Welcome to DBZ Saiyan Garden

Drawing the thick tar tasting smoke deep into his lungs, Trunks held the ashy cigarette gently between his teeth to exhale the sweet tobacco flavour as he slipped another button through its form-fitting hole. Dende-sama, how he didn't want to go this damn convention...members of Capsule Corporation's esteemed departments of idea and development were not the kind of people that he particularly wanted to indulge tonight. At least it's semi-formal, the demi-Saiyan thought, tucking his pale blue button up into the hem of his cool charcoal grey slacks. Taking another lingering drag, feeling the airy sensation that came with the calming of his nerves, the blessedly light feeling of placid thoughtless, Trunks threaded his black leather-woven belt through the loops in his pants.

Goten loved him in this outfit...Goten who would be there tonight. There because I asked him to be...there because we thought it a nice change of pace to hire a band for the normally stiff gathering of employees. Dende, Goten... The elder demi-Saiyan still wasn't sure how the hell he was going to cope all night long with the entrancing soundtrack of his lover's eloquent voice. Cursing fluently, Trunks expertly dodged the thick round byproduct of his forgotten cigarette as it disintegrated, attempting a sneak sabotage on his classy outfit.

"Fuck..." taking the filter in his thumb and forefinger, Trunks smashed it into the remains of its previous pack mates in the tray on the bureau. Sighing heavily, the young prince regarded his pale figure in the ornate mirror. He had tried to conceal the dark sooty smudges under his tired eyes, but the makeup hadn't covered the defeated look in his pale orbs of blue glass. Swallowing hard, he fought the desire to cry, to scream...He thought that going over to see Goten the other day would have made things better, but the other demi-Saiyan seemed to have abandoned the will or desire to care. It was frightening to see his carefree lover so distraught. And to know that it was his fault...He should have taken Gohan's advice and given him more time...but he just couldn't stand the not knowing...

"I thought I told you not to smoke in this house." Trunks' diluted blue eyes rose to gaze at his father's mirror image as it approached, shaking his head at the worn jeans, the simple burgundy turtleneck. The boy knew his father hated these events...he supposed he should be grateful the man was dressed at all.

"Sorry, Papa," he murmured, setting down the lighter he had unconsciously retrieved from the linen depths of his pocket and running a hand through hair still damp from his shower.

"You look like shit, boy," Vegeta remarked gruffly, turning his son with one hand on his shoulder. Trunks looked blankly down at his father, allowing the man to adjust his skewed collar, brushing the lint off his starched shirt. Furrowing his brow, the younger man tried to embrace the new relationship with his father by asking him a question that had been itching at his mind since the moment he'd seen the elder Son kiss the Saiyan prince.

"Papa..." the man's slender fingers paused in their amendment, glittering ebony eyes locking onto his own. When the Saiyan didn't respond, Trunks found the courage to continue. "How-how did you and Gohan-san...well..." Blushing, suddenly warm in the thin buttoned shirt, Trunks took a step backward, feeling blindly with one hand to draw the chair behind him forward and settle himself in to look up at his father.

"How did I end up fucking Kakarott's eldest? That what you meant to say?"

"Well, yeah..." the fire in his cheeks spread to consume his throat and upper chest. "I mean, Gohan said you'd been together about a year now...that you," Trunks quirked an inquisitive lavender brow, "courted him?" Vegeta's dark eyes widened for a nanosecond before they were suitably covered by his regular kick-your-ass stare.

"So? What of it?" Trunks held up a hand in playful defense, sensing his father's discomfort as the man crossed his arms, fingers biting into the hard muscle of each opposite bicep.

"Nothing, Papa..." The Saiyan prince's eyes narrowed further as his offspring adopted that smirk that was his by hereditary right. The man growled, turning his head sharply to the side, attempting to downplay the flush that snaked up the back of his neck, washing his face in a brilliant scarlet announcement that confirmed the demi-Saiyan's disbelieving assumption. "Wow...what the hell brought that on, Papa? I mean, you did love Mama...right?"

The younger man was impressed by his father's immaculate shift in personality as he suddenly found himself standing, staring down into wrathful pools of inky darkness.

"Don't you ever question my love for your mother, boy." He jerked the material in his fist for emphasis and a weak whimper escaped the boy before he could quench it.

"I-I..."

"I don't care for your apologies--you've had to lower yourself enough due to your own stupidity." The Saiyan prince released his son to drop heavily into the wooden chair, one of the youth's pale hands grasping at the back as he sat sideways, looking upward with wide, frightened eyes.

