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6303.19 miles.

That is how far away Trunks is from Goten at this moment.

To the average person, 6303.19 miles is quite a fucking distance. To a person who can fly around the world five times in less than a minute if he tried hard enough, however, 6303.19 miles was almost a cakewalk; it probably wouldn't even take him an hour, even if he was flying at his minimum speed (which he rarely does, because slow flying is boring flying). This distance might as well be nothing. The distance was nothing.

Yet, at the same time, the distance was something.

Under normal circumstances, Goten would have figured he was overreacting. Trunks went on tons of business trips all of the time; none of this was new. Trunks had been to so many places: China, Australia, various countries in South America and Africa, Canada, Russia, and even Iceland. A few times, when the location intrigued him, Goten would fly over and stay for a day or so, mooching off of Trunks' money (not that Trunks would notice it was gone, you know, being the richest twenty-three year old in the world, and all). Goten did not do it often though, because as much as he loved stealing Trunks' money, and experiencing what each foreign location had to offer, it was not the same without actually having Trunks there experiencing it with him. Trunks barely had time for him on a regular day; so of course, there was no way Trunks would be available when he was actually working.

Goten, though, was rather skilled in the arts of entertaining himself, so the trips were not always a waste of time. But even as skilled as he was (and he was quite skilled—practice makes perfect), not even he could stand being ignored right to his face for long. Eventually, the exotic booze, and interesting new foods, and hot foreign dates would lose their appeal, and the "borrowed" money in Goten's pockets would grow stale and useless. It was at those times that he would go home, and honest to the gods, it literally could take a whole day before Trunks even noticed he was gone. As said before, it was rare when Goten would follow Trunks on his business trips. He could steal money from his brother, drink just as tasty booze, and find hot men or beautiful women to spend his days and nights with right here in Japan, all without the nagging feelings that he was being forgotten; left behind.

So yes, Trunks would leave for over a week at least every other month, and Goten would more or less keep his ass at home: annoying his brother and disappointing his mother, having fun on dates, and pretending he cared about his community college classes.

Goten remembers when they were younger—early teens—he and Trunks would talk about how they would live together right as they got out of high school. In their imaginations, Trunks would flip his mother 'the bird' when she told him to take over as the president of Capsule Corporations, and Goten would pointedly tell both of his parents to 'fuck off' as he packed his bags, simply because he was a thirteen year old punk, and they had put him in a bad mood that day.

Nine years later, Trunks was contemplating staying in the USA to 'better the company', and Goten was still sleeping in the same room he was born in. Literally.

Did you notice what was said before? I said that Trunks was contemplating staying in the USA. Staying, as in, permanently.

The conversation the boys (they were men, really, but that label always made Goten feel as if he were old... like, Gohan old) had had was almost a week ago. Goten remembered every word that was said, because he has been mulling over them ever since they were said. Honestly—he really was lying here on his futon bed, rerunning a stupid conversation in his head that never should have happened anyway. He's so pathetic sometimes.

"Goten, have you ever had a hamburger?!" Trunks had exclaimed. At the time, Goten had not been all that surprised to see Trunks' face and name flash on his cellphone. There were the occasional times when Trunks called, but the conversations were always short.

And even now, it annoys Goten to no end, that despite the fact that Trunks ignores him like he's chopped liver, he still feels a pleasant tingle when he hears his voice.

Goten had not had a hamburger. He wished that he had.

"Oh my gods, it is so delicious! Caroline, what is this place called again? She said it's called 'Red Robin'. She kind of forced me to come here, but this American shit is pretty good. This burger thing is really sloppy though and it's starting to piss me off..."

Caroline is Trunks' secretary. She's a pretty woman: short, with big brown eyes, and similarly colored hair. She was raised in Canada, but was apparently quite familiar with American culture, as Trunks had told him before he left eight days before. Goten already knew that though, because he had actually gone on a few dates with her. They had had fun, but neither of them was interested in pursuing the relationship any further. She wanted to focus on her career more, and Goten does not do serious relationships (he is far too young for any of that). Despite this, they both still obtain each other's phone numbers in their cellphones, so if they were both bored and/or needed a fix, they knew where to get it. She had once let it slip that she had a crush on Trunks. Goten was not surprised. Everybody had a crush on Trunks. He himself was not exempt.

"I thought you said American shit was disgusting and fattening?" Goten replied in amusement. Trunks had always had a problem with judging things by their cover.

"Okay, maybe it's not that bad... hold on a sec, we've got to pay the check."

Goten held on. But only for a sec, mind you.

"Okay, we are leaving now. She said she was taking me sight-seeing. I think the first stop is the Statue of Liberty. I'm excited man; I've really wanted to see this." Goten remembered Trunks saying something like that.

Goten had had a feeling that that was where their conversation would end. As was stated before, they tended to be short. "Well you better bring me a hamburger when you get back on Sunday."

"Actually." There had been shuffling in the background, and Goten had assumed Trunks was sliding into his car. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Goten was confused, so he responded: "Okay?"

"I think..." Goten did not know why Trunks took a pause until sometime later when he reran the conversation through his head. "I think I'm going to stay."

"Stay where?" Goten always had been labeled as 'slow'.

"In the US. I've been looking at apartments with Caroline this morning."

It took a second for Goten to comprehend. "You mean like, live there?"

"Yeah."

The line had been silent, because it took a moment for Goten to realize that Trunks was not going to say anything else. "Why?"

"Well, I think it would be easier. I have a lot of work that needs to be done here, and flying back and forth every day is not an option."

Goten was not getting it at the time. He still does not get it. "What's wrong with hotels?"

"Nothing... but I don't want to hop from hotel to hotel all the time. Plus I... kind of like it here."

"You've only been there a week, how can you decide you want to stay?"

"I just... I think this is where I want to be. I mean, you know I've always wanted to get out of Capsule Corp.; live abroad."

"When you said abroad, you made it seem like East City, or Pepper Town, or Nicky Town."

He heard Trunks exhale. "Well, I guess at the time that was what I meant, but now it's just... there is just so much that this place has to offer! It's a whole new fucking culture, and I just get really fucking excited and I can't help but... Nothing is decided yet, but I'm probably going to do it. My mother thinks it's a good idea, and Marron told me I should go for it."

So, Marron knew about this before him. Figures.

