without my mother suckling me at her teat.”

“Oh, and I bet she would’ve been real proud of her son – the homicidal maniac!”

“Ugh, humans!” he growled.

“Hey, buddy, I don’t know when you last looked at an evolutionary chart but—.”

With his parents thus preoccupied, Trunks decided it was time to take his leave. He got the feeling this was like foreplay to them and didn’t particularly want to be there for the next round. Besides, he was sure he had dirt in places he didn’t even know he ihad/i places and even more than food he really needed a shower.

The sounds of their arguing followed him as he exited the kitchen and headed for the nearest bathroom, taking some comfort in the fact that life was slowly returning to normally abnormal.

***

Gohan dropped another pile of his clothes onto the couch. Wanting to be sure he was at the Lookout in time to meet his dad, he had packed his things hurriedly at the apartment in West City. Then, unable to fall asleep after the rendezvous with the Z-fighters, he decided it was as good a time as any to start settling in to his new home. Now his once neatly pressed outfits were lying in haphazard piles around him and it didn’t make this grim task any easier.

He wasn’t happy to be back here, in the house he once shared with Videl.

So far away from Trunks.

So unfortunately close to his mother.

But Gohan didn’t want to impose any longer on his hosts at the Lookout, where he’d been staying since the previous weekend, so he forced the second thoughts from his mind and returned to folding.

And sorting.

And organizing.

And arranging.

God, was this what his life had been like before? So monotonous and dull?

He was startled from his gloomy thoughts when he felt the energy signals of his father and brother approaching. Standing to greet the two as they materialized in the room, he realized that this was the moment when all he had given up would be worth it. When he saw Goten’s smiling face and got that warm, fuzzy feeling that only the happiness of a loved one could bring. When Goten looked him right in the eye and said—.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Gohan!?”

“Er . . . ?”

Goten didn’t even wait for his brother to answer. Marching right over to him, he knocked on the other’s forehead. It wasn’t often that Gohan was wrong and he was right, so Goten figured he’d better play it up while he could. “Anyone home in there?”

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” his brother asked, slapping his hand away.

“Why don’t you stop me when this rings a bell.” Goten began counting off the offenses on his fingers. “Not speaking to Trunks for five days. Almost ruining his big presentation. Breaking up with him in the hallway at work. Oh,” Goten added as he glanced around the room, “and moving out behind his back while he’s stranded in outer space.”

“Now, wait a minute!” the older demi protested. “You’ve got it all wrong, Goten, I—. I didn’t . . . break up with him in the hallway.” Gohan faltered, then offered with as much dignity as he could manage, “It . . . was the elevator.”

But the elder Son was easily defeated. He’d been so worried about Goten’s feelings that he hadn’t really thought about what Trunks was going through. And in retrospect he couldn’t believe he had rationalized treating a friend so badly.

Especially after—.

“After you slept with him!” Goten noted, as if reading his mind. “Boy when you said you make bad decisions all the time, you weren’t kidding, were you, Big Brother?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Goku interjected, waving his arms and regarding the boys with wide eyes. He was trying his hardest to follow along but this was starting to remind him of one of old Master Roshi’s romance programs. “I thought that Trunks and Goten were together!”

“Dad, please,” the teenager admonished quietly. “That was so three weeks ago.”

“But, that kiss—.” Gohan was at a loss to interpret his brother’s behavior. When Goten had found him and Trunks together, he had seemed devastated by their relationship. Even if he was angry at Gohan for the way he handled breaking it off, now that the boys were back together, hadn’t it all been for the best?

“That kiss,” Goten informed him bluntly, “was goodbye.”

“Goten, I . . . I don’t understand.”

“That’s my point!” The other demi gestured emphatically. “You totally don’t get it, Gohan.”

His older brother sat back on the arm of the nearby couch. He ran a hand through his hair, and Goten could clearly see the guilt reflected in his charcoal eyes.

“I was only trying to do what I thought was best.” Gohan attempted to reassure himself, but all the good intentions in the world could do little to ease his mind right then.

“I know,” Goten admitted, and his voice was much more sympathetic this time. He walked over to stand next to the firstborn and nudged him gently. “I know exactly what you were trying to do, Gohan. And you’re the best big brother a guy could ever have.”

Goten stared at him thoughtfully. Gohan had only been eleven years old when Goten was born and Goku died. But he had accepted the things he couldn’t change and filled their father’s shoes without complaining. And he had somehow managed to fit raising his kid brother in between graduating with honors and making sure the family didn’t starve. Goten realized that, probably long before he was even born, Gohan had willingly sacrificed for the good of others the happy-go-lucky childhood that Goten selfishly clung to even now.

And yet he had never asked for anything in return; and Goten sincerely doubted he had anything to give that could provide his brother the kind of happiness his brother had always provided him.

That was . . . until now.

“Thing is,” he mused, “what’s best for me and Trunks isn’t really for you to decide. The choice was his to make, Gohan. And he chose you.”

When Gohan turned to face him, Goten met his eyes without wavering. The youngest Son’s expression was open, as it always was. He couldn’t hide his emotions the way the others did and Gohan had long ago learned that he could gauge his brother’s feelings just by looking at him. Though, search as he might, he could find nothing but contentment in his childlike expression now.

“It’s okay, really,” the teen insisted preemptively. “I have another relationship I need to be working on right now.” Goten glanced sidelong at their dad who returned his optimistic smile. Then he turned back to his brother.

But before the boy could say anything else, Gohan stood up and draped a heavy arm around his neck. He dragged Goten to him and buried his face in the spiky hair. Goten closed one eye as a few stray pieces fell into his face and giggled awkwardly at his brother’s overt display of affection.

It seemed to him that Gohan always had some profound thing or other to say; some precious nugget of wisdom to impart. And to see words fail him now was perplexing for the smaller boy. But he happily pressed his cheek into his brother’s shirt and tried not to squirm too much while Gohan held tight to him.

When at last he let go, it was only to trap the younger demi in a headlock and rub his knuckles across Goten’s scalp, messing up his hair like he did when they were kids.

“C’mon, Gohan! Knock it off!” Goten demanded, attempting to wriggle out of the other’s grasp while smacking blindly at his arms. Really though, he was glad for the lighthearted gesture and when the two finally disentangled, it was with matching grins.

“So, let me get this straight,” Goku interrupted, a contemplative look on his face. “First Goten was with Trunks and now Gohan is with Trunks. So . . . if Trunks was going to make it a trifecta . . . .” Alarmed, he glanced from one boy to the other. “Then that would mean—!”

Goten leapt toward the older Saiyan. “Nevermind about that, Dad!” He ushered the pureblood toward the door, all the while flashing his teeth at Gohan in a conciliatory smile. “Let’s just leave the lovebirds to work things out, mm-kay?” Goten suggested, pushing a blinking Goku onto the lawn.

Once his father was safely outside, Goten waited until he started across the grass for home. He watched Goku disappear through the door to the kitchen but didn’t follow just yet. Instead he leaned back into the room, fingering the doorframe. “Hey, Gohan?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering . . . . Can I still run to him with good news and turn to him when it’s bad?”

Gohan pressed his lips into a thin line and Goten worried that he had upset his brother by the way he was refusing to speak again. But finally the older demi shook his head. “Of course you can, Goten. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Appeased, the teen turned to leave, but stopped to offer one final piece of advice.

“Good luck, Big Brother. He’s not exactly Mr. Forgive-and-Forget, you know.” He realized Gohan would have a twice-scorned Trunks on his hands and he really didn’t envy the man his task. Though he did think it might be fun to see the demi-Saiyan prince put someone else through the ringer for once. “Hey, just make sure you’re not wearing anything he gave you the next time you see him!”

While Gohan contemplated it, his eyes came to rest on the sofa where his clothes still lay in untidy piles. He eyed the mahogany fabric of the only outfit that didn’t belong there.

“You know something, Goten? I think I’ll make sure that I am.”

***

Trunks landed on the balcony of his apartment just after dark. As soon as he’d finished showering, he had passed out from sheer exhaustion in his old bedroom. When he awoke, Vegeta had graciously allowed him to dine with them, commenting that he would need his energy for the next day, when the Saiyan prince would implement his new and improved, ultra-sadistic training program. Bulma had also suggested that Trunks work full-time at the family business starting on Monday to keep him busy until the spring semester began. Then, determining that he’d be spending plenty of time at the Capsule complex as it was, Trunks had once again refused her offer to move back in.

