What You Need
by A'Nore     More by this Writer
Gohan is divorced from Videl and now works at Capsule Corp. He has recently been made Vice-President of Research and Development, now that Bulma has retired. Trunks and Gohan live in the Corporate High Rise, one floor away from each other.
Graphic Violence



Chapter 01
(Trunks’ POV)

Damn I hate work. OK…a quick stretch, a long slow breath, and I’m out of here.

Man, what a slow day. Slow – as in boring. Mind numbingly so. I think I fell asleep during the board meeting. Goten tells me I complain too much. He tells me to consider the alternatives. I could be like him: out of work and out of money.

He’s got a point.

Wonder what Goten’s doing tonight.

I haul my numb ass and aching back out of my office chair and with a quick wave and a smile, tell my secretary to call it a day. He gives me a ghost of a smile; you know – the type you’re never really sure you actually saw?

They do that a lot to me these days; the staff that is. They don’t hate me exactly…but nobody wants to be the first to admit it.

But then it’s my own fault; the tantrums, the missed meetings, the staff changes.

And the practical jokes. Oh, I’m not proud of them; well…some of them were pretty great…

But I’ll admit that maybe I went too far a time or two, especially with Gohan.

What can I tell you? There’s a sucker born every minute.

But…ah shit. I can’t do that. Not anymore and not to him…

I guess his ideals about decency are starting to rub off on me, even if I don’t want them to. Even knowing that he can’t stand me, I still find myself wanting to be a better person; if that’s any indication.

Most of the time, well, all right, some of the time. But I’m trying, okay? What do you expect from me?

So now all that remains between me and forty-eight hours of blissful freedom is the elevator ride and oh, great, I get to share it with Mr. High Morals himself. Wonderful.

Here’s a guy who likes to let me know just what he thinks of me at every fuckin’ opportunity. Not out loud, oh no. He has this cool look; the appearance of carefully unconcealed disgust every time he knows that I’m looking at him. I’ve never seen him look at anyone else that way; only me. It’s my own special expression, reserved just for me; designed to let me know just how much he hates me.

And maybe I deserve it. It’s probably why I don’t fire him. Even though mom would probably just rehire him; after cussing me out of course.

And fuck, he knows it.

Thing is though, I know that it’s all just a crock of bullshit. The way he acts. I just haven’t worked out how to call him on it yet. As I move into the lift and stand alongside our newest Vice-President of Research and Development, I glance at him once or twice, hoping to catch his gaze.

He glances back. He always does. He can’t help it.

And…bingo! There it is. That ‘you disgust me Trunks, but I’m too decent to ever admit it’ look.

It’s a lie. See, I’ve seen him look at me when he doesn’t know I’m watching. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

He wants me. The fucking savior of the world, holier than thou, Gohan; son of the great fighting genius – but otherwise mentally challenged idiot – Goku, wants me.

We have this weird ‘thing’ existing between us; this dynamic – for lack of a better word. There’s this…I don’t know, this ‘scent’ between us, a smell of sex and tension that we create whenever we’re near each other. It’s so thick I can taste it. I know it and I know that he knows it, too. But he won’t admit it and it’s driving me up the Kami-damned wall.

Why? Fuck knows.

Do I love him? Fuck no!

I just…want him. It’s that simple. I don’t try to justify it. If I did that every time I decided to do something I’d never get anything done. Leap in feet first, I always say.

I’ve tried to get his attention, believe it or not. Hey, I’m just being realistic here. I haven’t been attracted to anyone else in a long time and my hormones are in overdrive. I need him. Not that I’m usually that choosy. I’ve never limited myself like this before. Hell, they might as well install revolving doors to my suite.

But not anymore; I’ve lost the joy of bed-tag for the bigger thrill of tagging the top tail on the board.

I’m not getting any results so far though.

The staff calls him a cold blow and with good reason.

I’ve tried being friendly and he gives me ‘properly polite’.

I’ve tried parading the competition in front of him and he just smiles at them with pity on his face.

Fuck.

I’ve even tried baiting the cold son of a bitch, but he won’t rise.

Damn, I’d give anything to get a rise out of him. I almost snicker at the image, just a flicker of something other than cold disdain.

As the lift ascends I do my usual drill. “Gohan,” I nod to him.

He slits a glance at me through those black-framed glasses. “Mr. President.”

The way he says that, it’s an insult. Somehow he manages to infuse those two words with all the nuance of the word ‘asshole’. He doesn’t even call me by my name anymore. For Kami-damned sake, he knew me when I was still in diapers.

“Got a hot date tonight?”

He sighs tiredly. “No, I don’t plan on doing anything tonight but resting. I would suggest that to you as well. I noticed you all but fell asleep in the board meeting today. Perhaps a little more sleep and a little less socializing might be in order?”

Oh, good one Gohan. I nod, gifting him with the patented Vegeta-smirk.

His cheek twitches. He hates that smirk.

Maybe I’m using the wrong approach here. Maybe what I need to do is up the ante just a bit.

Maybe I need to be just a bit more…obvious.

I put on my best ‘poker’ face.

“Gohan?”

Another pointed glance, another sharp sigh. “Yes, Mr. President?”

Ah…there it is again. ‘Asshole’ unsaid. That makes this so much sweeter.

“Fuck me.”



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