"Hn. That clever bitch predicated I'd end up with one of those damn Sons years ago. She used to taunt me with it--I told her we lived longer...Saiyans." Vegeta shook his head with a scowl. "You're not the only one who misses her, boy. But I got on with my life. I suggest you do the same or you're never going to get the kid back." Trunks swallowed his father's words, running a trembling hand over his face. Dende, he knew his father cared...but this...he'd never question the man's devotion again. And he's right...I've let myself get so caught up in Mama's memory that I've neglected Goten...

"Dammit, boy, don't cry. Just fix it." Hardening his immediate resolve with a quick dip into his shattered pride, Trunks nodded decisively.

"I want to, Papa...but I don't know how." He knew he sounded pretty damn pathetic and he was frankly surprised when he wasn't berated for it.

"Heh, I'll tell you what to do, boy." Blue crystal orbs latched onto his father's stern visage, and he cocked his pale purple head with a questioning frown. His father, helping him--HIS father? Leaning one arm across the cluttered surface of the dresser, the demi-Saiyan habitually reached for his discarded pack of cigarettes, tapping it against the cherry wood. This was bizarre--his father was actually offering him advice about his love life. With Goten. He never would have thought...'I don't think you give him enough credit'...

Goten, you were right...you knew and you tried to tell me...I'm so sorry I didn't see it before...

"How?" The Saiyan prince shifted, condescending brow drawing down further toward his nose.

"Public humiliation, boy. It's the only way to get them back."

~*~*~*~
Goten moved to help his drummer lift the heavy piece of black speaker equipment out of the back of the yellow moving truck out of habit. Grimacing and inhaling sharply, his heavier end teetered, the lacerations on his palms sparking new pain to flare up his forearms. Strong hands slipped beneath, catching the expensive item before it hit the asphalt.

"Thanks--" His glazed eyes followed the pressed cuff of the creamed coloured dress shirt, the patterned silk vest of gold-bordered beige.

"Goten?" The younger demi-Saiyan glanced up quickly from his memorization of his older brother's classic scholarly attire.

"Thanks, Gohan." Hunching his shoulders against the sudden breeze that brought with it the thick scent of rain, Goten slid his bandaged hands up his forearms to clutch at his elbows, allowing his brother to easily manage his burden.

"Where do you want this?" He couldn't help the chuckle of amusement from surfacing as the demi-Saiyan lifted the speaker effortlessly from the band member, the human's eyes widening with typical shock.

"Over there's fine, niichan." Gohan flashed him a simple Son smile, dark, affectionate eyes crinkling at the edges behind his silver spectacles. It suddenly dawned on the demi-Saiyan--his brother wasn't getting any younger...those may have been laugh lines around his mouth, but the wrinkles by his eyes told of a harsh childhood. Gohan didn't like to talk about it, but his father had given Goten some idea as to what his brother had been through in his life. It wasn't hard to see why Vegeta and the demi-Saiyan were together...they both harboured complexities too vast to be understood by those who hadn't experienced it.

Licking his lips against the sudden drop in temperature, Goten followed the taller figure of his sibling, squinting his eyes to adjust to the soft yellow lighting within the building.

"Here?" Gohan indicated the stage with jerk of his head. He was the only Saiyan Goten knew that could make his hair look even remotely civilized. Even Trunks--no. He wasn't going to think tonight. He was here to sing, to do his job and leave. This had nothing to do with his lover.

"Yeah, that's fine..." The speaker was placed carefully at his direction and Goten met his brother's dark, intelligent eyes with a soft smile. "I'm ok, Gohan. I know you came to check up on me, 'tousan." A light chuckle graced his ears with its delicate rhythm.

"Yeah, well, I didn't raise an idiot." Goten leaned into the arm that wound around his tense shoulders. Resting his head on the warm chest, he fleeting savoured the comforting scent of his older brother. This was the only place he felt safe anymore...since...Dende-sama, I have to make it through this...I wonder where he is, if I'll see him...The thought twisted his insides into tiny bows of fear. Could he handle it, if he saw him?

"He's with Vegeta," the man spoke quietly, squeezing the joint of his shoulder.

"You know I hate it when you do that." Goten punched playfully at Gohan's muscled abdomen, dually impressed by the hard, chiseled body housed under the contrasting silken vest. He'd starting taking his training seriously again since he and Vegeta had paired up. "How is our bastard prince?"

Gohan's body heat increased against him and the older man coughed, unconsciously occupying himself with straightening Goten's collar. Yeah, you may be my brother, but you're my father too, niichan...

"He's...fine. We're...doing well." Goten snorted, arching a brow and glaring up at his brother mockingly.