Reaching out now for the handle on the glass door, he automatically scanned the area for Gohan’s energy, though he knew the other man wouldn’t be there. In order to spare him from finding out the hard way by walking into a half empty apartment, Bulma had told Trunks before he left her house that Gohan had moved out. And, although he hadn’t been particularly surprised to hear the news, it somehow stung all the same; especially now, as he stared through the glass into the dark room beyond it.

Opting not to go inside just yet, Trunks lifted off again and floated one story up to the roof of the building. The wrought-iron railing that surrounded it had been decorated with strings of white lights and a few café tables and chairs dotted the rooftop, separated from each other by large potted plants. It would have been a nice place to relax on a moonlit summer night, but now it was deserted, the crisp fall air keeping the building residents inside. Trunks leaned against the railing and looked down at the street below, watching the city move.

He was grateful to be back on Earth and for the familiar sounds of traffic and snippets of conversation echoing off the buildings around him. It was a relief to have his life back – for the most part – even though it wasn’t the way he always imagined it would be.

Trunks raised his ki as a cold breeze picked up. It cut through the thin black leather of the waist-cut jacket he wore with D&G indigo washed jeans, both of which had been chosen more for fashion than for warmth. Surrounding himself with the same invisible energy barrier they used for protection from the wind when flying, the demi-Saiyan watched his hand begin to glow faintly. He didn’t remember just how much of this energy he could channel at one time until it had been absolutely necessary to do so.

To save Goten.

Trunks stared through his spread fingers and focused on the ground again. The people there were gathering on street corners and popping in and out of shops and bars. Some of them walked alone, some in pairs, and others in groups of three and four. He tried to imagine himself among them, and thought maybe instead of spending the night in his empty apartment, he would go out and try to make some friends. But he had known what it really meant to be one with another person; and somehow being surrounded by others – even the millions of others that this city offered – just didn’t compare.

Even if Goten was right and Trunks could have anyone down there that he wanted, he had to wonder, as he rested his elbow on the railing and his chin in his hand, who among them could possibly save him.

Lost in his thoughts, the teen jumped at the sound of his own name.

“Trunks?”

When he turned around he was surprised to see his old roommate standing there.

“Uh—Gohan. When did you—?”

Trailing off, he let his eyes roam move over the other man, statuesque as he looked in tailored Italian wool. His jacket was buttoned over a matching vest and the maroon silk of the tie he wore was visible only for a few inches below his neckline. The deep plum color of the fabric set off his dark eyes and hair just as nicely as Trunks remembered and he found he had a sudden, inexplicable craving for chocolate covered cherries – and one juicy piece of eye candy in particular.

He stopped himself before he could actually lick his lips and cleared his throat instead.

“I, uh . . . I didn’t know you kept that.”

“Yeah,” Gohan mused as he looked down at himself. “Neither did I, actually.”

“Oh, right.” Trunks rubbed the back of his head, remembering how he had slipped the unwanted garment into Gohan’s closet a few days after they argued over it. The suit had been custom-fitted after all and it couldn’t have looked as good on anyone else, so he didn’t see the point of returning it. He figured Gohan would eventually come around and accept it. Or, if not, he’d at least yell at Trunks again when he found it there. It really made no difference to the young prince at the time. He’d have taken attention from his roommate any way he could get it. “Uh, sorry,” he offered a belated apology.

“I didn’t come here about that.”

“Oh.”

Trunks closed his eyes briefly and cursed at himself. He remembered a time when he’d made sport of flustering his roommate. And yet this was the second time now that he’d found himself barely able to form coherent sentences in the other man’s presence. It was embarrassing!

“Goten told me what happened up there.” The older demi glanced skyward and finally the lavender head nodded in understanding. He remembered Goku saying that it was Gohan’s idea to send the boys into space in the hopes they’d reconcile. And suddenly he found he had plenty to say.

“So, Goten told you we weren’t getting back together and you came here to try and change my mind.” Trunks turned his back to his visitor dismissively and, with a bemused snicker, resumed watching the people below. “While I appreciate your concern, Gohan, I’m not quite as useless as you think I am. On occasion, I can actually make a meaningful decision on my own.”

But a moment later, the other demi stood directly beside him, resting his hands on the railing and following the teenager’s gaze toward the ground. Chilly as he was, Trunks was keenly aware of the warmth he could feel at every point where Gohan’s arm touched his, even through the multiple layers of clothing dividing them. He chanced a quick look to his left at the man’s profile.

“That’s not why I came either.”

Gohan sighed. For the second time that week, he found himself at a loss for where to begin the apologies. He had turned his back on Trunks at a time when the other was suffering, simply because he was afraid of the things he felt. The younger demi had called him on that fear from the very beginning; and yet, it was only now that Gohan realized how right his roommate was.

He couldn’t help but recognize the metaphor at work as they stood on the rooftop looking down. It was so much safer to watch life happen below than to it was to get out there and live a life of one’s own. The latter choice required making a leap of faith, falling, and, most likely, ending up broken and bloody on the pavement.

But Trunks had given him a taste of what he’d been missing; the rush that came from standing right at the edge. And he had finally realized that a life without laughter, and spontaneity, and even tears, well . . . that wasn’t really a life at all.

Besides, where had the safe route ever gotten anybody, anyway?

Much to the younger demi’s surprise, Gohan grabbed his hand.

“C’mon,” he said, jumping up onto the railing and physically pulling Trunks up behind him. The teen scrambled to hoist himself to his feet on the slippery rail as his arm was nearly yanked out of the socket. The soul of one black leather loafer slipped and before he even had time to regain his balance, he felt himself being pulled forward as Gohan – who Trunks firmly decided had lost his mind – leapt off the roof and dragged Trunks behind him.

They plummeted toward the ground and the Capsule heir, in his utter confusion, nearly forgot he could fly until the screams of several of those he’d just been watching snapped him out of his reverie. He pulled up and stopped them both a few feet above the ground, amid the frightened gasps of the humans all around them. Gohan hung from his outstretched arm, feet barely scraping the sidewalk. He gazed up at Trunks and after a moment . . . he smiled.

Trunks shook him off.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he demanded as he touched down a second later; but Gohan only stared at him with a sort of dazed grin. The other demi knew damned well they weren’t supposed to use their powers in front of people unless it was an emergency. And as Trunks glanced left and right at the fearful semi-circle gathering around them he wondered when the hell he had become the level-headed one.

“This is just GREAT,” he snapped at Gohan. “I can’t wait to see what kind of headlines they come up with for this one.” The eldest Son took a step toward him and Trunks backed away. “Why did you even come here, Gohan? If you want to make a spectacle of yourself leaping tall buildings in a single bound, then go dig up your Saiyaman costume and just leave me out of it!”

Angrily, he turned toward the door of his building where the doorman was staring at them in shock. Trunks smoothed his hair and jacket, then gestured at the brass handle of the door expectantly as if there was no reason anyone should be behaving any differently than normal.

Stammering, the man pulled open the door but Trunks barely managed one step toward the lobby when he felt a strong grip on his arm, pulling him back. Inertia spun him around and the teen only had time to gasp shortly before Gohan crushed their mouths together.

“Mmph—!” Out of surprise alone the royal demi protested the kiss, his whole body stiffening in response to Gohan’s other arm tightening around his waist. His alert blue eyes darted in the direction of the crowd, but he could already feel the lids growing heavy. And as soon as he closed his eyes, all Trunks was aware of was the heat of Gohan’s body pressed against his own and the gentle but insistent tongue seeking entrance to his mouth. His head swam and he granted access rather automatically, melting into the embrace with alarmingly little resistance.

As the boy’s body grew heavier in his arms, Gohan let go of his wrist and buried his fingers in the short lavender hair at the nape of the other’s neck. Trunks’s own arms hung at his sides and he seemed satisfied to let the other man hold him up. His protestations started to sound a whole lot more like whimpers and by the time Gohan pulled himself off the teen, Trunks leaned forward for more, eyes closed and mouth still slack.

“God, I missed you,” the dark-haired demi breathed when puzzled blue eyes met his. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested and the still-blinking boy stumbled behind as Gohan led him by the hand through the small crowd. When they reached an open portion of sidewalk, they leapt into the air together, quickly leaving the stunned spectators behind.

It took awhile before Trunks found his voice again. “Where are we going?”

Gohan still held his hand and he flew only as far behind the other demi as his outstretched arm would allow.