"Okay, go for it." Goten had no longer been in the mood to talk to him. Now, he wishes that their conversation had been cut short like always; this part of the conversation would have never happened. Goten really wishes it had never happened.

"Goten." There had been a bit of a whine in Trunks' voice: "Don't be like that."

Goten was annoyed, but had tried to hide it. "Be like what? You want me to support your decision, and that's what I'm doing."

"Well... It would be nice to have my best friend's support, but I still want to know what your opinion is."

Goten was in a poor enough mood, that he had allowed himself to say: "You do have my support; my opinion doesn't matter."

Goten knows Trunks well enough to have been able to tell that he had narrowed his blue eyes in confusion. "Yes it does. Why would you think it doesn't?"

'Why do I think it doesn't? Maybe is because I'm not your family so your absence realistically shouldn't affect me this much; you say I'm your best friend, even when this is the longest conversation we've had in over a month; you think Marron's opinion means more than mine; you've never given me a reason to believe otherwise, and ultimately, my opinion won't change a damn thing.'

He replied: "Because it doesn't."

"Yes it does. You're my best friend; of course I care what you think about all this."

'Why? You've never cared before.'

"What?" Trunks said, and it was at that moment that Goten realized that that last statement had not stayed where it rightfully belonged: in his head.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Trunks continued.

At that point, Goten had pinched the bridge of his nose hard in self-punishment. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

"I didn't mean it as anything, okay?" Goten had been aware that he was snapping, and that he sounded rather defensive—neither of which are his normal behavior. Those attributes were more common in Trunks.

"You're mad at me," Trunks stated.

'Duh, no shit.'

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are," Trunks insisted: "What did I do?"

Goten rubbed his palm hard over his forehead, which had been a bit painful when he scraped over his eyebrows. "You didn't do anything; shit!"

"Yeah you're so believable." Trunks voice had dripped with a sarcasm that even now, still nudged Goten in the wrong way. "You used to get mad at me because I 'never talked to you about my feelings' or whatever shit. Well now I'm trying to talk to you, and you're acting all bitchy with me."

"I'm not acting bitchy! If you want to move to the States, then go ahead!"

Trunks paused, and all annoyance seeped away from his voice. "So is that what you're mad about?"

Goten nearly growled, as he threw his head up in frustration. When he spoke again, he had made sure he sounded like he was speaking to a small child. "No, Trunks, that's not why I am mad."

"Then what is it, if it's not that? I just don't get why you're upset though, it's not like I really am leav-."

"It's not that!" Goten had tried not to snap, but at that moment, he could not fight it any longer. "If you want to leave so fucking bad, for whatever your fucking reason is, then go! Am I upset? Of course I'm upset! Why would I want my 'barely-a-friend' to leave? Sorry if I'm not ecstatic about your decision, but it doesn't matter either way."

"Barely-a-friend? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Of course, Trunks lingered on that.

Goten exhaled roughly, but he had figured there was no point in denying. He could not take back his words, and at the time, he had been mad enough not to care. "It means what it means."

The other end of the line was quiet for a moment. "So... are you saying we aren't friends?"

"I'm saying we are barely friends."

"Sorry, I was under the impression that we were best friends..."

'You were under false impressions'. "I don't know what we are right now, but 'best friends' definitely isn't it."

"I don't think I'm following you. Are you saying that you don't want to be friends anymore?"

"No."

"Then what the fuck are you saying?" He had heard irritation and, surprisingly, a bit of hurt in Trunks' words. That made Goten falter a bit, but it was too late to back down.

"I'm saying what I said." Goten was just trying to grate on Trunks' nerves at that point.

"Dammit, Goten, how are you just going to come out the blue and denounce our friendship like I'm supposed to know what the fuck is going on?"

Goten didn't think it was that out of the blue. Then again, Trunks is never here, so he supposed Trunks really wouldn't know.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Goten did not know how to respond to that.

"Goten, come on, I know you're still there, I can hear your fucking breathing."

"It's not like I was trying to hide." Sometimes Goten's humor could get kind of mean. I was rare though. Goten was not a mean boy.

"Goten, stop it. Please. I'm trying to fix whatever the fuck I did, and you keep blowing me off. What did I do?"

Goten had held in a long overdue sigh. Trunks obviously was not grasping anything and Goten was long done with this conversation. "You didn't do anything."

"Bullshit. You know I know you, and you wouldn't be all pissy with me for no reason."

"I am not being pissy." He had been being rather pissy. "All I did was say you should move to the US. Am I not supposed to want you too? You're really confusing me, Trunks."

"Stop it, Goten!"

"Stop what?!"

"Talking like a dick! You're obviously upset, so just tell me what the fuck it is! If you don't want to be my friend anymore, then fine, but I deserve a reason why."

Goten's anger is still there, but it's ebbing, and he could feel the inkling of panic begin to creep in. Before his anger could completely leave him, he said: "You know what; I don't have to tell you anything. I'm sure you didn't call me so we could fight, and I've been done with this conversation for at least two minutes now. We obviously aren't getting anywhere, so let's just stop alright?"

"And of course, when you don't want to finish a conversation you started, you get to be the bigger man, and call it quits?" Before Goten can respond, Trunks continues: "Whatever, Goten, if that's how you want to be then fine. I got to go."

"Whatever," Goten said like a pissed of preteen girl, even though the line had already cut dead. He was still angry enough to ignore the bit of ache in his chest.

When he disconnected the end of his line, Goten threw his phone at the headboard of his bed, and flopped roughly back onto the mattress.

That was yesterday.

Now, they've fought before. Hell, they've even fought just as badly (if not worse) before. You can't know someone your entire life without disagreeing from time to time. The circumstances, however, were completely different. When you're a child, fights can only last for so long; eventually it will settle itself, especially when in a position where you have to see the other person frequently (and when you have the opportunity to punch each other's faces in, and tell the adults you were only 'sparring'). And, well, children can only be so mad at each other. Childhood problems, Goten realized, are just that—childish.

As much as Goten hated to admit it, they were not children anymore; they were adults, and that made a difference. The way they talked to each was different. The way they responded to each other was different. Everything about this stupid fucking situation was different.

At first, Goten did not know why he was so upset. So what if Trunks moved? They could both fly; it really wasn't like Trunks was going anywhere. Then, of course, he had forced himself to stop and think. If Trunks was too busy or too tired to hang out when they lived in the same country, then how tired or busy would he be on the other side of the damn world? At least with Trunks in West City, Goten could pretend that they were still as great of friends as they used to be. He could pretend that Trunks' job was not more important to Trunks than his feelings. He could pretend that one day Trunks would open his fucking eyes and realize that Goten missed him so badly it almost hurt, and that he's been in freaking love with him for as long as he could remember.

