Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

Dende, he was exhausted…the weary Son honestly couldn't recall when it had begun to get so late. Last time he had contemplated the hour and glanced out the window, the sky had yet possessed the impression of day. The streetlamps suitably withheld the convincing illusion, creating a timelessness that encompassed the demi-Saiyan and his older companion. He still wasn't used to that…Only a short while ago had seen him at the kitchen table, contently eating the single most satisfactory meal since---

"Oi, Gohan-kun. You going to make it? Ya look wiped…" Concluding a yawn he had fully intended to suppress, the young Son gave an eager nod.

"Hai!" The paler member of their dynamic duo slowly shook his lavender head with an indulgent chuckle.

"You kill me, Gohan-kun…" The infectious grin only proceeded to widen at the darker demi-Saiyan's tilted-head look of open perplexity.

"Nani?"

"That…" Trunks gestured idly with a slender, meticulous hand as he searched the air for the ghost of words that proved to be stubborn in coming. "That…" Another flick of fingered eloquence. "That 'hai!' you always do." Gohan's artistic ebony brow arched in continuing bewilderment as he folded his legs beneath himself on the plushness of the couch, straightening his back while his lounging counterpart looked on, amusement a sparkling glint of palest silver in his azurite eyes.

"Nani, Trunks-san? Everybody says it…" Pearly teeth flashed satin white in the caressing lamplight from the corner desk as the older teen rested his violet head in one open palm, fingertips curling over the unmarred surface of his caramel complexion.

"I know that, baka…but you have…" Again, an empty gesture failed to find the appropriate method of categorizing the boy to his verbal specifications. "A stylized way of doing everything, like nobody else I've ever talked to." Snickering in half-mast disbelief, the boy cocked his undomesticated head of spiky sable to the side, one eye of mirroring black squinched in skeptical disbelief.

"I have a stylized hai?"

"Hai!" Gohan laughed outright at Trunks' mocking attempt at mimicry, all but reduced to giggles as the violet demi-Saiyan flashed him a distinctly cheesy grin and a proud sign of uncontested victory.

"Kami-sama, Trunks-san…"

"...kun…" Pallid cheeks dashed a pale pink hue as the Son dipped his head bashfully.

"Trunks…kun…" His youthful onyx eyes raised with a reproachful flicker as a solid punch landed jovially on the muscle of his upper arm.

"Kami, Gohan-kun! Always so proper! Loosen up a bit, ne?" Shrugging with characteristic ease, rapid embarrassment caught like a cough in his throat and he was blessedly granted a moment of shelter as he covered his lips with his hand.

"Gomen nasai, Trunks-s…kun…I guess I'm just not used to talking to anyone close to my age." The bobbing motion of a lavender acquiesce in his peripheral vision enchanted his spellbound attention.

"I know how you feel, Gohan-kun…" Alerted to the plummeting descent in his lighter companion's mood, Gohan gently lay a comforting palm on the older boy's forearm that lie leisurely stretched along the back of the couch.

"Gom'nasai, Trunks-san," He ventured quietly, forgetting his earlier amendment and falling face forward once more into the Chichi conditioning. "I didn't mean…"

"Nah, s'ok, chibi…" Gohan's anxious heart released the restriction on his breath as that somber melancholia was cast aside, exhaling a mental sigh of repressed apprehension.

"But I don't want your last night here to be depressing, Trunks-san…" He fidgeted. He couldn't help it. Everyone else's happiness meant so much to him…

"It's not, kid," the relaxing teen replied with a lopsided smile, affectionately tousling raven hair that predictably invoked a relieved laugh from his younger comrade. "I'm just a little reluctant to go back."

"Well…" Gohan thoughtfully licked his lips as bright eyes lowered in consideration. "Can you stay? Everyone here likes you, Trunks." Obsidian eyes glittered with dawning excitement. "And I'm sure Bulma-san wouldn't mind if you stayed--"

"Not everyone here wants me to stay, Go-kun." The brilliant, sky-like clarity of Trunks blue eyes clouded a dusty grey as he glanced to the floor, pastel tendrils of silken hair falling forward to cover the scowl that so resembled the man he spoke so bitterly of.

"That's not true, Trunks." Gohan's small hand gripped the impressive muscle of the paler compatriot's arm with heroic conviction. "I know he cares. I mean think about it." A softening smile complimented fevered optimism as the boy leaned forward in his justification. "If Vegeta-san didn't care, he'd've blown up the planet, ne?" A skeptical raise of curtained violet forced the diminutive demi-Saiyan to hasten his persuasion.