"Who are you, Captain Kirk?"

"Hn. Baka." The shorter man laughed outright, turning in the crook of his brother's arm.

"Baka? Well, Gohan-sama, where'd all that higher education go to?" Gohan granted him a crooked grin before removing his arm to push up his glasses.

"Straight to hell, little brother..." Goten arched a dark brow at his tight brother's nonchalant comment. Vegeta was apparently just the influence his stiff older brother needed to relax. He had never known Gohan to swear--for the longest time he wondered if his brother had conveniently forgotten to read that part of the dictionary. "What are you going to sing tonight?" Goten focused on his sibling's inquisitively dark eyes, the sheen of thin glass reflecting his small image back to himself.

"Eh, just something I wrote a few days ago..." The demi-Saiyan glanced downward quickly, digging the toe of his sneaker into the standard blue of the hotel carpet. He hardly remembered penning the lyrics, his sliced fingers picking out the chords until they bled crimson on his guitar. He wondered if they would ever heal...it shouldn't've taken this long...

"Oi! Goten! Little help here!" The voice of his bass guitarist carried through the entrance to the stage and the demi-Saiyan gave his brother an apologetic shrug before turning to attend to his duties.

"Hey, niichan..." Goten paused, eyes flickering over his shoulder, picking out the tall shadow of his brother against the light of the doorway. "It can't rain all the time."

~*~*~*~
"Here." The harmless carbonated drink in his hand was replaced by something that smelled like a mixture of turpentine and rubbing alcohol. "You're going to need this. Trust me." Trunks accepted the cool glass from his impartial father. Dende, he was sweating like he'd just fought the battle of his life. Heh, not yet. That was in a few hours.

Taking a long swallow, the demi-Saiyan summoned all of his training in etiquette not to spit the foul liquid out onto the front of his father's dark red shirt. It hit his tongue with an acidic vengeance, burning off each little taste bud that it encountered.

"What the fuck is this?" His voice wheezed--Dende, he hoped this wasn't detrimental to his throat, he was going to need that...

The Saiyan prince laughed deeply as he sipped his own beverage, whiskey by the smell and amber colouring, ice cubes rustling in a tinkling of sound against the crystal. "Does it matter? You're going to need all the help you can get." Thinking on what he was about to do, the younger man gave a curt nod and promptly downed the entire glass.

When his eyes phased back into focus, the demi-Saiyan noticed the slight alteration in lighting, the hush of the crowd that had previously sated with the artistic ability of the caterers that were commissioned by the company. Lavender brow knitting slightly, his mind adopting a somewhat hazy quality due to the liquor that seeped into his bloodstream with quickening speed, it took his mind a second too long for him to realize what the hell was going on.

And then he heard it. The deep pulsing rhythm was ground into his consciousness on every other beat, the melody infectious, making the man want to tap his foot against the floor. His eyes could barely discern the outline of the setup on the stage, the light gradually increasing to a synthetic outline of dark shapes and shadows. Dende, the one in front...that must be...

A fleeting flurry of whimsical chimes was a fitting introduction to the enchanting siren song of his lover's voice.

"I've been looking so long at these pictures of you that I almost believe that they're real..."

Trunks felt the tears spring immediately following the first velvety word sung in that rich melodic timbre that he had foolishly taken for granted. They burned, unshed in his liquid eyes as he swallowed hard, fingers gripping the sweating glass in his hand, the coolness of the water droplets a sharp sensory contrast to the flush in his face.

"I've been living so long with my pictures of you, that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel..."

"Goten..." he whispered the word longingly, light eyes devouring the somber visage of his dark haired lover as the stage lights bathed him in a compliment of soft golden illumination.

"Remembering you standing quiet in the rain as I ran to your heart to be near..."

Swallowing hard past the constricting of his throat, Trunks ran a shaking hand through his lavender hair, melting at the words that entwined itself around the interlude of constant drumbeat.

"And we kissed as the sky fell in, holding you close--how I always held close in your fear..."

"Boy's not bad." Congratulations, father, you get the understatement of the year award. Again.

"No...he's wonderful..."

"Remembering you running soft through the night--you were bigger and brighter and wider than snow...and screamed at the make-believe--screamed at the sky and you finally found all your courage to let it all go."

"I've never heard this song..." he breathed quietly, forbidden to dare speak louder than a whisper for fear of breaking the rapturous quality of Goten's voice that wound around his body in a mystical haze of dark notes and silkenly seductive words.

"Remembering you fallen into my arms crying for the death of your heart...You were stone white--so delicate lost in the cold. You were always so lost in the dark..."