...

Okay, not love, but something like it. That was a bit extreme.

... Or maybe love? Goten honestly never thought of it that way before. Love was not a concept that Goten truly thought was necessary in his life at the moment. No, he won't deny that he found Trunks almost dangerously sexy—who didn't? No, he won't deny that he's always wanted to find out what that tan skin tasted like, or if his lips were as soft as they looked, or what his blue eyes would look like flooded with desire, or what he would look like with his legs spread open as far as they would go, or if his moans would sound as sweet in real life as they did in his imagination. And no, he also won't deny the fact that he liked Trunks more than what friends—even best friends—should.

But too love him? Is that what this was?

Goten thinks that it would make sense. Maybe he did love Trunks; maybe that's why all this hurt so much. Goten was not as surprised by this revelation as one would think. Maybe it was just so obvious that he had known this entire time, but was too much of an idiot too really care either way. When he said he never thought about this, he had meant it.

Well it's not like it mattered either way. Trunks was still leaving; Goten had no choice but move on. He could just keep fucking around until he found someone worthy of his affections like he had thought Trunks had been (this had more or less been his original plan, after all). Maybe he actually would find someone who would not ignore him, or move as far away from him as they could possibly get. Maybe he could be happy with this person, and go back to when Trunks did not mean this much to him. Goten was always a good person, didn't he deserve to be happy?

But he wasn't sure he wanted that. What he wanted was Trunks, but no matter which angle he presented it, it simply was not an option.

Says who?

'Trunks, obviously.'

When did he say that? I must have missed it.

'He basically said it when he decided to ditch me for Red Robin hamburgers and giant green ladies. You don't ditch the person you're interested in.'

Have you met Trunks? Since when has he ever been able to admit he wanted someone, much less his best friend?

'That's stupid.'

You're stupid.

'I am not!'

Well, I'm not the one having a conversation with myself, am I?

"GAH!" Goten shouts aloud. The last thing he wanted to deal with was his brain's sorry attempt at a conscience. A conscience, that was in fact, stupid—even by Goten's standards.

Goten scrubbed his hands over his eyes, and sighed with the utmost exaggeration. Alright, so he was in love with Trunks. That does not help. If anything, this new revelation just made shit worse. He did not need painful feelings on top of losing the guy who had been one of the most important people to him the majority of his life.

'Apparently Red Robin hamburgers and giant green ladies are more important to Trunks than I am. Right, how is that not supposed to hurt? I'm over here, falling in love and shit, and he's over there sight-seeing and eating hamburgers and filing reports and all other types of useless shit that does not involve me. And he wants this to be permanent? What else could he possibly be saying aside from "fuck you, Goten"?'

That's not fair, is it?

'No, it's not fucking fair.'

Then you should do something about it.

"I should do something about it," Goten mutters to himself, as he pushes himself off the bed: "I should go over there and give him a piece of my fucking mind." Goten swung his legs over, and stood to his feet.

Briefly, he tries to find a reason to stop before he makes a fool of himself. However, his mind is too clouded, and he can't find any reason why. He was not the one at fault here—Trunks was. Trunks was the one who was being an insensitive jerk. Trunks was the one who was ignoring Goten. Trunks was the one who refused to acknowledge Goten's feelings. Trunks was the one trying to leave.

Goten could not accept that; not yet. Not while this anger he did not even know he possessed was festering inside of him. Not while his heart was raw from feelings he was never meant to feel. Not while Goten had some serious shit to get off his chest, and like it or not, Trunks was going to listen.

And honestly, if Trunks was leaving, then Goten had nothing to lose, now did he?

Hurt and angry, Goten opens his window so forcefully that he nearly breaks it. With no rational thoughts breaking through, he leaps from his windowsill. He can't tell how fast he is flying, but he is almost certain it won't take him more than a minute to reach his destination.

When Goten reaches the hotel harboring Trunks' energy, he barely slows down. He could not read the name of the American hotel, but it was not hard to tell that it was rather fancy, if the sparkling gold lighting, valet-parked cars, and extravagant pool beneath him were anything to go by.

Trunks had always been the type to waste money on comfort.

Impatience and annoyance rolls off of Goten in waves as he zooms by each window, searching for the room holding the familiar head of lavender that had been tormenting his thoughts for over two days.

He finds it. Goten settles on the small balcony, and peers through the window.

Trunks is just sitting there, leaning over his desktop, and appearing nearly tired. In his hand is his forehead, in the other: a pen, scribbling languidly over the sheets of paper in front of him. Tired blue eyes hidden behind 'reading' glasses (quotations, because Goten knows that they are obviously prescription glasses, despite whatever Trunks says) are illuminated by the desktop lamp; a red tie is lazily unraveled around his neck, and his lips are moving silently as he writes. Despite his tiredness, Trunks seems fine—certainly not concerned with something as trivial as the possible end of their lifelong friendship.

That only fuels Goten's anger more. It's not fair how Trunks can just sit there, working on his stupid reports as if nothing was wrong. It's not fair how Trunks can sit there, ignoring Goten now like he always does. It's not fair that Goten is the only one in pain.

It's. Not. Fair. At. All!

With a growl, he grabs the handle of the panel, and rips it and the window from the hinge; breaks it open, in his only effort not to shatter the glass. He tosses the window into the room, out of his way, as he registers the sound of a shout. With his enhanced vision he sees Trunks: his blue eyes wide behind his glasses, attempting to jump from his chair. He never gets the chance though, because Goten is already on him, his hands tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

They crash to the floor briefly. They roll once; twice, before Goten finds his sense of direction. Goten moves so quickly, that he barely notices the transition of him yanking Trunks to his feet, and flying forward so that the elder's back slams into the wall. Trunks still seems to be in shock, and rather horrified, but Goten does not let it deter him. The Son tightens his grip on the open flaps of Trunks' collar, and leans in so close that the tips of their noses nearly pressed. Trunks, despite his shock and loss of words, still found it in himself to blush at their proximity.