“Someplace we can talk.”

“I take it the rooftop wasn’t to your liking.”

Gohan smiled but didn’t answer. He could feel Trunks glaring at the back of his head and knew the teen was trying to figure out what was going on in there. But he allowed Gohan to lead him through the air, apparently content to stick around until he figured it out.

“The Lookout?” Trunks wondered aloud as the semi-spherical platform came into view. It rapidly grew larger as they approached and it was only a few seconds until they touched down on the white marble tiles.

“Just a quick pit stop,” Gohan promised. He held up two hands. “Don’t move.”

With that he raced toward the palace and entered the kitchen, finding the Lookout’s residents there. “Hi, Dende,” he greeted. “Hi, Popo. You don’t mind if I grab a few things, do you?” Without waiting for an answer, Gohan began rooting through the cabinets and, after a moment, he went to the window. “Hey, Trunks, are you hungry?”

From across the platform, the royal demi shook his head in the negative and Gohan returned to the fridge. He chose only a few select provisions then shrunk them down with a storage capsule.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll owe ya one. Oh and I’m taking the blanket from the bedroom I’ve been sleeping in. I should . . . uh . . . wash it for you!” he offered with barely a wave over his shoulder, leaving the young Namek and his assistant to stare mystified at the door.

But there was one person he couldn’t slip anything past.

“What are you two up to?”

The gravelly voice of his mentor was unmistakable and Gohan looked up as he dashed back outside. Piccolo hovered above, seated in a meditative pose, his white cape billowing in the upper atmospheric wind. He stared at them as a parent might a couple of naughty children and Gohan put one hand behind his head with a hereditary Son laugh before he grabbed Trunks’s hand and made for the edge. He pulled the royal demi backward, although the boy followed quite willingly. Trunks lifted one hand and waved his fingers at the green man before dropping off the platform after Gohan.

Piccolo snorted as he resumed his mental exercises. Wherever they were going, he had no desire to follow, and he was reminded again how thankful he was to be an asexual creature; not prone to erratic behavior and illogical mood swings at the hands of that absurdity humans called love. But as the Namekian closed his eyes, he smirked nonetheless.

“It’s good to see you happy, kid.”

***

Trunks watched Gohan spread a goose down comforter on white sand. He leaned back against some large boulders that adorned the crescent-shaped beach the other had chosen as their destination and tapped his fingers on the rock. They had traveled due south and it was just as dark here as it had been in West City, though significantly warmer. But he didn’t think that people came to secluded beaches in the middle of the night just to talk. And, while earlier he’d been sure Gohan had lost his mind, it now seemed that he was acting quite deliberately.

Even as his lower body reacted optimistically to the prospect, his other head screamed in protest. Gohan had told him in no uncertain terms that they couldn’t be together, and as much as the rest of him might want one more night, his psyche wouldn’t make it through another week like the one before. And if Gohan thought he could have his cake and eat it, too – sparing Goten’s feelings with a secret romance – the bastard had another thing coming.

It wasn’t until the eldest Son turned to him with a start that Trunks realized he was making dust out of the stone under his fingertips. But as long as he had Gohan’s attention, “Why did you bring me here?”

The older demi looked surprised as he stood up from the place where he’d been kneeling. He had shed his jacket and tie on the blanket, and rolled up his sleeves now as he regarded Trunks with an artless expression. It immediately made the teen feel bad for his harsh tone of voice, but he held his ground.

“I guess I owe you an explanation for all of this, don’t I?”

Trunks crossed his arms with a short sound that indicated that was the least Gohan could do.

“The truth is, I thought it might be a nice place for our first date.”

“Our—? What?” The prince halted, caught off-guard by the admission. “Isn’t it a little late for that?” He tried his best to be cutting but somehow it didn’t come out that way.

“I hope not.”

Gohan took a few steps in his direction and Trunks didn’t say anything when he reached up to touch his cheek, pushing a few strands of hair behind his ear. “I’m so sorry, Trunks,” he whispered. “I know I can’t just ask you to forget the last six days. I’m only asking for a chance to make it up to you.” His thumb traced the teen’s jaw. “Please.”

Finally blue eyes met black. “But Goten . . . .”

“Said that you weren’t getting back together,” Gohan finished, confirming Trunks’s original suspicion. “And I told you I didn’t come to change your mind.”

Trunks stared at him. He had waited for this moment all week; had dreamed about it even. But when he last saw this man, his passionate appeal to Gohan had been met with uncharacteristic coldness and afterward he’d been forced to question his own instincts. He had wondered if all that he once thought he saw in those dark eyes was nothing more than pathetic wishful thinking on his part; the ill-conceived notion of a boy denied affection for too long. And it scared him that Gohan, like Goten, seemed able to turn his feelings on and off at will.

“For whatever it’s worth, Trunks, staying away from you all this time has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And what I said to you in that elevator, it . . . .” The firstborn paused, took a breath and tried again. “It killed me to—.”

“Gohan, don’t.” Trunks shook his head. “Just don’t.”

He had felt the dull ache those memories could evoke enough in recent days to last a lifetime. But . . . if Gohan had ever cared about him, then Trunks could only imagine how difficult the position was that he found himself in that particular morning; not merely torn between his brother and his lover, but a casualty of their war. And although he couldn’t just forget the last seven days, he was sick and tired of dwelling on the past.

Plus, the present was made noticeably brighter by one inescapable fact.

“You’re here now.”

With one finger, Gohan nudged the other’s chin upwards and leaned in close. Trunks could feel lips graze his cheekbone, and if one syllable could express affection, atonement and hope all at the same time, it did when Gohan spoke his name. But as the lips found their way back to his, Trunks stopped the other demi with two hands planted on his chest.

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise that you won’t ever hold back with me again. Do you hear me, Son Gohan? Because I’ll give you everything. But in return, I want all of you.” He punctuated the sentence with a hard poke to the other’s chest. “That’s the way it works. Get it? Because if not, you might as well just leave now.”

Trunks watched the taller Saiyan as he appeared to think it over, but was annoyed when the decision took longer than he thought it should. “Well?” he challenged. “What’s it going to be?”

Gohan lifted one hand in a solemn pledge. “I promise you, Trunks, never again.” With his other arm he anchored the young demi firmly to himself, allowing Trunks to pull him under and not caring if he resurfaced. “Starting right now.”

Azure eyes closed when soft lips covered his. For as many times as he had thought about them in the last week, Trunks had forgotten how ethereal Gohan’s kisses really were. For all the passion behind them, and all the strength the man possessed, his capacity for tenderness was . . . . It was . . . .

Oh, it was maddening!

Trunks held tight to the front of his vest, sliding his hands underneath the silk and gripping it to pull Gohan closer. But the other demi only chuckled, breaking their mouth-to-mouth contact, which was exactly the opposite of what the teen prince intended. He stared at Gohan’s lips.

“So impatient,” they commented. Then, much to his dismay, the older man pulled away. “Sit, would you?” he gestured toward the blanket then focused a small beam of energy on a pile of driftwood he’d collected earlier.

Trunks seated himself as the flames began to leap into the air, lighting the blanket with moving shadows. There was a forest of palm trees behind them and in addition to the crackling of the fire, their leaves made a rustling sound in the tropical breeze. A bright half-moon shone over the water and the black waves that came ashore here were nothing more than ripples and they lapped at the beach quietly.

The whole thing was really quite romantic, Trunks thought, and he peered at Gohan as he placed a carved wooden tray on the sand and began filling the two glasses on it with champagne.

“What’s that for?” he asked, and the older demi shrugged calmly.

“We have a lot to celebrate, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” the prince joked uncomfortably, “like how Chichi’s gonna hold me singlehandedly responsible for her lack of grandchildren?”

“Well,” Gohan considered it as he stood up and rounded the blanket, offering one glass to Trunks before settling down next to him. “If you think she’s scary, you should’ve seen the way Vegeta was looking at me the last time we talked.”

He watched Trunks for a reaction but the teen’s smile was fading as he traced lines in the sand with the heel of one shoe.

“What’s wrong?” Gohan inquired. “Are you really worried about it?”

“No.”

He coaxed the other with a nudge of his elbow. “What is it, then?”

“Nothing,” Trunks insisted, shifting away.

He was avoiding eye contact now and the older demi sat up straighter, turning to face him with the intent to remind him of their promise not to hold anything back. But now that Gohan looked closer he could see a faint pinkness coloring the other’s skin and the problem suddenly struck him.