"That's because he just wrote it." He hadn't felt the older demi-Saiyan return. Unable to tear his hypnotized gaze from the perfection that was his lighter half, Trunks gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Beautiful..."

"Remembering you how you used to be slow--drowned you were angels, so much more than everything. Oh hold for the last time then slip away, quietly. Open my eyes but I never see anything..." The impact of the other's emotionally laden words coaxed one of those damndable tears to trail a salty path down his flushed cheeks. Dende, Goten...I am so, so sorry...

"If only I'd thought of the right words...I could have held onto your heart..."

Goten's powerfully opulent voice rose to a crescendo, music speeding up to match his increased pace and pitch.

"If only I'd thought of the right words...I wouldn't be breaking apart all my pictures of you..."

The plushness of the hotel chair was hard beneath his rigid frame. He couldn't remember sitting down, didn't register the empty glass slipping from his limp fingers to land with a thud on the blue carpet. Dende, Goten...this wasn't your fault...it was me, I was the idiot. Not you, never you...

"Heh, you really fucked up this time, boy."

"Vegeta..."

"Hn."

Closing dark eyes against the stark radiance of the stage, Goten wrapped bandaged fingers around the slick black microphone. The instruments that framed his elegant figure quieted, allowing his soft, entrancing words to lure the audience into his singular, heart felt dilemma. Trunks could have screamed...

"Looking so long at these pictures of you, but I never hold onto your heart. Looking so long for the words to be true but always just breaking apart..."

Goten's rich tone heightened, clasping in an almost desperate fashion, brow drawn hard over his nose as though willing the image of his words from his mind. Oh, koi...

"There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to feel you deep in my heart..."

You asked so little of me...and it took me losing you to realize what I had...dammit, Goten...I am so sorry...

"There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to never feel the breaking apart...All my pictures of you."

~*~*~*~
Bowing his head, the youth on stage acknowledged the applause with classic Son humility, a gentle smile complimenting the innate blush of pleasure on his pale complexion. No matter the ravaged state of his mind, Goten still reveled in the static sound of pleasing ovation. Scratching absently at the gauzy wrappings over his hands, the demi-Saiyan flashed a pleasant smile, thankful for the glaring light of miniature suns that burned dark holes in his vision, allowing the blessed comfort of not being able to see beyond their blinding brilliance. Not allowing the man to see him.

But he knew Trunks was there; his steady ki thrummed like a second heartbeat in the back of his mind, and no matter how hard he tried, how much he lost himself in his music, it shone with a persistence that was agonizing in its familiarity. Closing his eyes against the harsh luminescence of artificial lighting, Goten tilted his head back and lost himself in the beat of the next number...

~*~*~*~
"Fuck me, boy...he's depressing the hell out of everyone here. It's all your fault, you know. Gonna get shit loads of good ideas out of these people tonight. Sweet Christ." Sighing heavily, Trunks had to agree. Each word that fell from his lover's lips was aimed directly at his heart, tearing, renting, deepening the wound. He couldn't believe that he had actually hurt his counterpart this much...

"How did we get this far apart? We used to be so close together...How did we get this far apart? I thought this love would last forever..."

"Dammit, this is going to drive me to smoke..."

"Papa..."

"Vegeta, shut the hell up." Trunks turned amazed eyes to the elder demi-Saiyan. Gohan...swearing...? And he was still standing. Was that actually a smirk on his father's face?? No verbal retaliation? Nope...his stoic parent merely flickered amused onyx eyes to his taller lover. Yup, this is it... hell has frozen over and I'm right in the middle of it...As much as he loved his lover's voice, he was silently grateful when the pointed song ended. Dende, the set had to be almost over...as he recalled, Goten never did more than five consecutively. This was what, number four of let's make the whole world know what an outrageously horrible lover the prefect president of Capsule Corp was fated to be? Oh, but koi...I understand...I deserve this...I deserve EVERYTHING that I must go through to get you back...

"Fuck me. I need a cigarette..."

~*~*~*~
The youngest Son sighed softly as he sipped at the simple glass of water placed on the stool off stage. He had the whole night; he was just warming up...but Dende, his hands hurt like hell and he still had that song--his song to sing with his own guitar accompaniment. The tips of his fingers tingled at the thought. It had taken all his Saiyan will not to allow the pain to overwhelm him while writing it, let alone play it...but he had to. It was his own therapeutic remedy to the Dende-damned week from hell. Whatever happened after this, happened. But he knew Trunks would understand his message. He just hoped this time his lover didn't fuck it up.