"I'm mad at you because you keep ignoring me," said Goten, with almost a growl in his voice: "You never have time for me anymore, and that's why I feel we barely constitute as friends anymore. At first I thought I was being childish, but after giving it some serious-as-shit thought, I realized that I'm not being childish, so don't you dare think that I am. I'm also mad because I'm in love with you, and if you had actually paid some fucking attention (like a real best friend) you probably would have noticed. So yeah, bottom-line is: you're an asshole, and I really should kick your ass because of it."

Goten doesn't kick his ass though (it would be rather difficult too). Instead (because Goten doesn't want to hear what Trunks has to say for himself) he kisses him; hard. So hard, that he can feel their hidden teeth bump. Trunks muffles against his lips, as his hands brace against Goten's chest. The hands push against him, and Goten pulls his lips away. He then grabs Trunks' wrists, and pins them high above his head.

If Trunks hadn't been blushing before, he definitely was now. "W-wait, Goten!"

"What?" Goten's tongue swipes against his bottom lip.

Trunks eyes were wide and almost horrified as they watched Goten's tongue. "I—Wha... What the fuck!?"

"You heard me." Goten can feel his own cheeks flush, because his original confidence and anger is fading, and he's starting to feel a bit ridiculous. He really just flew to the other side of the fucking world; burst into an American hotel window; borderline attacked Trunks; kissed him, and now has him pinned against a fucking wall. This shit is actually happening in real fucking life and gods dammit Goten is such a fucking idiot!

Well he's not going to back down, because he's already come this far, and there's no turning back from what he just started. He's already lost Trunks anyway; he might as well get this off his chest.

"You... you're in... with me?"

Goten averts his eyes, and coughs. "Uh... Yeah. I guess I kind of just... figured it out," the Son continues: "I mean, I've always liked you—you ought to have known that. But I mean, to actually love you... well yeah, this is pretty... recent."

Trunks looks at him; blinks once; twice, before admitting in a low voice: "I... didn't know you liked me."

Figures. "Yeah well, you tend to be pretty oblivious to people hitting on you..." It's kind of weird calling Trunks oblivious. If anyone was oblivious, it was generally Goten. Well, not sex-wise, he supposed. He was a bit of an expert on anything in regards to that.

Trunks's lips are moving again, grappling for something to say, but he is still lost for words. Goten figured so; Trunks never liked when the situation was out of his control, but he definitely could get shocked by blunt statements easily. This, Goten acknowledges, is a big thing to be blunt about.

Trunks' eyes are on the floor as he mutters in disbelief: "You're in love with me..." Then his eyes snap up. "Why didn't you tell me?" he exclaims.

Goten shifts uncomfortably. "I kind of just did."

Trunks, despite the situation, still found it in himself to roll his eyes. Well, at least Goten didn't completely damage Trunks. "You know I meant before!"

Goten shrugged in his effort to be nonchalant. "I didn't think it mattered."

"You didn't think it mattered? Of course it fucking matters!" Trunks looked like he wanted to add hand motions with his statement, but seemed to remember that his wrists were pinned over his head.

Trunks flushed and squirmed. "Let me go!"

Goten stares back at him, and of course, because he's Son Goten, had to add a hint of amusement in his eyes. "But I like you like this."

Trunks stammers, because Goten's face seems to be finding its way closer to his. "Goten!"

"Hmm?" Goten hums, as he rubs his face against Trunks' neck. The elder squirms and tugs on his wrists. Goten is not a complete idiot though, and his grip is not all that tight either. He knows that if Trunks genuinely wanted too, he could pull himself free just fine.

"Stop it, Goten!" Trunks exclaims, as Goten nuzzles his face again.

"Why? I think you like it," Goten responds, as he brushes a kiss against his neck.

"H-hey, hey!" Trunks' struggling increases, and yet he still hasn't broken free.

"Come on, Trunks. Are you really trying to tell me that you don't have any feelings for me at all?" Goten asks against his shoulder, completely aware that he was going out on a very big whim here. Goten honestly was not sure of what Trunks' thoughts were. Goten feels like they should have been obvious, because he's supposed to know Trunks better than he knows himself, but when said lavender-haired 'know-it-all' suddenly stops making himself present in Goten's rather exciting daily life, it's harder to process Trunks' emotions—if there were any.

Lavender-haired 'know-it-all' suddenly stops making himself present in Goten's daily life.

Goten's probably wrong, but when he thought of it that way, it was almost as if Trunks was avoiding him...

Goten holds his breath against Trunks' neck as he says: "Be honest, Trunks. Were you avoiding me on purpose?"

Trunks' eyes widen. "No! I-I don-..." he stammers. It's been a while since Goten last seen him lacking this much composure.

Goten lifts his face, until their noses are pressed together. He wonders if he ever made a face this serious in his life. "Trunks, you already know how I feel about you. You've got nothing to lose if you admit you feel the same way, right?"

"I... Goten I don't know, okay?"

"Don't know what?"

"I don't know about this! I just... feel weird around you. But no, I wasn't purposely avoiding you... I just wasn't making much an effort to see you." Trunks shook his head. "That sounds stupid."

Goten shrugged in mutual agreement, and replied: "If that's your definition of stupid."

Weird. He made Trunks feel weird (yes, Goten has acknowledged how amazingly mature Trunks' statement was, for a twenty-three year man, who also happened to be the president of the most profitable company in the world). Honestly, what else could that mean? Not that it was a traditional confession, but it spoke loud and clear that Trunks at least acknowledged that he might be interested, right? That's a major step up from the barely-a-friend stage.

If possibly, Goten pressed closer (so close that not even a sheet of paper could slide between their chests, if one was ever prompted too). He nudged his knee between Trunks' thighs, spreading the elder's legs in a way that made him seem rather vulnerable, and yet so inviting. Goten could feel the heat seeping from Trunks' groin on his leg and gods did it feel good.

Goten leaned close so his words brushed Trunks'—who was blushing from the updated position, and tightening his bound hands into fist—jaw. "What do you mean by 'weird'?"

Trunks shifted, trying to get away, but his efforts were in vain. "Come on, Goten, cut it out."

"Come on, Trunks, answer the question," Goten replied, trying to keep the mocking tone out of his voice.

Trunks huffed. "Just weird, Goten. You know what I mean; don't make me elaborate."

Goten nodded and smiled, even though Trunks couldn't see. "Well if what I think you mean is actually correct, can I at least help... persuade you into a less vague verbal answer?"