For all of their sexual escapades, Trunks and Goten had never really been a couple. They had acted on hormones, impulse, and instinct, and outside of those parameters, Trunks wasn’t sure what to do. The normally smug Saiyan before him was entirely out of his element.

And it was downright adorable.

“You’ve never been on a date before, have you?”

“Oh, don’t be stupid.”

Gohan tried hard not to delight in the other’s predicament, but the rare show of reticence made the teen all the more alluring.

“Why don’t you drink your champagne?” he suggested. “It’ll relax you.”

Trunks looked at him as if to say he didn’t need Gohan’s pointers, but lifted the glass to his lips nonetheless. When he took a sip, Gohan tapped the bottom of the glass playfully, spilling bubbly liquid down the prince’s chin. But before he could be angry, Gohan kissed the droplets off his face and followed the sugary trail right down his neck. He could hear Trunks’s breathing slow and felt him begin to relax again almost immediately.

It seemed the teen was all too easy to placate and Gohan was thankful; considering the need would probably arise quite often.

He ran his left hand along the tense muscles beneath the boy’s jacket before sliding it off of one shoulder. Trunks shrugged out of the other sleeve and leaned backwards, reclining onto the blanket and taking Gohan with him. The elder Son allowed his hand to continue wandering, enjoying the way Trunks unwound under his fingers. And when he leaned back, stretching out on the blanket beside the younger demi, the once stormy blue eyes were already glassy.

By the time Trunks smiled up at him, more than a trace of that smugness had returned. “Cheers,” he said, emptying the remainder of the champagne over the front of his jeans.

Gohan shook his head in mock disappointment. Patience would never be one of the young prince’s virtues.

“Oh, Trunks,” he teased, trying his best to sound sympathetic as he pressed his lips to the other’s ear. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, my friend. . . but I plan on taking my time with you.”

Author’s Notes: Just a little DBZ chick lit. “Present” timeline. This story is based on an idea suggested to me by the one, the only Lord Truhan — many, many thanks! It seems to be taking a different path than I originally envisioned, but I’m having fun with it so I’m gonna run with it :) Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 16

“Black star dragon balls?” Trunks asked sardonically, crinkling his nose. “That doesn’t even sound like a real thing.”

“Yeah,” Goten piped in from across the cavernous lab. “If these things are really so powerful, then how come we’ve never heard of them before?”

“And how did someone else manage to find them if we didn’t even know where they were?”

Piccolo’s head turned from left to right and back again as the two youngest demis interrogated him. He had shown up at Mount Paozu an hour earlier and quite literally dragged Goten and his father to Capsule Corp., explaining that he had important news to share with everyone. Now the assembled group of Z-fighters stood in Bulma’s private laboratory; Goku nestled between Goten and Vegeta, Gohan leaning against a metal workbench on the opposite wall from his father, and Bulma fastidiously working, bent over some gadget right next to him.

Trunks stayed near the doorway where they’d entered, leaning back against the cinderblock wall just inside the room. He had momentarily frozen there when he walked into the lab and unexpectedly locked eyes with the very demi-Saiyan he and Gohan had been arguing about. And considering the way his last meeting with Goten ended, he decided not to venture any closer. He didn’t particularly feel like spending another perfectly good afternoon in a regeneration tank.

Goten, meanwhile, had watched the other demis’ entrance closely. Although Trunks and Gohan had walked in together, they silently separated and moved to different parts of the room immediately. The younger boy didn’t have much time to wonder what it meant since as soon as the two late arrivals showed up, Piccolo started in on his explanation.

Though it wasn’t going over very well.

“Who was it, anyway, Piccolo?”

“Yeah, I haven’t heard of any new threats on this planet. So did a couple of kids get to them? Don’t you have any security up there?”

“Where was Mr. Popo when all this happened?”

“What did they wish for?”

“Look!” the Namek shot back, bad memories of training Gotenks causing him to lose his patience even faster than usual. “None of those details are important and we don’t have time to get into them right now. The point is—.”

“The point,” the royal demi examined his nails with disinterest, “is that you should’ve seen this coming when you made something with so much destructive power. Seems pretty stupid if you ask me.”

The guardian shot a scowl at Vegeta who, in turn, grunted angrily.

Gohan and Piccolo had an entire week to come up with a plan and this was the best they could do? Black star dragon balls? Huh! He should have known better than to leave anything up to that incompetent Namek and his half-breed protégé. Not to mention Trunks was too damned smart for his own good and if he didn’t stop asking questions he’d ruin everything. Vegeta turned to him, cracking his knuckles purposefully. “One more word, Trunks. Please, I welcome the exercise.”

“So, Piccolo . . . .” Goku spoke up from alongside Vegeta, a note of excitement creeping into his voice. “You say the earth will be destroyed by negative energy in one year if the balls aren’t all brought back together?” He shifted his weight quickly from one foot to the other, giving the impression that he was about to start jumping up and down or running in place. One would think he’d just received the best news ever.

“That’s right, Goku,” Piccolo answered with a graveness that matched the Saiyan’s exuberance. “And the bad news is—.”

“You haven’t even gotten to the bad news yet?” Trunks stared at him with incredulity. In the last ten minutes, he’d been dumped in an elevator then found out the earth was in its last year of existence, and apparently, the worst was yet to come. “Can we hurry this up? I have a dinner date!” The demi-Saiyan crossed his arms over his midsection as casually as he could; aware of two sets of dark eyes settling on him. Technically it was a rain check on the drink Kim had promised him. And he didn’t think she really counted as a date. But Gohan and Goten didn’t know that and it was none of their business anyway.

“As I was saying,” Piccolo continued, ignoring the interruption, “these dragon balls don’t just scatter across the earth.” He paused dramatically, staring at each one of them in turn. “They scatter across the entire galaxy.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Trunks dropped his head back against the cinderblock wall with a dull thud and stared at the ceiling.

Bulma gasped. “Someone is in a mood!”

“And I’ve got just the remedy,” Vegeta growled.

“Hey, cheer up, you guys. That means we get to go into space!” Goku’s eyes were brightening with every revelation. “I bet you’re looking for a crew to go with you, huh, Piccolo?”

“Not exactly, Goku. I need to stay here. In case we’re unable to track down the black star balls, Dende’s going to need all the help he can get with this planet.”

“Well in that case, whaddaya say, Vegeta?” Goku jabbed the smaller Saiyan in the ribs good-naturedly. “You wanna go? Think about how many strong fighters there must be out there. The whole galaxy,” he breathed. “Wow.”

“Please,” the prince spat. “Like any of them would even pose a challenge to me. But by all means, have yourself a blast, Kakarott. Send me a postcard.”

“Aw, c’mon, Vegeta!” Goku called out behind him as the royal Saiyan strode towards the door of the lab with his nose in the air.

“Forget about him,” Piccolo ordered. “Goten, why don’t you join your father?”

Goten’s eyes widened as he glanced from Piccolo to his dad and back again. “Ah—but—I have school,” he attempted lamely. “Mom’ll kill me if I miss any more!”

“Oh, yeah.” Goku scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, a look of consternation coming over his features. “And I suppose Chichi does get kind of upset when I leave.”

“Like that ever stopped you before,” Goten grumbled under his breath.

“We don’t have time for this senseless bickering,” Piccolo admonished, emphasizing his words with a stern look at the two youngest demis. “If someone doesn’t get those dragon balls back here, and I mean now, there won’t be any school for you to go to. Or any more dinner dates either. I thought I could count on you two to help, but I guess I didn’t realize the Z-fighters had become so self-absorbed.”

The disappointment in his tone was enough to make both Trunks and Goten drop their gazes to the floor.

“Bulma,” he continued after a moment, turning to a more receptive audience, “did you say you had a ship that could make the voyage?”

“Well, of course, silly,” she said, as though it was obvious. “Capsule’s only been making them since my dad built the ship that took Goku to Namek twenty years ago! And I’ve even been able to alter the dragon radar to pick up the frequency of the black star balls!” She proudly held up a piece of equipment that vaguely resembled the dragon radar but with a number of wires hanging down to her workbench where they connected to a large metal grate.

She turned to Goten and Goku. “I just have to run a simple algorithm and then I’ll be able to integrate it with the mainframe of the computer that runs the ship’s navigational systems. All it’ll need then is to isolate the unique molecular structure of the balls and—.” She stopped abruptly as two sets of vacant brown eyes stared back at her, blinking. “And this model has a gravity training room and a full kitchen, too.” She shot them a winning smile and winked.