Wiping the glistening veil of perspiration from his brow with the back of his long sleeve flannel shirt, he proceeded to roll up the cuffs, tucking them over his elbows and unbuttoning the collar. Damn, those lights were hot...Taking another drawn out swallow, and finishing the remaining fluid with a gulp, Goten licked the refreshing water from his lips. The adrenaline rush of performing live gave him the strength he needed to aptly avoid the loathsome prospect of the breakdown that loomed just beyond his mental horizon.

Show time.

~*~*~*~
Trunks couldn't take much more of this. The juxtaposition of his lover's words versus his lover's voice was pulling him in so many damn directions...He had hurt Goten. Goten, the one person in the world that made him feel like he was worth something...Goten...

"Alright, this is our last number for this part of the evening. It's called "I'll Take the Rain." The demi-Saiyan jerked visibly at the sound of his paramour's spoken words. He hadn't heard him speak conversationally since that afternoon two days ago...the same defeatist tone still lingered on his softly murmured announcement.

His eyes were magnetically drawn to Goten's hands as they struck up the opening rhythm, the steely, sensuous sound that he associated with their tiny downtown apartment magnifying the hollow ache in his chest. Wait--his hands--

"What the hell--Why are Goten's hands bandaged?" Trunks glared accusingly at the two men beside him as though they were somehow responsible for the heinous act against his koi.

"He cut them." Gohan's tone was low with warning, a lightening bolt of protective aggression slashing downward in his ebony eyes.

"Not on purpose--"

"No...but he wasn't exactly upset about it, either." Dende, Goten cut himself? Is that what the demi-Saiyan had driven him to? And all because he was afraid of something that seemed insanely ludicrous in retrospect.

If, by some miracle I get you back I'll try my damndest not to fuck up like this again...I'm so sorry, koi...

~*~*~*~
The strings felt painful, comfortable beneath his skilled fingers as he opened with the melody that had captured his sentiment for the last week with remarkable proficiency. Sighing, embracing the familiar bliss of the music he created.

"The rain came down...the rain came down...The rain came down on me..."

Dende, he could still smell the dank musty smell of spring rain on his lover that night when everything had shattered into tiny little pieces. It haunted him, followed him...even now he was sure he could smell it...

"The wind blew strong and summer's song--It fades to memory..."

Goten bent his head forward, hot breath exhaled back toward him as it caressed the rough texture of the microphone.

"I knew you when, I loved you then...In summer's yawn, now hopeless..."

Dende...the demi-Saiyan had known Trunks forever...but it wasn't until he came back to comfort his counterpart after Bulma-san's death that they had...well...Goten had decided to voice his infatuation. They had grown up together...and then they had grown together. How he missed that...

"You laid me bare and marked me there...The promises we made..."

Goten blushed in spite of himself...Trunks had to get this reference. That passionate night in the beginning when they had made love...for the second time. The lighter demi-Saiyan had broached the topic of mating...apparently Vegeta had enough sense to tutor his son on the subject of Saiyan instinct...and bonding...You promised, Trunks...You promised me that when we were ready you would make me yours...Remember, lover...

Goten's fingers tightened around the neck of the guitar, clutching the pick between his thumb and first two fingertips with confident ease. His voice rose, swelling with emotional confinement--the vocal response to days of tearful reverie. The refrain fell expectantly from his lips, mouth forming the soft, hopeful words, issuing his plaintive challenge to the lavender haired genius he knew was part of that dark maw before him.

He welcomed the sharp jabbing aches in his hands that every strumming motion induced. Sweet pain, like the emptiness in his chest...

"The nighttime creases, summer schemes and stretches out to stay...The sun shines down, you came around. You loved the easy days..."

The simplicity of days remembered...Dende to have that again...when nothing mattered, the two were happy and there were still five more dragonballs that were not yet in their possession.

"But now the sun, the winter's come--I wanted just to say that if I hold, I'd hoped you'd fold and open up inside... inside of me..."

He launched into the chorus with a passionate upsurge of emotion, ripping through the chords that harmonized in synch with the horrendous void of desperate yearning Trunks had left when...he...

"This winter's song, I'll sing along--I've searched its still refrain. I'll walk alone, If given this, take wing, and celebrate the rain..."

~*~*~*~
Dende...it hurt...His lover's voice of unmatched perfection sliced into his heart with each fluid note, striking that place deep within him that he had thought dead with his mother. Yeah, he remembered...long summer days with Goten, lazing away the humid afternoons, listening to the boy pick out kiddie tunes on the guitar he'd gotten from Gohan on his fifteenth birthday. The evenings...the crickets that chirped a soft soothing soundtrack to their late night escapades...And he had done the single most idiotic thing he could ever possibly do. He had forgotten.