"You don't mean like have—"

"Maybe something like that," was Goten's murmured reply. The Son was not really expecting a second reply, evident by him pressing a kiss against Trunks' neck. Trunks jumps in surprise, but Goten does not let that deter him, as he rubs kisses all over the sensitive skin. He can feel heat pooling in his crotch from the proximity alone, but it only intensifies from the small shifts and fidgets and warmth of Trunks groin against his thigh. Gods did it feel good, and he was barely touching him!

When Goten sticks his tongue out, he feels Trunks shudder underneath him. Satisfied with the reaction, he licks and nibbles and sucks, pulling tiny groans from the body trapped between his and the wall.

"Goten, s-stop," he hears Trunks say.

The younger pulls his lips away, but only far enough so that he could ask: "Why?"

"Because..." Trunks bites his lip, and averts his eye to the wall next to them. "We just can't... do this, Goten. You know we can't."

"No I don't," Goten said honestly. "We are both fully functioning adults"—shudder—"I love you, and I've known you my whole life. I don't see any reason why we shouldn't."

"Because, Goten, we can't just... Let's be rational about this—"

"No," Goten said, straightening, so that he could pierce Trunks with a gaze he had no choice but to meet: "No rationality or whatever other big words that you'll try to trick me with when in reality they just mean the same thing. No more thinking; just by looking over at those reports on your desk tells me that you've done quite enough of that tonight. Just go with the flow, okay?"

Trunks stared at him, completely silent aside from his breathing, and Goten took that as his cue. He leaned in so close, that speaking his next words caused their lips to brush.

"Just let me make you feel good." And then he kissed him. It was slower, much more controlled than the first kiss had been. At first, it had just been Goten's lips moving against tan ones, but Goten was patient, and didn't rush. When Goten felt Trunks' wrists tug, he released them, but instead of pushing the Son away, the freed hands fell to the nape of his pale neck, pulling him closer. Goten felt fingers curling in the bottoms of his dark hair, as Trunks' head tilted to the opposite side and moved his lips in rhythm with his.

Goten hummed, wrapping his arms underneath the crook of Trunks' arms, so his hands could tangle in lavender hair. It was soft and thin in his fingers—that was not new, because Trunks hair always felt like that. And yet, at the same time, it felt different; new, even.

It was probably because at the moment, he also had a warm tongue swimming so sweetly in his mouth, but that was only a theory. Goten does not like theories—way too science-y for his taste.

Goten reaches up, and disentangles the tan fingers from his hair. He skims his hands back around Trunks' wrists, pins them against the wall again, as he pulls his lips away. Goten kisses along Trunks' jaw; nips at ear; trails down his neck. Licking his way further down he nearly pulls back the offending fabric to get a taste of Trunks' collarbone, when he notices for the second time that night: "Wow, you're actually wearing a button-down shirt."

Trunks blinks, then arches his brow at him in annoyance, and Goten thinks it looks really cute paired with the flush that has spread over his cheeks. "So the fuck what?"

Goten stifles a chuckle. "Nothing," he says. He couldn't help but remember a conversation he had had with Pan, who claimed that the boys are always wearing button-down shirts in gay fanfiction. He had found the statement amusing. Not that Goten thinks his eleven-year old niece should be reading inappropriate stories, but he is still young enough that he feels no desire to be the "tattle-tale uncle". "Best friend uncle" is so much more fun.

"What's so funny about my shirt?" Trunks questions with narrowed brows.

Goten shrugs but his amused smile barely dims. "Just thinking about how much easier this makes my job."

"Your job?"

Goten gives him a sly smile, and replies with the utmost confidence: "To make you scream."

Before Trunks can retort, Goten rips the shirt until the first button pops off with his teeth, causing a cry of: "Hey!" to fall from the elder's lips. Goten ignores him though, and connects his lips with his tan collarbone. He nibbles and sucks, enjoying the way Trunks' body shudders against his, and the way Trunks' wrists flex in his hands. Who know Trunks would be the 'responsive' type?

Switching so that he's holding both of Trunks' wrists in one hand, he uses the free one to rip two more buttons (he just loves the sound they make as they clatter to the floor). Little smacking sounds fill his ears as he kisses along Trunks' collarbone, the skin already starting to bruise an erotic shade of red.

When Goten rips off the rest of the buttons of the shirt, and connects his lips with a nipple, receiving a moan for his efforts. Goten took that moment to contemplate the fact he actually had Trunks pinned against a wall, and was actually tasting his body. Not once during his angered flight over here, or even when he confessed his feelings full of frustration, had he anticipated this outcome (not to say that he isn't overjoyed by it, mind you). Trunks' skin tasted sweet—or at least, as sweet as skin could get—and Goten honestly could not get enough of it. He licked and kissed and sucked, and gods the reactions he was receiving! Trunks was so sensitive, and just that thought sent a spike of heat down to Goten's loins. He was careful though: made sure not to suck too hard (particularly on Trunks' nipples, which seemed to be the most tender of all); kept his teeth from scrapping to the point of pain; paid attention to Trunks' moans and body language to urge him forward or slow his pace. He did not know Trunks' body as well as he wanted to, but he would learn eventually—he was determined too, and given by Trunks' compliancy, he was confident that he would have the opportunity to do so.

Goten made his way down Trunks' body, leaving long kisses on each delicious muscle he encountered. When he reached the navel, he left wet kisses around it, and dipped his tongue in. When he sucked, his smacking noises mixed with the moans that escaped from Trunks' bitten lip in such a sweet way that Goten moaned himself, and almost did not notice that he had reached Trunks' waistline.

Goten let go of Trunks' wrist, and situated himself so that he was crouched comfortable on his knee and foot. "I'm going to suck you off, alright?" It was not really a request.

Trunks' eyes trailed down and blinked, almost as if he did not understand the statement. After a moment, his eyes cleared in recognition, and his already red cheeks flushed a bit deeper. "Alright..."

Goten smiled and popped open the button of Trunks' trousers. As he was pulling down the elastic band of the elder's underwear, he asked almost casually: "Have you ever been sucked off before?"

Goten does not see Trunks' expression, but he can tell that one of his lavender-colored brows is twitching. "Shut up, Goten."

Goten already knew the answer, but it did not hurt to have a nice reminder.

He smiles, and says to himself: "So I get to be the first." And the only, if he would have anything to say about it.