“Aw, man, Bulma! You’re the best. Wow, just like when I went to Namek. Those were the days.” Goku’s smile faded only slightly as he turned to his son. “Hey, we’ll have a great time, Goten.”

“Uh, but . . . .” Goten held his father’s expectant stare as he wracked his brain for another excuse, wishing that in all their years of friendship some of Trunks’s ability to think on his feet had rubbed off. “I . . . uh . . . . But Bulma!” He turned back to her. “We have no idea how to fly something like that. Maybe Gohan should go in my place.”

“Sorry, kiddo. I need your brother here. Just in case the world idoesn’t/i end in a year, I’ll need my top scientist around to keep things running.”

“Don’t worry, Goten,” Goku placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to know anything about mechanics. These ships fly themselves.”

“Actually this one won’t,” Piccolo interjected again. “Unlike the one you took to my home planet, this one has no set destination.”

The blue-haired woman nodded. “That’s right. The ship won’t set a course until it’s located the first dragon ball and that could be anywhere! Until then, you’ll need to know how to navigate. I can probably teach you, but it’ll take some time—.”

The Saiyan prince broke into a caustic laugh from where he was now standing near the door. “Kakarott’s a clown, not an astronaut. We don’t have the kind of time that lesson would take.” His laughter died off as black eyes settled on one ungrateful purple-haired princeling. Vegeta slapped a hand to the back of Trunks’s neck, causing him to take a few unplanned steps forward. “Trunks will take you.”

“Father!” the teenager hissed as he turned to look at Vegeta. But he was quickly immobilized as the hand beneath his hairline squeezed harder. How Vegeta could practically paralyze him and simultaneously cut off his air supply with one hand he had no idea. But the pureblood had quickly learned the trick when, in his mid-teens, Trunks had grown too tall to easily grab by the hair.

“If you don’t get your over-used ass on that spaceship, boy,” the Saiyan prince threatened so that only Trunks could hear, “then you’ll have me to deal with. And I promise you,” he tightened his grip along with his jaw so that he was now speaking through clenched teeth, “it won’t be a walk in the park like it was last time.”

Trunks grunted in acknowledgment. If the last time had been Vegeta’s idea of going easy on him, he didn’t want to know what the alternative was. Vegeta pushed him across the lab towards Goku. “Now, tell Kakarott how excited you are to escort him and the brat on this little trip.”

The teen cast a sidelong glance at Goten before turning his eyes back to Goku. Vegeta finally let go and Trunks rubbed his throat. “It’ll be great.”

Goku nodded in agreement then turned to the other pureblood. “He’s right, Vegeta. Sure you don’t wanna come?”

“I can’t imagine anything less appealing than being stuck in that ship with you. Forget about me, Kakarott, and spend some time with your son.” Goku blinked then looked back over his shoulder at Goten. Vegeta’s eyes came to rest on the youngest demi as well.

“And you,” he addressed Goten deliberately. “Spend some time with mine.”

***

A fucking setup! Trunks fumed as he changed into one of the sleek black space suits Bulma had provided them. That’s what this was. He was sure of it. Some kind of hair-brained scheme thought up by the others to try and get him and Goten to talk. Well, it wasn’t going to work. If they thought they were doing the boys a favor by shoving them onto a tiny pod and sending them into the depths of blackest space they were sorely mistaken. It was a recipe for disaster.

Trunks began to seriously contemplate taking his chances with Vegeta. But while it was clear that the crew of this little mission had been very purposefully chosen, there was a slim possibility that the premise was real. It sounded ridiculous, but he couldn’t be sure. And he didn’t want the destruction of the world on his shoulders all because he couldn’t get along with his ex-boyfriend.

So there he was, trading in his Armani for a space suit and mentally preparing for the worst. Trunks was happy to see that at least his mother’s fashion sense had improved since she’d designed that horrific Saiyaman costume all those years ago. He held one arm out, examining the lightweight material. It seemed to be a sort of thin, modern rubber polymer that made it look as if the three of them had been coated up to the neck in black paint.

Since the moment they had agreed to take this trip, Trunks had tried to keep Goku between himself and Goten at all times, the older Saiyan being as much of a buffer zone as he could hope for. Now he watched the pureblood pull the protective material over his torso and zip the front of the suit, stretching it taut around his well-toned muscles. The almost wet-looking black fabric matched his hair and eyes and made his pale skin seem all the more radiant by comparison. The outfit clung to every crease and curve and Trunks thought it was easy to see where the younger Sons had gotten their incredible genes.

Goku put on a matching pair of boots then stood up straight, his features taking on a purposeful expression as he picked up a helmet. “Alright, boys. Let’s go.” The other two followed him out of the hangar, albeit less enthusiastically, and into the bright noontime sun. The spherical ship that had become a Capsule Corp. trademark over the years stood ready for takeoff at the center of the complex.

Bulma approached her son. “Sweetie, the new radar is built right into the ship. Once it locates the first ball, autopilot will take over. If you have any questions, I’m just a tele-monitor away.” To Trunks’s surprise, she wiped away a stray tear from her cheek then leaned in to kiss his hair. “Be careful,” she whispered, and the teen pulled back to study his mother’s face. She knew he’d been flying ships like this since he was practically a child, helping her and Doctor Briefs test out their new designs.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he reassured her. “It’s no big deal.”

Bulma pressed her lips together, nodding, then trotted quickly away to stand with Vegeta. She clung to his arm and her tearful farewell gave the royal demi pause as he boarded the craft. He and Goten watched their friends and family members disappear from view as the hatch closed. He only noticed at the last second that Gohan did not join the send-off party.

“Wooh yeah!” Both turned around at the muffled whoop that came from inside the ship and Goten threw the small duffel bag he’d packed over his shoulder with a sigh.

“Guess that means Goku found the kitchen.”

***

It didn’t take long before the revamped radar picked up a signal from the first ball. They were nearing the edge of the solar system and, now that there were no nearby planets to create interference, the radar’s range appeared to have increased dramatically. A tiny white dot was blinking at the outer edge of the navigational screen and Trunks quickly calculated its distance. It was far away but at the high rate of speed they were travelling, they could cover a lot of ground.

“About twelve hours ‘til we reach the first ball,” he announced to no one in particular. Goten looked up from where he was sitting a short distance away. His feet were pulled up onto the seat so that his chin rested on his knees. He let go of the lock of raven hair he’d been threading between his fingers and the crescent-shaped spike bounced back to its normal position above his head. It was the only indication he gave that he heard the announcement. So far he and Trunks had managed not to speak directly to each other. The royal demi stood up and stretched his legs then turned to observe their surroundings. “Might as well make ourselves at home.”

The main level of the ship contained the cockpit and living areas, and judging from the beeline Goku made to the lift as soon as it was safe to unfasten their seatbelts, Trunks knew the kitchen was below. That would mean the gravity room was on the upper level.

He approached the first door on the left and it opened automatically to reveal a bathroom. To his surprise, the second door led to a recreation room with a flat screen T.V. on one wall with several plush-looking chairs in front of it. There was a video game console that Trunks didn’t think was even on the market yet and he smiled, thankful for his mother’s foresight. But his grin faded as he turned to face the opposite wall.

There were only two doors on the other side of the ship.

That meant . . . .

“Only two bedrooms,” he mourned, staring despondently at the wall. Trunks didn’t even realize he’d spoken aloud but the youngest Saiyan perked up at the words.

As if this entire trip wasn’t already his worst nightmare come true, now Goten learned he would be stuck with either Trunks or Goku as a bunkmate. And, truthfully, he couldn’t decide which one he’d rather room with less. He picked up his bag just as his father re-entered the main level with an armful of food he was happily munching.

“I’ll take my own,” the teenager said decisively, stalking into the nearest bedroom and dropping onto a bed. “Dad, you can bunk with Trunks. Who knows? Maybe he can make it a trifecta.”

Trunks’s mouth dropped open. The blood rushing beneath the surface of his skin made his face flush for a second. Then, forgetting his embarrassment, he pushed past the older Saiyan and approached the open door. “Oh, yeah, Goten,” he snapped, “because I’m the one who just jumps into bed with the nearest warm body.”

“Only if they’re related to me,” Goten shrugged.

“Well at least this time I’ll be expecting the complete abandonment that comes afterward!”

Goten growled through clenched teeth and Trunks balled his own fists at his sides, snarling just as loudly.