"I used to think, as birds take wing, they sing through life, so why can't we? We cling to this and claim the best--If this is what you're offering...
"I'll take the rain, I'll take the rain..."

Groaning, Trunks slid a hand through his silken hair, tucking it behind one ear. Dende, koi...I'm sorry, so sorry...I'll make it up to you, I promise...

Taking a deep breath, Trunks nearly jumped as his father's hand descended to rest on his hunched shoulder.

"You ready, boy?" Trunks gaze reluctantly up into those dark, amused eyes that were so like his own...yet so terribly different. Ah, well, either way both he and his father were about to have something in common. Nodding, he pushed himself upward, legs moving backward to thrust back the chair.

"Yeah...fuck, Papa, you sure this is going to work?" The look on his face must have betrayed his monumental uncertainty. Deep chuckling brought his attention to the taller man behind his father.

"Oh, yeah...I remember when Vegeta fucked up a piece of your mother's equipment and almost got thrown out of the house," Gohan laughed at the Saiyan's sour expression. "I helped him come up with a way to get her back--"

"Gohan..." The Saiyan growled warningly, but the elder Son only humoured him with a mirthful smirk.

"He proposed to your mother. In public. With everyone present." Vegeta was lividly red with embarrassment, turning to his lover with curt, irritated motions.

"Will you shut up!" Trunks tried not to blush as the man he once considered more proper than god kissed his father in a very unholy manner.

"C'mon Vegeta...it worked, ne?" Huffing, the man pushed out of the embrace, completely disregarded his grinning mate, turning back toward his heir with an annoyed scowl.

"Just do it, boy. You've got nothing more to lose--you've seen to that." Trembling slightly, Trunks fished the crumpled piece of computer paper out of his pocket. He noticed that the stage was now empty, Goten having ended the set for the evening and retiring to the bar for a drink. He couldn't blame him. He could really use another of whatever the hell his father had given him earlier. Dende-sama...

"Yeah. But I need a damn cigarette first."

~*~*~*~
"One of whatever you've got." Goten sighed, resting his forehead in his hands as the bartender walked across the back to fulfill his vague order. As long as it was alcoholic. And strong. What was that crap Vegeta had given him once? He swore he'd gone blind from the stuff, but it had made him feel pretty damn good...guess that was the same day he'd found out about Gohan...

"Thanks." The liquid was cold, bitterly so, but soothing to his throat. He'd been singing without real pause for little over an hour, and that last had really taken the fighting spirit right out of him. He was parched. Finishing the glass took no persuasion, placing it back over the ring of moisture that had formed and ordering another. He just wanted--needed to forget.

Shaking his head, he snorted as someone walked up onto the stage behind him, clearing their throat in the microphone-obviously inexperienced; the equipment screeched, pulling a wince from the demi-Saiyan.

The grimace only deepened as the person began to sing--to what? Oh, right...Goten chuckled into the glass he lifted to his lips. Fucking canned backup music. Where the hell had Trunks gotten this guy?

"They call me the apologist and now that I'm at peak. You know at first it really hurt, we joke about these things..."

Oh, and he was bad. Goten wasn't sure what level of hell the man's voice existed in, but in this reality it sucked. Rolling the tart fluid around on his tongue, he tried to drown the person out.

"I've skirted all my differences but now I'm facing up. I wanted to apologize for everything I was. So..."

"Heh, this isn't even their good album," the demi-Saiyan pondered, recognizing the song from one of his favourite bands. Dende, he felt sorry for the guy...the monotone quality of his voice was offensive to the ears. The man could not sing a lick.

"I'm sorry, so sorry..."

"Yeah, you should be." Goten rolled his eyes. Dende, why did people have to butcher good songs...it was sinful.

"Man, you've got to see this." The demi-Saiyan turned slightly at the words of his fellow band member. It was then he noticed exactly how quiet everything was--if it hadn't been for that awful warbling, he could have heard a damn pin drop.

"Huh...?" He looked over his shoulder at his stricken bandmate, slightly buzzed and preferring the glass that magically refilled itself every time he drained it.

Holy fucking Dende.

"T-Tr...Trunks?"

~*~*~*~
The pale haired demi-Saiyan waited for the crowd to settle down after Goten's immaculate performance. He couldn't believe he was about to do this...

"I can't believe you talked me into this, Papa."

"Hn. Talked you into it. Was that before or after you had a fucking emotional breakdown in my kitchen?"