Trunks is giving him an irritated frown, but it quickly melts away as Goten pulls out the organ he had been looking for. It's hard in his hand, and he cannot help the small bout of pride he feels knowing that he is the one who caused it.

Also, he can't help but notice, that it certainly is a nice penis. Round of applause for Trunks.

Goten—never one to beat around the bush—leans in and tastes it with his tongue. After giving it a kiss and a single long lick, he does not waste any time to put it in his mouth. He wraps his lips around the top of it, and gives little bobs of his head.

He trails his eyes up when he hears Trunks' muffled groan. What a sight Trunks makes: his pants open; his kiss-bruised torso and chest exposed; his cheeks flushed bright; his eyes closed; his mouth covered by a fist. Just the image sends spikes of desire down Goten's groin, and makes him moan around the dick in his mouth. It's hard to bob his head, and strain his eyes upward to watch the object of his desires at the same time, but he manages it somehow, and adds little sucks against the tip, as he holds the base steady with his hand.

He feels Trunks' hips start to thrust against him, and he allows it. Deep-throating is not something foreign to Goten, and if he's going push Trunks to the breaking point, he will accept all the assistance he can get.

By assistance, he also means trailing his fingers to the space just beneath Trunks' balls, and massaging it.

Trunks' jerks against him and cries out (partially from surprise), followed by a hand tugging on Goten's dark hair. He pulls his lips away, and gives Trunks a questioning look, even though he's already sure what the issue is.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to..." Trunks trails off with a little pant, because no more words are needed to get his point across.

Goten smirks. "Well, we don't want that, if we are going to take this further. That is, if you're up for it."

Trunks looks at him blankly, but Goten knows him well enough to know that he's calculating the situation in his head (technically, that's against the whole "letting go" rule, but he lets it slide). It is seconds later, when Trunks shrugs almost casually, but his flushed cheeks rather defeat the purpose. "I wouldn't object to it."

Goten can't help but grin, as he stands to his feet. His hand wraps tight around Trunks' wrist, as he tugs him along behind him, ignoring the protests he's receiving. The room is big, but not that big, so it doesn't take long to reach the bed. Goten tugs on his wrist hard enough that Trunks' body spins to stand in front of him. Goten then braces his hands against his shoulders, and pushes him down onto the bed.

Trunks is dazed for a moment, as Goten moves to crawl on top of him. He pauses to pull his t-shirt off over his head, before he tugs Trunks' glasses off and tosses them to the nightstand, and braces both his hands besides Trunks' head, forcing him to lie back fully on the bed.

Goten is pleasantly surprised when he feels Trunks' hands grasp his face and pull him down into a kiss. He does not object, but focuses on pulling Trunks' pants and boxers down past his hips and thighs, until he has to pull away to tug them off completely.

Goten falls back down so he's in Trunks' face again. "Please tell me you brought lotion." Vaseline would have been better, but Goten doubted that Trunks had brought any with him, and well, Vaseline is such a long word to say when the majority of the blood that's supposed to be in your brain is supplying to your raging hard-on.

Trunks looked insulted. "Of course I brought lotion, stupid. Why the hell would I not have brought lotion? Why do you need... oh, right." Realization dawns on his face, as well as a pale pink flush. "It's, uh... it's over there. Why didn't you bring lube?"

"What makes you think I own lube?" he says as he maneuvered his body to reach the lotion bottle that resided on the bedside table.

Trunks cocked his eyebrow, and replied: "Because you're Goten. Why wouldn't you have lube?"

Goten laughed as he situated himself back into position. "Okay, you got me. I wasn't exactly coming here to have sex, and despite what you may believe, I don't just carry lube around all the time." He glanced down at the container in his hand, before giving Trunks an amused smile, and saying: "Suave?"

Trunks glares at him. "Shut up, asshole."

Goten snickers (a rather crude joke had popped into his head that involved shutting up and assholes, but he decided that it might be a bit wiser to keep it to himself), and just to piss Trunks off even more, he replies: "You're so cute when you're angry."

He does not give Trunks a chance to respond (despite the fact that it probably would have been hilarious) and kisses him again. Their lips clash and dance against each other for a moment, before Goten pulls away to kneel in between his legs. He flips open the cap of the bottle, and squirts the lotion into the palm of his hand. With his other hand he dips three of his fingers into it, and swirls the digits around until they are completely coated.

"Can you hold yourself open for me?" Goten asks.

Trunks' cheeks burn ever pinker, but he does not respond aside from a rather irritated look on his face. He still does as asked though—grabbing the underside of his knees, and pulling them up to his chest, his blue eyes looking so far down at the bed that they almost appeared closed. Despite his submissive position, his tanned body was tight with tension, and his expression indicated that he'd rather be anywhere else but here.

Goten smiles, and leans down, causing Trunks' spread knees to hook over his shoulder. "Relax."

Trunks frowns, but does not seem all too bothered by their proximity. "I am relaxed."

Goten resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I think we have different definitions of 'relaxed'." He kissed Trunks' cheek, and abruptly rubbed his slick finger against hidden furrowed skin.

Trunks jumped, his face darkening red. "Whoa—hey!"

"Yup, that's really relaxed," Goten replied, slowing his finger and smearing the lotion. Trunks shifted a bit, but he does not shy away again or tell Goten to stop, so the Son continues to rub. "Come on, you know I'll be gentle."

Trunks narrowed his brow, almost seeming to forget he had a finger rubbing against private skin that no one else has ever seen, much less touched. "Shut up, Goten, I'm not a woman."

Goten reminds him, by slipping his finger inside; the digit goes easy because of the lotion. Trunks is hot and tight with renewed tension around his finger, and it's such a stimulating feeling that Goten nearly moans. "I would hope not. Considering, you know, the penis and all."

Trunks' hands (no longer required to hold his legs open because of Goten's shoulders), lost at what to do with themselves; fall back to clench the pillow behind his head. His cheeks are burning, and his eyes are squeezed shut, as he replies: "some women have penises."

That is true. "Yeah, they also tend to be prettier than you," Goten says, as he pulls his finger back, and pushes it back in again, causing Trunks to squirm with poorly hidden embarrassment. He admits that he would have liked to watch his finger slide so deliciously through the more or less compliant body beneath his, but he thinks he's tortured Trunks enough for one night.

There was always next time.

"I'm not pretty at all, Goten," Trunks replies adamantly.