"I mean, now that my 'tousan's---" Swallowing audibly, the Son spoke as though the words alone would make or break the teetering absolution of a threatened tomorrow. Gohan coaxed himself to continue, slicing through the man's intrusive protest with a definitive shake of his head. "Iie, it's alright, Trunks." Taking a deep breath, the half-breed managed an encouraging, though crooked smile, weighted with the actuality of his situation. "Tousan may be dead, but he'll be back." Black eyes shone with the faith and hope and need to be right. "I know he will. He always comes back…" Another quiet gesture and aversion of wavering obsidian.

A silent pause. "…you just wait…"

"You're a brave one, Gohan-kun." The boy's weak smile strengthened slightly at the praise, lifting a jerky shoulder in awkward acceptance. His downcast eyes found another unexplored shadow as the Briefs boy shifted, body interrupting the pallid consistency of unfaltering amber.

"Domo arigato, Trunks-san."

"Heh. And still so proper. Makes one wonder how your father was able to bypass that." Gnawing indecisively on his lower lip, the Son shrugged again. Fiddling fingers found an occupation with the indigo cuff that hugged his ankle.

"Wasn't around enough." A grin of remembrance flit across his youthful features. "And when he was, Okaasan was always too busy making him food to have any time to make him study." Trunks slowly shook his princely head with a subjective grin.

"I've seen your father eat, Gohan." Amusement glittered in eyes too expressive to be human. "And I've seen him fight." The laughter in his crystal blues sparkled at his smiling counterpart through a lavender veil. "I think his eating scares me more."

Nodding in avid, wholehearted agreement, the Son modified his seated position for better access to those sunset hues of palest purple and lordly lapis.

"Hai!" Slapping his forehead in recognition of his subconscious tendency, the boy gazed up shyly through disheveled ebony locks. "Gomen…"

"Too kawaii, chibi…too damn cute for your own good." Feeling the encroachment of heat rise with conquering claim to his cheeks, Gohan turned his head demurely to the side.

"Not a chibi, Trunks-kun." A heavy lull of silence followed, its monotony broken only by the occasional late night swish of tires on damp pavement that trailed off as it slowed and rounded the corner of the block.

"Gomen nasai, Gohan-kun. No you're not." Quietly somber and low, Trunks' light baritone caused the blushing boy to lift his head. "I didn't mean to imply that you are. It's just…" The amethyst Ouji exhaled gravely, tanned fingers on a hand draped in deceptive respite idly twirling the loose cotton cloth of Gohan's sleeve. "You've got a certain…" The wrist flicked. "…innocence about you, Gohan. Not like…" Deep blue, like sapphire crystal, Trunks' eyes gazed outward toward the window with a subdued sigh. "Don't lose that, Gohan-kun. Don't ever lose that."

Somewhere in West Capital a dog barked.

An upstairs light in the house across the street blinked out.

Gohan coughed.

"What was he like?" The bold youngster prompted quietly, leaning forward just enough to entice that antique blue to wink his way.

"Who?" That soft purple brow furrowed as his head turned toward his inquisitor, and the words slipped through the cracks of his reverie.

Gohan swallowed uncomfortably. He was insanely curious. But he didn't want to spark another one of the older teen's spontaneous bouts of awkward silence. In the end, the Son never had a chance.

"Me…well…your Gohan."

"My Gohan…" Trunks drew himself up with a leonine stretch, unfolding his longer arms more thoroughly across the decorative knit blanket on the back of the couch. "My Gohan was nothing like you." A reflective pause and a pursing of lips. "More like father, actually."

"Like Vegeta-san? Really?" Gohan's composed countenance distorted in disbelief. "Nani? I was like Vegeta-san?" Yeah, right, and Dende-sama was really a girl.

"He had to be," the elder boy reminisced. "With the androids around…he had to train himself. And me…" The paler demi-Saiyan locked onto the attentive Son's enrapt gaze with stalwart sincerity. "He may not have been as strong as you, Gohan-kun, or as smart, but he kept us alive."

Gohan blinked. He felt as though the man were trying, somehow, to convince him…

"Gomen-nasai, Trunks-san…"

An insect virtuoso chose that moment to rise above the symphonic din. Opening his mouth to speak, the boy was robbed of the limelight as the cricket chirped again. Trunks seemed to lose his unwarranted purpose with the interruption, breath forced evenly from his lungs as a slender hand brushed wayward lavender from his eyes.

"You sure do apologize a lot, kid."

"Gomen…" Trunks laughed warmly with a disregarding shake of his head. The Son was painted red again as the Briefs boy's toes waded through the thick shadows on the carpet.