“Boys, boys!” Goku slapped a greasy palm to Trunks’s chest and held a turkey leg out at Goten. “We’re all going to have to learn to get along. We can’t let our personal differences affect this mission. Remember,” his voice softened, “there are a lot of people counting on us.”

The two stared at him defiantly for a moment before reluctantly backing down.

“You’re right, Goku.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

The pureblood patted the demi-Saiyan prince on the shoulder and flashed a smile at Goten. “Now that’s better.”

After Goku turned to leave, Trunks wasted no time making the wanker sign at Goten to which he responded by crossing his arms over his groin and mouthing “suck it”.

Eyes flashing, the royal demi stepped into the room only far enough to snatch a pillow from the empty bed near the door before heading back to the control seat.

This was going to be a long trip.

***

“You don’t mind that I took off, do you, Bulma?” Gohan asked into the mouthpiece of his cell phone as he walked across the lobby of his old apartment building. “I wanna try and get my things packed up while Trunks is gone. You know, just to avoid a scene.”

He listened to her speak as he rode up to the fourteenth floor on the elevator and she was still talking by the time he pushed open their door. He made sure to throw in a “yeah” or an “uh-huh” every few seconds so she would think he was listening. In truth, he was distracted and not even the sound of her rather shrill voice in his ear could stop his mind from wandering. The meeting with Trunks earlier had left him shaken and he was having a hard time writing off the younger demi’s words as insignificant. Nothing spoken with so much sincerity could be completely void of meaning, could it?

Gohan took a sweeping look around the main room. It was strange for him to be in the apartment again. Not even a week had passed but it somehow felt like forever since he’d been there. With Bulma’s nervous chatter like background music in his ear, he fished a capsule out of his pocket and tossed it onto the living room floor. It burst into a pile of moving boxes and, as he grabbed one off the top, Gohan realized that the cardboard mess he’d just made was the only thing out of place in the entire apartment. In fact, it was so spotless that he would have assumed Trunks had been staying with his parents. But then he remembered the teen’s own words. He had been there all week.

“Uh—I’m sorry, what?” He realized Bulma had stopped talking and was apparently expecting him to say something. “Oh, yeah, I know. I’ll be there. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Gohan made his way down the hall and into his bedroom. Right away he noticed the faded SCC tee sitting laundered and neatly folded on the edge of his bed. It tugged at his heartstrings to see it there, so deliberately placed. As if it was waiting for him to come home. Though, of course, it wasn’t the shirt that he’d deserted. Rather, it was the person who’d placed it there.

But Trunks was a smart boy. How could he not have seen this coming? Sure he was willful; and it was true that he got his way most of the time. But even Trunks would have to acknowledge the obstacles – indeed the glaring iobstacle/i – that stood in their way. And if he had ever expected Gohan to write off his brother’s feelings to be with him, then he didn’t know the eldest Son at all.

“Yeah, okay,” Gohan said as he lifted the shirt from the bed and placed it in the box he was holding. “I’ll see you then. And don’t worry, Bulma. I’m sure that we did the right thing.”

He flipped his phone closed and put it in his pocket, realizing with little joy that he was getting better at that whole lying thing.

***

Goten awoke in the middle of the night. Pitch blackness surrounded him and he was aware of the sensation that he was moving. Alarmed, he sat up in bed and pushed the covers off his legs, planting his feet on the floor. But as soon as he remembered where he was he wished he hadn’t. Glancing at the bed across from him, he found it empty. It looked like Trunks had decided to sleep with Goku after all.

Becoming aware of the pressure in his bladder, Goten realized what it was that woke him up. He stood and stumbled across the common area to the bathroom. The automatic doors made it a much less noisy trip than it might have been. Once he had relieved himself, he started back the way he came, pausing to look out the large dome-like windshield to his right. All he could see were the brightest stars for millions of miles in every direction. He had never been in space before and even in his sleepy daze the sight was breathtaking. Most people would go their whole lives without ever laying eyes on something like this.

In his awed silence, Goten soon became aware of the sound of even breathing nearby. His eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and he could see Trunks asleep on the floor near the far wall. His head was supported by the duffel bag he’d packed and the pillow he’d taken from Goten’s room was tucked snugly between his right arm and his torso. His left arm was draped across his face, half hiding it from view. It was a sight that was at once familiar and disconcerting to Goten.

Before he could think on it any longer, an automated voice echoed from the control panel informing him that they were approaching the location of the first dragon ball. “Landing in T-minus three minutes,” it stated in a soothing monotone.

Goten glanced at the sleeping demi again. Maybe Trunks would want to be awake for the landing. He didn’t need to pilot the ship, as far as Goten knew, but he sure would love this besides, Goten felt pretty bad that Trunks was sleeping on the floor. He probably shouldn’t have said what he did about Goku.

Chewing his bottom lip, the teenager approached his old friend. He knelt down alongside him but thought twice before touching him. Trunks might be startled when he woke up and Goten wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. But as if it was part of his muscle memory his hand reached out for Trunks’s shoulder without his brain’s permission. How many times had he knelt above Trunks just like this; making his friend walk him to the bathroom in the middle of the night back when Capsule’s high and sprawling hallways had seemed impossibly scary?

Goten squeezed lightly. “Trunks,” he whispered. “Hey, Trunks, wake up.” The royal demi took a loud breath and groaned as he shifted his weight on the floor. His hand came down on top of Goten’s.

“Hmm . . .” he murmured in his sleep, putting a small amount of pressure on the fingers. “Gohan?”

The youngest Son pulled his hand away as though it had been burned. The sudden movement brought Trunks around and he pushed himself up on one arm, blinking drowsily. “What?” he asked, apparently oblivious to the offense he’d just committed. “What is it?” There was a note of irritation in his voice.

Goten stood up, wiping his hand on his pants where Trunks had touched it and turned with a huff toward his bedroom. He was surprised when a bright red light illuminated the cabin.

“Warning, warning.” The voice was louder now, and no longer soothing. “Landing sequence malfunction. Landing sequence failed to initiate.”

Goten spun back in the direction of the voice. He saw Trunks jump to his feet and approach the control panel. Several parts of it were blinking and it didn’t look like it could mean anything good. The Capsule heir ducked under the control panel and resurfaced with what looked like a phone book. Goten quickly realized, however, as Trunks began flipping through it and pressing buttons on the console, that it was an instruction manual. He seemed to be running through some sort of a checklist. But whatever he was doing didn’t quiet the female voice that now blared warnings at them in rapid succession.

“Landing gear failure,” she informed them and the royal demi swore, fisting one hand in his hair. The landing gear was the least of his problems! He couldn’t even get the ship to decelerate. Trunks had tried overriding the autopilot but it wouldn’t recognize any of his commands and they were still barreling through space at full speed.

“Trunks?” Goten inched closer to the other boy. “What’s happening?”

“Go get your dad, Goten.” Trunks kept his voice as calm as possible. “This is going to be a rough landing.”

“’Kay.” With that he scurried off. When the older Saiyan came out of his room, rubbing his eyes and yawning, Trunks barked at him.

“Get in your seat and strap in!”

Both Sons did as directed. But the royal demi doubted how much buckling up would help any of them. At the rate the ship was heading towards the rapidly growing profile of the planet, there would be nothing left of it when it hit the surface.

“Whoa, Trunks, what’s going on?” a more alert Goku asked.

“I don’t get it,” the teen admitted as he ran through the override sequence yet again. There were multiple fail-safes built into every Capsule ship. For nothing to work, for the computer to fail to respond to any of his commands seemed almost impossible. It was more than just a simple manufacturing flaw. System after backup system would have to fail. How unlucky could they possibly be?

Abandoning the manual, he began to think through their alternatives. They could blow up the planet. But what if it was inhabited? And in case he didn’t manage to fix the ship, they couldn’t just blow up every planet that got in their way until the damn thing ran out of fuel.

“Trunks.” Goten’s tone was slightly frantic. The youngest Son sat strapped in to the chair next to the control seat which was glaringly empty. They were close enough to the planet now that he could see what looked like vast forests covering the surface of the brownish landmass. The ship began to shake as it entered the atmosphere.

“Trunks, quit it now.” Goku chimed in with an identical plea. “We’re going to have to brace ourselves.”

But there was one last thing that might work and the teen pulled up on the steering column with all his strength, ignoring his shipmate’s entreaties. Since he didn’t seem to be able to slow them down, he figured if he could change the ship’s course, they might at least have a chance. Skimming the surface of the planet would doubtless be better than smashing directly into it.