Well, maybe a little bit, but Goten thinks it is okay to keep that opinion to himself. "My point exactly. Women are pretty. Men are handsome (and on occasions) beautiful—amazingly enough, you are both. Now stop fighting me, and focus on how good this feels."

"Okay," Trunks says, nodding his head against the pillow, and releasing a haggard sigh. "Okay."

"Geez, it's like you're a virgin or something." As Goten pushes in a second finger, he continues with a grin: "Well, I guess you are in this sense."

Trunks does not reply, but his purple brow does twitch in irritation. Goten decides to not to push his luck, as he thrusts his finger. He closes his eyes—a mistake, because he has no choice but to focus on the delicious warm and stimulating tightness around his fingers. As he fits a third one in, he can't help but think how unfair it is that his fingers get to experience this, but not his cock. Of course, his cock will get to feel this eventually, but that's beside the point: Goten wants this now!

"Hey," Goten says: "I haven't hurt you yet, have I?"

Trunks shakes his head. His eyes are closed, but much more relaxed than before. "No."

"Alright, I'm going to take my fingers out now."

Trunks nods, so Goten pulls his three fingers out slowly. Once his fingers are free, Goten lifts his body a tad bit to unbuckle the button and pull down the zipper of his pants. He opens the flap, pulls his pants down a bit so they aren't in his way, and pulls out his currently necessary body part. He strokes it a couple of times, because gods he can't help it, but does eventually manage to stop himself. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a slightly crumpled condom. He rips the package, and has the plastic rolled onto him in record time. He then grabs the discarded bottle of lotion, squirts more onto his palm, and coats himself to the best of his ability. Goten leans back down, but is stopped by a firm hand on his chest.

Trunks hits him with a glare so hard that he almost winces. "Goten, if this hurts, I swear on your left testicle I'll—"

Goten hurriedly braced his hand against Trunks' mouth to halt the shudder-worthy threat. "I won't! I promised, didn't I?"

Trunks gives him such a dark smirk that Goten can't help but wonder what Vegeta's doing right now at this moment. "Just had to make sure you remembered."

Goten pulls Trunks' hips a bit closer, and grabs himself by the base. "Come on, my memory's not that bad. Can I go in?"

Trunks takes a deep breathe. "Yeah, go ahead."

Goten does not waste any time, and slips the head of himself inside. Trunks instantly falls silent, and the muscles around him clench so deliciously that Goten grits his teeth.

Goten says: "Relax. Push against me; it'll go easier."

"Push against you?"

"You know, like if you had to take a—"

"Okay, okay, I get it."

Apparently, Trunks got it quite well. Well enough that Goten did not have time to prepare, because next thing he knows, he has slipped all the way down inside.

"Woah!" Goten exclaims, bracing one of his hands against the mattress as an unidentifiable noise fell from Trunks.

"Are... are you okay?" Goten says, once he finds his voice again. It's been a while since he's had a male partner; he had almost forgotten how wonderful they felt.

"Yeah—no, wait. It... It feels weird," Trunks replies, bracing his hands against Goten's chest to keep him at bay, as if the Son really had the willpower to start moving yet.

"Take your time," Goten said, chewing on his lip so he would have something else to focus on besides the tight heat around his most intimate place. He found his eyes trailing downward. Trunks' chest rose and fell from the rough breathing out of his nose. His head was tilted away; his eyes closed, and his eyebrows drawn in concentration; his cheeks still pink from before. Goten was hit with the desire to see Trunks' head thrown back, his lavender hair flying, his eyes squeezed shut tighter, and his mouth open wide with his screaming as his body shook with a hard rhythm. Goten thinks both images are sexy. Very sexy.

Yes, Goten acknowledges that if he is to be exhibiting his awesome skills of self-control, he probably should not torture himself with such delicious thoughts.

It seemed as if his torture was to be short-lived, because Trunks chose that moment to say: "I... okay. I think I'm okay. You can, uh... move."

Goten answered by leaning down for a kiss, rolling and grinding his hips as their lips clashed. Goten heard little gasps from Trunks, but they were swallowed into his mouth quickly, as he flicked his tongue against the elder's.

When Goten broke the kiss, he lifted himself the way up onto his knees. He pushed Trunks' legs off of his shoulders by the backs of thighs, and then pushed them down until they nearly touched his tanned chest. He braced the tops of his sock-clad feet against the bedding behind him, and pumped his hips against him.

"Ah, shit," Trunks' moans rang through Goten's ears like silk, encouraging him. Goten always knew that he was good at sex (I mean, duh) but to have Trunks of all people believe so... well... it was definitely a boost to one's pride.

Only thing was, Trunks wasn't quite losing control yet. That would have to change.

Goten leaned in a bit closer. "You like that?"

"Yes," Trunks said, the open flaps of his shirt wagging against his shaking torso: "Yes."

"You want more?" Goten asked, his hair falling forward to make a spiky curtain over his eyes. "You want more, Trunks?"

"Yes." Trunks' clouded blue irises cracked open. "Yes, come on."

Goten smiled mischievously. "Think you can handle it?"

Trunks narrowed his eyes, and replied through his panting. "You think I can't?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to be too much for—"

Goten blinked in disorientation, because one minute, he is teasing a rather affronted-looking Trunks, and now, he's staring up at the ceiling. He did not know that people actually put effort into making nice patterns for their ceilings, because honestly, who the fuck cares what a ceiling looked like?

There's a face close by his, and a bit of a growl in his ear. "I'll show you what I can 'handle'."

Goten grinned. "Well by all means, go ahea—uh!"

His surprised moan was rather embarrassing, but he can't find it in himself to care, because he's got two palms pressed against his shoulders, two knees on both sides of his waist, and one sweet body bouncing so deliciously on top of his.

Goten's hands fall to cup the moving, tan thighs. Lavender hair bounces wildly on Trunks' head, and sweet moans fall from his lips as his body moves on Goten's with such a delicious mix of slight inexperience and determination. As Goten's heels dig into the bedding to thrust his hips up as well, he wonders if maybe Trunks had done this before. He was doing rather well, for supposedly never doing this before. He does not know how he feels about that, but he's having a hard time being jealous about it when there is not enough blood in his brain to properly worry about it.

"Uh—fuck, Goten." The way Trunks moaned his name had spikes of desire coursing through his blood. Really, it was type of voice that an amazing person like Goten deserved to hear again.