"Leave the kid alone, Vegeta..."

"Fuck you, Gohan. Namek-damned demi-brats. So fucking emotional all the damn time...hn, bakas..." The tolerant expression on Gohan's face went from patient to wicked within seconds. Someone with glasses that thick shouldn't have looked that predatory.

"Fuck me, Vegeta? Can't you wait, or do you need your evening dose of chocolate first?"

"Shut the fuck up, button boy."

"Oh, Dende, I didn't just hear that..." Trunks shook his head in denial, rubbing his sweaty palms over the stormy grey of his slacks. Nervous and fidgeting in fear, the youngest man looked out through the curtain at the audience. Clients. Employees. People he had to see every fucking day of his life were there. With their families. Oblivious to the mockery he was about to make of himself. He hoped Goten appreciated this...

"Here, kid." Trunks glanced backward to see his father take the lit cigarette out of his mouth, handing it to his son. "Might as well use your weakness for something productive."

"Yeah, like you use chocolate when we--"

"Gohan! Dammit!!" The elder demi-Saiyan winked conspiratorially in his direction, effectively getting his father off his back. Thanks, Gohan-san...He had no idea when Gohan had gotten...well, playful. It was disturbing. About as disturbing as the blush that fired the Saiyan's cheeks, tingeing Vegeta's bronzed features with a schoolboy pink. Ignoring the parry and thrust banter behind him, Trunks swallowed his suicidal pride and walked onto the stage.

~*~*~*~
Trunks.

Was singing.

Goten blinked.

Trunks was still singing.

He winced.

Yeah. He was still singing.

Badly.

Very badly.

"Oh, Dende...fuck me...Trunks..." The youngest demi-Saiyan couldn't think beyond the sheer and total shock of the scene before him. His sexy lover, in that outfit he adored, was on stage. Singing. Oh, Dende...singing. Fuck me. He's signing! He's STILL singing! What the hell??

"Thank you for being there for me, thank you for listening, goodbye..."

Goten was on his feet in an instant, trying to remain inconspicuous as he made a mad dash for the stage. These poor people...

"I can forfeit selfishness I hope for you that you apply..."

Goten's lips parted in a brilliant smile of pure joy as he wound his way through the tables to get to the amplifier on the far right side of the stage. He cared. Trunks really cared. None of that 'I care just give me time to show it' kind of crap that he'd been living with for the last few months, but real sincerity. There was no other reason why Trunks would allow himself to be subject to this kind of humiliation.

"This happiness, this peacefulness..."

Goten paused, one hand poised above the cord that would silence his lover's prepubescent singing voice. Make him suffer...just one more minute...With a grin, Goten tugged at the black wire, freeing it from its place in the amp.

"I'm sor-" The demi-Saiyan's voice was cut short rather abruptly, his mouth continuing the last syllable dejectedly as he looked backward to the source of his interruption. "-ry..."

"Get off the fucking stage, Trunks!" Goten hissed the words through a blushing smile of giddy pleasure. "I get the point, dammit!"

The lavender prince glanced once quickly into the mass of seated people, some still holding their glass halfway to their mouth, open in pure shock. Goten could only imagine what they were thinking--how did they react to that? Their president had just made a total fool of himself. On purpose. The darker demi-Saiyan chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in months. Served him right.

Pink was a good colour for Trunks. It complimented his hair. Of course, there had only been a few times when Goten had seen that particular shade of pink on the man...and that was never in front of people.

Trunks swallowed hard, looking blankly at the audience before adopting his 'I meant to do that' glare of ultimate confidence and walking calmly off the stage.

The entire room was hushed and breathless--no goblets clinked, no chairs shifted. The oppressive curtain of silence was lifted with the disconcerting music of Vegeta's insane laughter.

~*~*~*~
"Goten, I--"

"Trunks..."

"You first." Goten leaned back against the gold gilded wallpaper of the hotel lobby, gesturing with a wrapped hand for his counterpart to continue. Inhaling deeply, he watched the demi-Saiyan run one hand up his opposite arm, fiddling with the rolled sleeves.

"I'm sorry, koi...for acting like a complete bastard. I know I don't deserve you--"

"No, you don't." The blue eyed man blinked hard before casting his watery, but determined gaze downward with a sharp nod of agreement.

"I know that, but if you just give me one more chance, I promise--" Goten suppressed a triumphant grin. There was something empowering about having the prince of Saiyans groveling at his feet. Maybe it was the mystery drink that coursed through his system, or maybe it was just the fact that he knew it was all going to be fine, one way or another.