"Knock it off, Gohan-san." Both boys stiffened as the misplaced words left the pallid prince's mouth.

Another car punctuated the absolute silence to follow. Gohan's eyes were engrossed in the couch cushions. A brief flicker of apologetic indigo never left sight of the window. Then each took their cue and stumbled on the downbeat.

"Gomen…"

"It's ok, Trunks…"

Light, tension killing laughter swallowed the cricket's second attempt at a solo career.

Broad shoulders shrugged beneath the thin black of Trunks' tank top. "Guess I slip back into it sometimes." Crimson coloured the high planes of his cheeks. Blue eyes glanced sideways with his soft, "Sorry."

"I understand, Trunks-kun." He was a Son after all. It was not his place to question why… "You miss him, don't you?"

A hopeful look; a comforting hand.

A soft murmur of assent.

Another pause…

The cricket didn't even try this time.

"I never knew my father growing up." Sour sadness saturated his softly spoken words. "Gohan-san was my sensei…but he was like a father to me, too." The young Son nodded as he studied the quiet, violet shrouded silhouette beside him.

"Hai…I miss my 'tousan too." Casting his gaze downward, the boy picked absently at the hem of his darned socks, thick onyx bangs falling in concealing locks over his saddened sable eyes.

"Is that why you haven't been sleeping, Go-kun?" Ebony orbs peered sheepishly through the heavy raven veil.

"You can tell?" He hadn't known he was being so obvious…Trunks arched a delicate brow.

"It's kinda obvious, chibi…and you reek of coffee." Gohan bobbed his head in bashful acquiesce. Guess it was harder to hide his conversion to caffeine than he'd thought.

"Hai…It's hard to sleep…" No use denying what was apparently public knowledge. "I mean, I'm used to 'tousan not being in the house 'n all, but sometimes I wake up, 'n I can hear Okaasan crying in the other room." His bowed head dipped lower with a misplaced shoulder shrug. "But when I go in to see if she's alright, she pretends nothing's wrong." The boy found a focal point in his companion as he raised his head. "But I know better, Trunks-kun. I know it's because of Otousan and the baby…"

"Nani?" Hard wrought melancholy shucked aside, surprised cerulean widened at the unexpected declaration. "Baby?" Son Gohan shone an infectious smile.

"Hai, Trunks-kun. I'm going to have a little brother." So certain…

"A brother, eh…?" Trunks' awestruck eyes regained a little of their former luster. "Sugei…I always wondered what that was like…"

"You wish you had one?" The future teen crinkled his angular nose.

"Nah, not really…" Amethyst bade adieu to his face with a light blow. "I mean, might've been nice for the company, but it just would have been one more mouth for Okaasan to feed." Periwinkle eyes sparkled in dawning realization. "Oi, Gohan-kun…you think your brother's gonna have your father's appetite?"

Silence, the pondering of such a monstrous depletion in the world's food supply making tonight's dinner seem even more of a luxury.

Black eyes only grew as the thought was politely chewed on thirty-six times, swallowed, and properly digested.

"Oi…I…dunno. I can't imagine…sugei…" Shaking his raven head free from the unsettling prospect, the Son simply shrugged. No matter the odds, they always got by. "'Kaasan managed with 'tousan. I can help her with my niichan." He pursed his lips. "Might have to get a job, but that's no problem…I'm strong enough." A sharp nod, as though well aware of the fact that four more months would make him a certifiable teenager. "And old enough."

A lavender quirk of question. "Heh, so sure it's a brother, ne, Gohan-kun?"

Mischievous eyes narrowed to uncharacteristically delighted pinpoints of knowing black. "Hai!" He leaned in conspiratorially and lowered his excited adolescent voice to a mere whisper. "I've got friends at the top…" Pointing his slim index finger heavenward, the Son lit the shadow-riddled room with a classic smile of superior glee.

"Damn, Gohan…" A whistle of admiration followed an indulgent wink at the smaller demi-Saiyan. "Save the planet, friends with god…someday you're going to make some lucky little lady pretty happy."

"Women?" Gohan's ebony eyes widened at the horrifying prospect, sitting back against the arm of the couch in severe shock, somewhat betrayed that his older and wiser friend would even suggest such a ridiculous notion. "Oi…uh…" A miniature mirror showed the future prince what a pre-teen Goku must have looked like, hand behind the head as signature as the blushing smile that adorned the darker demi-Saiyan's paler complexion. "No, Trunks-san," the twelve year old replied eventually with evident sobriety, apparently beating the hesitance of his response into something wholly chewable. "I've sworn off women." His onyx eyes slanted sideways as he justified his righteous claim with a nodding assertion. "They're nuts."