Wrapping his freed arm around Trunks, the younger hybrid flipped their bodies over. Trunks did not seem to mind the change however, because his legs immediately tangled around Goten's waist, and his arms wrapped themselves around Goten's shoulders. Their bodies were pressed so tightly together—chest-to-chest, and yet Goten still had the ability to rock his body up and into the one beneath his. It was rather straining to thrust this hard in this position, but the shouts of his name falling from Trunks' sweet lips were enough to make it worth it.

"Love you," Goten muttered against Trunks' jaw as he attacked it with his teeth and lips: "Love you, so fucking much."

He was rewarded with more moans, a cry of his name, and then a press of lips. Trunks was close—Goten could tell, because there was no way Trunks could be this hard rubbing against his abdomen, and not be ready to fall apart. Goten knows he himself won't last much longer, and he's rather okay with that, because finishing at relatively the same time would be rather nice.

But Trunks had to come first; only rule.

It seemed he had nothing to worry about, because the hands in his hair and on his shoulder tightened. Trunks' teeth bit down on his unoccupied shoulder, muffling his final groan as his body shuddered.

Goten lost himself in the tightening muscles, and found that his face was pressed into a pillow, muffling his groan as his orgasm rang through his body, leaving behind a tingling sensation even once he was done.

Goten lifted his head when the hand still tangled in his hair prompted him too. The kiss they shared was simple—just a quick movement of their tired lips. Goten loved in it.

Once he pulls his lips away, Goten rolls over onto his back, and stares up at the intriguing ceiling ahead of him. The room would be completely silent, if it was not for their slowing heavy breaths. Goten does not say anything, because he's sated and happy, and he knows that the next move has to be Trunks'. Goten did his part in his 'persuasion' and now it's up to Trunks to voice his decision. Goten isn't worried though—Trunks' feelings on the matter have already made themselves quite obvious.

"Stop smiling like that," he hears Trunks say. He glances over, and sees Trunks watching him with a wrinkled nose. "You look like Master Roshi when he's watching one of his videos. I'm surprised you don't have a nosebleed."

"There's a difference between watching ass and actually getting ass, so I take no offense from your statement," Goten replies as he cuddles his head against Trunks' shoulder, and wraps his arm around his middle. "And I don't think I had enough blood in my head to get a nosebleed, if you're catching my drift," he adds.

Trunks groaned. "That wasn't necessary."

Goten wanted to point out that Trunks was exactly the same way, but he's almost certain Trunks will think that fact is unnecessary as well.

Instead, he chuckles, and tightens his hold on the tan body beneath his, almost as if he were afraid to let go. And in a way, he was. He does not need Trunks' words to know that he's still going to stay.

Goten always had a problem where when he was angry, logical thought had a hard time of breaking through. But now, when he's calm, he can see just how idiotic he could be, and he'd be ashamed, if he was not so pleased from the past fifteen minutes. His job, despite how boring it might be, was important to Trunks (maybe not more important than Goten, but still important all the same), Goten knows this. He's always known this. It's selfish of him really, to come here and practically demand that Trunks only put him first. Trunks had responsibilities (something that Goten still has yet to obtain) and it was unfair for Goten to make Trunks feel as if that was a bad thing. It was unfair to make Trunks have to pick between his desire to leave West City, and Goten. It was unfair for Trunks to have to believe that his feelings regarding their relationship (friendship or romantic) were doubted. It was unfair for Goten to make Trunks believe everything was his fault. It really wasn't Trunks' fault that they were drifting, and Goten honestly felt bad for ever making him feel that way.

He does not bring it up though, not yet. He wants to enjoy this moment for right now.

"Do you really love me?" Goten was so startled by the silence being broken, that he almost does not register the question. Goten blinks, and looks at Trunks, but his blue eyes are fixed on the ceiling, his face indifferent, as if he hadn't even spoken.

"Yeah, I do." He did.

Trunks nods, but still his face does not give away his thoughts. Goten does not press him, and more minutes pass by in silence.

Goten does not know how long the silence has stretched on by the time Trunks says: "I'm scheduled to go to Venezuela in a couple of weeks."

Goten feels his smile drop from his face, as an unpleasant feeling blooms in his chest. "Okay," he says, maybe a bit flatly.

Trunks nudges Goten off of him. He turns onto his side, so close to Goten that their noses nearly touch. The elder grabs one of his pale hands, and cradles it to his chest. "Come with me. I'll make it worth your while," he says.

Goten blinked, as a tingling feeling replaced the unpleasantness in his chest. That, he had not expected. Trunks has never really invited Goten to go with him anywhere. Sure, Goten acknowledges that they definitely just had sex ten minutes ago, so things are bound to be different with them, but still...

Was this Trunks' subtle way of consenting to... whatever the fuck they were now? Of course it was! It would make sense—bluntness was never Trunks' strong suit. He was always subtle, speaking his words in ways that you could tell they had an underlining meaning, but for the life of you, you couldn't figure out what the hell it was. Goten, unlike other people, has long since mastered Trunks' complicated ways of communication, and really, what else could he mean aside from "I like you, I like fucking you, why don't we make this a regular?"

How did Goten feel about this?

He felt pretty damn good.

The Son grinned, and raised an amused eyebrow. "You'll make it worth my while?"

"I-ah," Trunks flushes, as if he just realized the way his words sounded. "... Yeah, I will."

Goten hums with pleasure. "I think I'd like that. But if you get a room with two separate beds, I might have to hurt you."

Trunks rolled his eyes. "Well we don't want that now do we?"

Goten flashed him a cheesy smile. "Nope! You're too pretty to injure!"

Trunks glared, and with his free hand, nudged Goten roughly against the shoulder. The Son only laughed, closed his eyes, and nuzzled the tips of their noses, and action that Trunks permitted.

Then they were silent, and again, Goten basked in it. It was not often that Goten liked sitting in the quiet (how boring), but it was hard not to love one as nice as this.

When he heard Trunks clear his throat, he opened his eyes to look at him. The elder had the palest dusting of pink across his cheeks, and his blue eyes were looking down at the bedding, as he played with it between his fingers.

"Maybe, you know, later, when I move here," Trunks spoke: "if you want to come down here and... keep me company, you can if you want..."

Goten blinked, and couldn't keep the bright smile off of his face. Once again: another underling meaning.

Goten supposes he could get used to Red Robin hamburgers and giant green ladies, you know, for Trunks.

"I think I'd like that, too."

The End.