The teen kept his eyes on the console and the rapidly approaching ground. He could see that the surface was made up of a red-brown sort of mud. The forests were full of tall, twisted trees not at all like the ones on Earth. They were leafless and looked dead. He realized that at the speed they were travelling, there was no way the ship could pull up in time to avoid impact. And Capsule ships, though based on the Saiyan model, weren’t meant to slam into the faces of planets like an asteroid on a collision course. Whatever element it was that made Saiyan pods able to withstand that kind of pressure did not exist on Earth. That’s why a Capsule ship’s landing system was supposed to be state of the art.

“Trunks!” Goten screamed his name this time, but his voice just barely overcame the rattling of the ship’s parts, doing their best to hold together despite the atmospheric onslaught. The Capsule heir made a mental note to Final Flash the asshole who had assembled this piece of junk if he ever made it back to Earth. Then he turned to Goten, locking onto him with his eyes in the midst of the clamor. The younger demi’s fearful stare turned to one of surprise as Trunks lunged at him, wrapped his arms around Goten’s chair, closed his eyes, and gathered as much energy as he possibly could.

***

Goten looked at the sky. The millions of stars he had been admiring twinkled above him like so many white lights on a black canopy. They were even brighter here than they were on a clear night at Mount Pouzu. He felt inexplicably tired and closed his eyes to go back to sleep, but the pain in his left arm wouldn’t let him. Moaning, he rolled over to alleviate the unnatural angle at which it was bent and found himself face down in chalky dirt. Choking on the dust, he sat up and glanced to the left and right. All he could see for miles was reddish brown earth.

No, wait. Not Earth. This was the alien planet they’d crashed into. There had been an accident. And not far away on the ground lay an unmoving pile of black and purple.

“Trunks!” The teenager dashed across the dry ground before falling to his knees near the other demi. “Trunks! Wake up,” he begged, gathering the unconscious boy’s upper half in his arms and shaking him as violently as his own injury would allow. At first the lilac head only rolled back and forth unresponsively. But finally, to the youngest Son’s great relief, cloudy blue eyes blinked open.

“Goten?” Trunks’s eyes grow clearer as he looked around, struggling to remember what had happened. Suddenly he turned to Goten and grabbed both of his arms, as if trying to reassure himself the other boy was real. Goten winced at the contact.

“It worked,” he exclaimed. “The shield—it worked! We’re okay!” Goten nodded but he didn’t share Trunks’s enthusiasm. They had made it through the crash landing in one piece, but that was only the beginning of their problems. Over Trunks’s shoulder he could see the wreckage of the ship and there was hardly anything left of it. Raising his gaze, he realized they were in the middle of an enormous crater.

Trunks’s eyes followed his and the same realizations began to dawn on him. To his surprise, though, he realized they were having no trouble breathing. By some astronomical coincidence, they had landed on a planet with an atmosphere similar to their own. He turned to Goten to voice the observation, but now that the two boys faced each other, he could feel Goten’s breath on his skin. The younger Son was still holding onto him but let go abruptly when he realized how close they were.

Both pushed themselves to their feet.

“What kind of place is this?” Goten wondered, looking up into the sky again. They couldn’t see much else from the bottom of the hole they were in.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Trunks had already started climbing the steep wall that led to the surface. He pulled himself over the lip of the crater and planted two feet on the planet’s dusty crust. It was dark at the moment, but the place likely had a sun because there were things growing there. The bizarre, leafless trees he had seen on their approach twined together to make a surprisingly dense forest off to his right. There was no grass anywhere and the whole planet seemed to consist of dry dirt.

Besides Goten, who had just joined him on the surface, there wasn’t another living soul around. It was eerily silent except for the wind whistling through the nearby trees and the sizzling sound of steel cooling at the bottom of the crater.

“Hey, Trunks.” The younger boy did a slow three-sixty. “Where’s my dad?”

The teen prince gasped. In his relief at surviving the crash, he had completely forgotten that there were supposed to be three in their party. He joined his friend in scanning the area with his eyes. Then, with a feeling of dread, he followed Goten as the younger boy floated back down towards the wreckage. They hovered above the twisted metal that had once been their transport and looked for any sign that the older Saiyan was among the debris.

“He’s . . . not here.” Trunks’s tone was relieved but the revelation only left him more confused.

In a flash of light, his companion disappeared into the sky to gain a better vantage point. “Dad!” he yelled from high above. “Dad, where are you?” But Goten knew better than to expect an answer. There were no signs of life in this place and he couldn’t sense his father at all. Not even faintly.

He touched down next to Trunks at the edge of the dead forest. “I—I don’t understand,” the younger teen said, squinting as he peered into the trees. “He should be here with us.”

“Well, maybe . . . .” Trunks avoided Goten’s searching eyes as a disturbing thought occurred to him.

“What is it?”

“Well, I—.” He paused, not quite knowing what to say. Goku was the strongest person he knew in the entire universe. It had never occurred to him that he might need any help. “You see, I . . . I only shielded the two of us.”

“You . . . .” Goten blinked. “What?”

“I couldn’t make it any bigger or it wouldn’t have been strong enough to protect us!”

The younger demi looked pale as his eyes darted involuntarily to the nearby hole in the ground. There was still smoke pouring out of it.

“Dad!” he shouted desperately, taking off at a run towards the ship again.

“Goten, wait!” Trunks caught up to him quickly, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s waist from behind and stopping him in his tracks. “Wait,” he repeated more forcefully. He was quite sure that Goku wasn’t in that crater and if he was, well . . . . This was no time to let Goten get hysterical.

“Let go of me!” The other twisted and struggled and Trunks was forced to squeeze him tighter to stop him from flailing.

“Calm down.” The voice was at once soothing and authoritative and Goten momentarily quieted. “He probably IT’d somewhere.” Gohan had learned how to teleport in relation to other power levels rather than directly to them. If he could do it, then surely Goku could, too.

“He probably disintegrated!” Goten offered his own hypothesis.

“Don’t say that. Your dad is stronger than both of us put together. If we survived, he did, too.”

Goten raised his power enough to break free from Trunks’s grasp then spun to face him. “We only survived because of you. Why didn’t you shield him?”

The royal demi tried to keep his cool but it was hard not to get defensive when Goten practically accused him of killing Goku. “I told you I couldn’t make it that big. I could only help one of you—.”

“Why didn’t you choose him then?” Goten demanded, grabbing for the front of the other boy’s space suit. Trunks just didn’t make sense to him sometimes. If he’d have gone for Goku instead, then everyone would be happier. The universe would still have its hero and Trunks’s dream of a world without Goten would come true. The younger Son struggled to catch the slippery material between his fingers and Trunks kept him at bay with a forearm pressed to his chest. “If you could only save one of us,” Goten spat, “why would you even bother with me!?”

“Be-cause.” Trunks gritted his teeth, pushing back harder against the other. The sounds of their struggle echoed in the dark forest.

“Because why, Trunks?” Goten mocked the older demi. “You’d trade with Mirai to be rid of me. You said so yourself.”

“I know what I said!” Goten’s back hit the tree behind him.

“So you had your chance,” he panted, dropping his head against the bark but still holding Trunks’s gaze. “Why not take it if you hate me so much.”

“I don’t hate you, you stupid ass!” Trunks shouted in his face. “I—.”

He stopped abruptly, eyes flashing in the dark. “Shit,” he swore, and the hand that wasn’t pinning Goten to the tree smashed into the wood near his head.

“You what?” the younger boy challenged hopelessly. There was a time when he would have feared a hurtful answer, but after so many weeks of fighting, he only felt numb. And if they were going to die here on this god-forsaken planet, they might as well just get it off their chests.

“I love you, you goddamn idiot!” Trunks threw his arms out to the sides. He turned away from the shocked look on Goten’s face and scowled at the cracked and dusty landscape. “Don’t look so surprised. You fucking well know I do.”

On the contrary, it was the one answer the younger demi hadn’t been expecting. Not after all of the things the teen prince had said and done to him. Even before they’d parted ways, he often felt more like one of Trunks’s possessions than his closest friend. Goten took a shuddering breath. “And just how would I know that, Trunks?”

The Capsule heir stared across the landscape for a long time. The bright stars in this planet’s midnight sky illuminated half of his face and left the other half shrouded in shadow. “You hurt me,” he said finally, accentuating each syllable so that Goten might comprehend the severity of his transgression. “You hurt me in ways I never thought you could.”