"Gohan…" Trunks' intelligence proved its worth as he hid his impending laughter in the cuff of his faded jacket. Wouldn't do to be condescending to the person that had just managed to save the entire planet from psychotic bio-technic devastation. He chose instead to state the obvious. "You're twelve."

"Hai, I know!" One finger raised to visualize his point. "But…" the boy leaned forward again to confide in his comrade. "You've met my mother, Trunks-kun! And Bulma-san…" His next words tapered off with an apologetic glance. "Gomen, Trunks, but I've known her for ages, and she hasn't exactly encouraged my…uh…" Only Sons could have an hereditary itch on the back of their neck.

"That may be true, Gohan-san," the younger demi-Saiyan shifted softly, glancing curiously at the teen, though not bothering to correct him of his formality. "But do you know any other women besides my mom and your mom?"

"Hai!" Gohan responded, enthusiastic to make his pre-teen philosophy on woman textbook quality. "I knew Krillin's old girlfriend, Marron," the Son promptly turned an interesting shade of memorable scarlet. "And his new one…" The sentence trailed as the implications were displayed in varying hues of gaudy neon. Dende-sama…he shouldn't have said anything… "Though…I don't trust her, Trunks-san…" Amendments often come too late…

"Neither do I, Gohan. Neither do I…" The boy shivered involuntarily at his lighter counterpart's dangerously hushed tone, crossing and gathering his legs tighter to his body, arms wrapped securely around the overlapping ankles. Eager to change the sensitive subject, Gohan watched the prince run an agitated hand through his fair hair.

"Are there a lot of women in the future, Trunks?" Resting his head on the platform of his knees, the younger demi-Saiyan twirled a stray string that hung limply from the hem of his socks. "Maybe I could go with you---to visit." Merry sable smiled upward. "Then neither one of us would have to worry about getting caught up in the fickleness of women."

"'Fickleness of women'?" The astounded Ouji turned a wondering hazel eye to his awesome companion. The boy would never cease to amaze the hell out of him…his father didn't even know words that complex… "Those are big words, Gohan-san…maybe you do need a vacation." He chuckled at the indignant look that flashed across his placid counterpart's expressive countenance. "Your mother seems to be working you too hard."

"Hai!" The boy agreed avidly and wholeheartedly, rocking slightly back and forth in his eagerness, exposing the flat of his feet with every motion away from the older teen. "Tell me what it's like, Trunks-kun."

Laughing despite his inherently resigned nature, Trunks smiled. He had never been able to deny Gohan anything…

"Nothing like this, Gohan-san…it's darker in the future." The frail light from the window flickered as a car passed beneath. "All the smoke from the fires…I hadn't really seen the sun in years before I came here."

"It's that dark?" the Son asked incredulously. "Even in the country? Like where I live?" He simply couldn't image a world without sunlight and summer…

"I don't know where you live, Gohan-san." Trunks tucked a rebellious strand of amethyst behind his ear. "But where I live, in the city, it's pretty dark, even in the middle of the day."

"Sugei…but didn't…Gohan," the demi-Saiyan pronounced his futurely deceased namesake with difficulty, "…ever talk about it?"

Negative toss that left the tendrils of diluted purple fanning the Capsule Corp. logo on his coat. "Gohan moved to the city to be closer to the people…in case the androids attacked."

"Oh…well…" Gohan's polite nature was ambushed as he was forced to yawn widely into the back of his hand. "You'll have to come visit me when you come back."

"I don't know if I'll be able to come back, Gohan-san…" That lovely lavender head lowered remorsefully. "I hope I can, but…"

"I know…" The adolescent gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he grimaced sympathetically. "Your mom must really miss you."

"Hai."

Quiet…calm…

But that damn cricket must have been a Son…

Because it was as good at creating awkward moments as it was in destroying them, and the symphony of its solo song gave Gohan the courage to speak to his silenced partner.

"S'ok, Trunks-kun." Typical Son optimism. "I'll still be here if you decide to come back. And if you don't, well…" The younger boy shrugged. "It's like 'tousan. I don't like that he decided to stay dead, but I know he did what he had to do."

"You're a real great kid, you know that, Gohan?" Two victorious fingers were in the air before his words were even finished, eyes squinched tight in a smile bright enough to infiltrate the dark undertone of their conversation.

"Hai!" That brought a smile to even Trunks' world-weary features.