"Trunks. Shut up." The older man bent his head, glancing upward once through a thin sheen of lavender silk.

"Sorry, Go-chan...I just wanted you to have this. Whether you...accept or reject it..." The Son's eyes widened. Trunks wasn't going to--no, wait, was he...

Oh, shit. His black eyes locked on the small box Trunks pulled from the pockets of his sensual slacks. Damn him, he knows how much I love that outfit on him...The deep sapphire velvet of the box was reflected in the black mirror of his stunned eyes. This just got stranger and fucking stranger...surely he wasn't...oh, hell...

"Here." Trunks reached for his arm, pulling it out of its crossed position and gently taking his wrist. Pale, sympathetic eyes searched his own before he looked away. Oh, right, his hands..."I'm sorry, koi...about your hands..." His gaze returned as he felt the tiny box pressed gingerly in his palm. Swallowing hard, the younger demi-Saiyan curled his fingers around the soft covering.

"Trunks, I--"

"Just open it, baka." He chewed his lower lip, uncertain eyes flickering upward. Dende, maybe those drinks weren't such a good idea. The nervousness he felt was only adding to his despicable state. No sleep, singing under hot lights, too much alcohol...

Those arms he felt so safe in surrounded him with their strength as he felt himself sway sporadically. "It's ok, koi...I've got you..." The hand that didn't hold the box fisted the front of Trunks' blue shirt, eyes staring unseeingly at his collar. He felt the man lean inward slowly, the familiar silken texture of his human hair caressed his fevered cheeks. "Open it..."

Not daring to meet his jeweled eyes, Goten brought his hand up to join the one holding his lover's clothing. Biting his lip against the irrational fear and heady apprehension that drove his knees to quake, Goten managed to get the box open.

"What the hell is this?" His confusion gave him the strength needed to gain enough of his footing to step backward and regard the other man.

"W-well, it's a variant off the original dragonball radar that Mama invented. I redesigned it," the taller man poked a finger into the box, pushing a microscopic button that caused the miniature screen to jump alive, the signature 'beep' that he remembered so well commencing again with its familiar melody as though it had never ceased.

"Trunks..." Goten was awestruck. This was better than a proposal...it showed him exactly how well the other demi-Saiyan knew him.

"I know it's not much...but I figured we could go away for awhile. Like we used to when we were kids...just us." The older man shifted anxiously at his lover's silence, arms still linked behind the Son's back. Feeling the tightness in his chest relax, Goten smiled softly in encouragement, tilting his head backward and pressing his lips chastely to those of the relieved demi-Saiyan.

"I'd love to." Resting his head against the other's finely muscled chest, Goten glanced through the glass doors leading outside.

"Heh...it finally stopped raining..."

~*~*~*~
"Ugh, I'm going to be sick." Vegeta shook his head, leaning his shoulder against the door between the almost empty lobby and the crowded room beyond.

"I think it's romantic," Gohan sighed softly, threading his arm through that of his crass lover. "I remember when you first brought me--"

"Don't say it." The demi-Saiyan grinned down at his smaller counterpart, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"Oh, surely you remember, Vegeta. They were red and--" The prince glared warningly at the other man, face turning slowly at the audacity of the other man to even mention such things in public.

"Shut. Up." Smirking, the younger man arched a dark brow behind his spectacles.

"Or what? You're going to tie me up? Again?" The prince's onyx eyes darted swiftly to the left, then to the right.

"Bakayaro! Don't say those things here, you kinky little shit." His voice hissed angrily, though the flush of remembrance on his cheeks betrayed the reason for his intense denial.

"Oh...right...you prefer chocolate..." Gohan walked seductive fingers over the deep red of his lover's turtle neck, tipping them inward to stroke the underside of the prince's chin.

"Gohan..."

"You talk too much, Vegeta." The demi-Saiyan backed the man into the corner made by the doorframe, leaning downward teasingly. The prince's growl answered his challenge, long fingers clasping at his vest and jerking him forcefully forward.

Gohan chuckled deeply down into his lover's aroused expression. "Let's go home, Vegeta...I need to fix your computer."

The prince knit his brow, the savage glint in his eye blinking out of existence.

"What the hell are you talking about, boy?"

"We need to go home...I need to UPgrade your HARDdrive..."

"You are a kinky little fucker, you know that?" Gohan moved closer, one arm moving up to place a palm on the wall by Vegeta's upturned face.

"Yeah...and you love it." The prince met his eyes with an arched brow and a ready purr.

"Let's go."

The End

Songs:
Pictures of You by The Cure
Apart by The Cure
I'll Take the Rain by REM
The Apologist by REM