“Trunks—.”

“Wait. I’m not finished.”

He turned to face Goten again and when he next spoke, his tone didn’t have such a hard edge. Gone was the cold, apathetic exterior Goten had grown so used to.

“You can’t imagine what it was like, those first few days without you.” Trunks shook his head when it looked like the younger boy was going to protest. “No. You have no idea. You don’t know what I went through and you can’t possibly know what your brother went through to help me.”

Goten stared at him mutely now, his wide eyes blinking as he took in the words.

“But it did force me to take a good look at myself. And in the end, I eventually came to understand why it was that you left. But it didn’t make it any easier to deal with the fact that you were gone.”

Trunks looked at the ground and his bangs fell in front of his eyes. He lifted one hand to push them off his face.

“You and me never talked about what was going on between us, Goten. Hell, we never talked to anyone about it.” Trunks shrugged remorsefully. “I guess I can’t really blame you for being confused. I know I treated you like a doormat most of the time and yet acted like I was doing you a big favor. Not to mention . . . . Well, we were just kids when everything started.”

Both were silent and Goten wasn’t sure how long he listened to the whistling of the wind before Trunks continued. “Sometimes I think we shouldn’t have let it go so far, ya know? Because it was always going to come to this.” He looked up to glance at their surroundings. Of course he couldn’t have predicted they’d end up having this conversation here on some forgotten planet. But he was sure that, from those first few experimental caresses, the only way it could have ended was in flames.

“To the extent that it complicated everything, Goten, I’m sorry that it happened. And if I could go back and do things differently, I would. Because I did love you. And despite everything that’s happened, I always will. That’s why I saved you. Okay?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head, embarrassed at his own display of emotion. “Who’d’ve guessed it, huh? I always prided myself on being the stronger one.”

But Goten, too, had to bite his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. He wanted to tell Trunks about everything he had learned, as well, in the weeks without him. How close he had come to drowning and that – if anything – instead of finding the answers he’d been seeking, in leaving he had lost a vital part of himself.

He wanted to say that he was sorry. But most of all, he just wanted his best friend back. Because, despite his antagonistic behavior, inside the teen was aching to let go of the grudges they’d been holding. Perhaps the most important thing he had learned was that the burden of prolonged separation was the worst pain either could inflict on the other.

He was nowhere near as good as Trunks at expressing those kinds of things. Lucky that the royal demi could read him like a book, anyway.

At long last, Goten gave in to the magnetic pull between them and embraced his old friend. “I missed you,” he exhaled forcefully as his chest was crushed against the other boy’s. Goten thought he might suffocate Trunks if he squeezed him any harder. But he could feel Trunks’s nails digging into his back as he fisted the thin fabric of the space suit. The lavender-haired demi was shaking and Goten imagined the same waves of relief that were crashing over him were the likely cause. He tightened his grip and it was only then that he again became aware of the aching in his shoulder. Ignoring it, he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want this moment to end.

But he could feel Trunks withdrawing from the embrace and after a moment he grudgingly let go.

“What’s wrong with it?” the older teen inquired, collecting himself.

“I dunno,” Goten admitted, reaching up to massage the injured appendage. “It just hurts.”

Trunks gave him a knowing look and began pulling the zipper down on Goten’s space suit. He peeled back the fabric only far enough to see his shoulder. The exposed skin was bruised and red in comparison to the milky whiteness of his chest.

“It’s only dislocated, you baby.” This was practically a daily injury when one lived with Vegeta. The young prince slid one hand down the back of Goten’s suit to his shoulder blade. He pressed the front of his chest with the other.

“Ow,” Goten complained after they heard a loud pop.

“Good as new.”

“Thanks.”

Trunks withdrew his hand from the younger boy’s suit and zipped it up again.

“You’re welcome.”

Their lips met before Trunks really knew what was happening. For a moment it felt like they were back in his bedroom again, as though nothing that had happened these past few weeks was real. But he noticed with surprise that this kiss felt different. It wasn’t poisoned with expectations, demands, or judgment. It wasn’t tainted by the taste of tears like so many of their intimate moments had been over the years. Trunks realized it wasn’t really like their last kiss at all.

No, it was more like the first one.

Back when things had been simple. And this time, Trunks thought, it’d be better to keep them that way.

Goten reached up to touch his cheek and the two separated. Without having to say anything, he knew the younger boy had come to the same conclusion. Trunks wanted a relationship, and not just kids’ stuff. It wasn’t enough for him anymore and, quite honestly, it hadn’t been for awhile. He wanted a commitment and it wasn’t something that Goten could give. Maybe the other boy had been able to sense it weeks ago, even before Trunks had known it himself.

Goten smiled and his whole face brightened. That was the smile that Trunks had fallen in love with. How ironic that he had seen it so rarely since then. He caught his best friend’s hand in his own.

“So, how did the search for ‘Goten’ ever turn out, anyway? Was the real you hiding somewhere under Tiffany’s clothes as you had suspected?”

“Shut up,” Goten blushed, embarrassed at his own naiveté in retrospect. “No, he wasn’t. And you’d never believe the stuff that was under there, Trunks.” He lowered his voice considerably, as if anyone could hear them. “You have no idea what I had to deal with!”

The royal demi laughed in earnest then. “You know who’s gonna be sorry to hear that?” He raised one eyebrow. “Our mutual friend, Kim. She totally wants your cock.” Trunks jumped out of the way as Goten swung at him and the two quickly disentangled. “I’m serious, Goten!”

The younger teen put a hand behind his head. “She’s great, ya know? But I think I’m gonna stay single for awhile. I mean . . . I’m just getting out of an eighteen-year relationship with this really high-maintenance guy.” Now it was Trunks’s turn to jab his friend in the ribs. “Anyway, I don’t wanna jump into anything new.”

“It’s a good idea.” Trunks’s smile slowly faded. His tone was unconvincing as he kicked up some dirt with the toe of his boot. “It’s about time we give the single life a try, right?”

“Ah! But—.” Goten tilted his head, uncomprehending. “But what about Gohan?”

“Oh,” Trunks waved his hand with practiced nonchalance. “It’s not gonna work out.”

“Why not?”

“Cuz he told me so, okay?” Trunks couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. He turned away from his friend when he noticed the other staring at him discerningly. “And the five minutes it took him to tell me that were the most he’s spoken to me all week. So, believe me, he made it pretty clear that he’s not interested.”

“You mean you guys aren’t still living together?”

“Not even close.” Trunks made a face. “I have no idea where he’s been. In fact, I figured he was back at Mount Paozu.” Goten shook his head in the negative. “Look, whatever. It’s no big deal, okay? So just drop it.”

“Hmm . . . .” Goten chewed on his thumb nail. “’Kay,” he acquiesced finally.

“So . . . you’re not mad then?” The Capsule heir pushed a few unruly strands of hair behind his ear while he waited for Goten’s answer.

“Well, if you really cared about him,” the younger Son reasoned, “then it’s not so easy to be angry anymore. I mean, how can I fault you for loving Gohan? I love him, too.”

The royal demi realized his father was right about this family. They didn’t think the way other people did. It was one of the things that made them so utterly remarkable.

Well, that and their fantastic glutes.

Trunks took his friend’s hand again. “I guess we’d better figure out how we’re gonna get off this rock, huh?” He stared at the landscape over Goten’s shoulder as he went over their limited options in his head.

“I wish my Dad was here. He’d know what to do.” The younger boy sighed and Trunks focused his eyes on him with concern. It had been a long time since he’d heard Goten refer to Goku with affection, not to mention wistfulness. “The last time we talked, Trunks, I said some things . . . .”

Goten squeezed his eyes shut and when he didn’t go on, the royal demi pulled him close again and pinned his friend’s tired head to his shoulder.

“I just don’t wanna lose him again,” Goten admitted.

Trunks petted his jet-black hair and with every stroke, the soft spikes bounced up to tickle his cheek. Considering it was something he never thought he’d feel again, each fleck was like a gift for which he was grateful. It was funny how near-death experiences could change everything so quickly, and he couldn’t help but think back to the story Vegeta told him about Mirai.

“You’ll get another chance to tell him how you feel, Go-chan, I promise. My father says it’s never too late to make up for your mistakes. And do you know what?” he whispered, gazing up at the stars above them. “After today, I know for sure that it’s true.”