"Sometimes you're just too much, Go-kun." Astonished ebony eyes widened for a millisecond before he modestly lowered his head, well-defined cheeks dusted a light rose. The older teen craned forward to entice his darkened counterpart to rise. "Nani? What is it, Gohan-san?"

Some god owed him a favour, and he was miraculously granted the return of his voice. "G-gomen, Trunks…" A futile gesture of a hand robbed of elegance. "I thought you called me Goku for a minute." The youngest Son slid his uncertain hands along the contour of his crossed legs, pulling them more closely to his body.

"Gomen na, Gohan-san." Trunks murmured softly, warm hand reaching to rest companionably on the boy's knee. "I guess we've both got a lot on our minds, ne?" The younger half-breed nodded slowly into his chest, face obscured by his unmanageably Saiyan mane. Striking an affectionate smile, the older demi-Saiyan ran a few slender fingers through the bangs against Gohan's forehead. "Looks like someone could use a haircut, ne?"

Blowing a shock of onyx hair out of his sullen eyes, the darker of the pair pulled his head up with acute deliberation and glanced dryly at his counterpart's wispy ponytail. "Oh, yeah. Like I'm the only one."

Glaring mockingly at his younger companion, Trunks feigned ignorance, selecting a single lavender strand and moving it to the forefront of his eyes while giving it the once over. "Yeah, yeah…smart ass." Smirking, Gohan tilted his chin obstinately upward, shaking the irritating ebony from his face.

"Rather be a smart ass than a dumb ass, Trunks-kun." Astonishment. He didn't think the boy knew anything harsher than 'darn' and 'dang'…

"Sugei…well, so…Son Gohan knows how to swear…I didn't think I'd ever live to see the day."

Gohan's unnaturally brazen confidence faltered from its ballsy perch and he lowered his eyes with a crooked grin and a blush, shrugging both shoulders woodenly. "I can swear," he mumbled to the couch cushion, which listened attentively to his every word. "I just don't 'cause Okaasan doesn't like it when I do."

"Mama's boy." Trunks taunted Gohan's more coveted playful side with a soft but solid punch to the impressive muscle of his upper arm.

"Am not." The sleepy demi-Saiyan raised defensive eyes that immediately lightened with the smirking indication of Trunks' joviality. Easing his legs onto a horizontal plane, the pre-teen stretched out the uncomfortable cramp in his calves, running both hands down to his knees as he exhaled heavily. "I'm glad you're happy again," Gohan stated quietly, scratching absently at an itch through the thin material of his pants. Seeing the playfulness fade to subtle confusion, the boy paused in his involuntary action.

"Nani? Again?" Trunks hadn't realized his moods were being monitored…

Swallowing, the Son offered up his meager explanation. "Well, yeah…I mean, after you spent all that time with Vegeta-san you didn't talk as much anymore." The darker youth fiddled mindlessly with the cuff of his pants, glancing upward with a timid expression. "Everybody noticed."

"Everybody, eh?" Lowering somber cerulean, Trunks picked absently at the fabric of Gohan's sleeve with his thumb and forefinger.

"Hai…" Gohan's obsidian gaze flickered upward uncertainly, lower lip bitten against the truthful words he was almost certain the older boy didn't want to hear. Especially with a father like his. "You…you became more like Vegeta-san."

The lavender teen stiffened visibly at the quietly commanded words, movement ceasing save the breath that hissed in through his teeth. A calming breath before speech.

One…

Two…

Kami damn his father's temper…

"You really think that, Gohan-san?" His lips were pressed tight against the question, fearing the answer that would be forth coming. As though a Son could lie. It was rule number three in their guidebook…listed right after fighting and eating…

Four…

Five…

"Hai, Trunks-san…Gomen nasai…" His boyish shoulders shrugged beneath a navy t-shirt too large for his frame. But then again…it would take time to grow into his father's old clothes… "You were…less easy to talk to…and you acted as though you were too afraid to talk to any of us." Inquisitive ebony eyes fostered the courage to rise, latching on to paler counterparts with an apologetic grimace. "What did you and your father do in the Room, Trunks-san? I spent the same amount of time in there with my 'tousan, and…well…" March on, Son… "None of us changed quite as much as you did."

Even the cricket wasn't that stupid.

The silence was virtually tyrannical, encompassing and prohibiting the penetration of the thick atmospheric drop in levity. Even the steady rise and fall of Trunks' breathing had ceased as though staunched, his dark features blanching to a chalky residual tone of ill content.

Eight…

Nine…




Choose your own adventure. Bitter or Sweet?