Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

“I have to admit you did get me there, Trunks. Not bad,” Gohan relented, staring down at the hunched figure. Trunks really WAS in a great deal of pain, holding his shoulder and fighting back what gleamed in his blue eyes.

“I know it was dirty, but I couldn’t resist,” Trunks answered, drawing in great draughts of air to counteract the sharp crack of pain spreading like a wave from his right shoulder. He wondered if his arm would move for a day or more.

“True,” Gohan nodded. “I’d say it was worth a time out. We’re done for the day.”

Trunks nodded, a slight smile masking the still surging pain. This time when Gohan leaned forwards and extended a strong hand, trunks outstretched his own ivory fingers. He shivered as they touched the rough palm of Gohan’s hand, and marveled in the strength of the grip. Only a small snap of Gohan’s figure tugged both of them to their feet. More ribbons of sand fell from Trunks back and made their piles in the sand. Gohan resisted a chuckle feeling sand dropping from the back of his gi as well.

Glancing down he saw his fingers were still closed around Trunks hand. Neither questioned the contact, and he felt his role yet again shift. It was not mere protection, Gohan soberly realized as he saw the pride glowing from the youth’s face. He let go reluctantly, seeing Trunks questioning look, and pushed tendrils of the boy’s lavender hair from his face.

“I must smell pretty ripe,” Trunks joked.

“That makes two of us,” Gohan nodded, chuckling himself.

It seemed so natural to raise his hand to pat Trunks on the back, as Trunks stood closer to him. Instead of removing it after the friendly contact, Gohan’s arm rested around Trunks slender shoulders, and he felt Trunks leaning into his body as well. Around his waist, Gohan felt the curling of Trunks smaller arm and pulled the boy towards himself more tightly. The light pressure of Trunks side against his felt safe and reassuring, and necessary.

“Lunch now?” Trunks laughed, glancing up at him.

“Yes,” Gohan nodded, feeling his own stomach rumbling in unison.

That fact reminded him of their similarities, and he did not fight the warmth arising in his stomach and being. Similarly, he didn’t stop the smile twitching his angular cheeks into a grin. That same expression graced Trunks visage as well, and he realized what a relief it was to see him smiling. It was worth a few moments of self-deprecation and stupidity.

On the other hand, was it? If he didn’t push Trunks hard enough it would be his own damn fault if the boy died at the hands of the androids. Could he chance letting Trunks fight at his side when the boy wasn’t ready? Yet he had to be.

“Earth to Gohan! You call me a space cadet, remember?” Trunks nudged him, giving his hip a squeeze as they stood there in silence.

“True,” Gohan nodded.

“What’s with the one word answers? Are you pissed that tricked you?” Trunks asked, swinging out from Gohan’s arm to stand right before him. Lavender brows wrinkled in a frown and Gohan again mumbled a curse.

“No and yes. I’m more pissed at myself because I should have known better,” Gohan answered, his eyes narrowing into that stern look that caused Trunks to tense.

“Oh,” Trunks answered, not sure of what to say.

He fought the impulse to laugh and joke whenever Gohan’s face hovered between a serious frown and a reprimand. Still he tightened his grip on Trunks shoulder and said nothing as he pulled the younger man towards him. The urge to protect overpowered the urge to reprimand, and Trunks wound his arms around Gohan’s waist, sensing an automatic need for body contact.

Fingers stroking Trunks soft hair, Gohan allowed more thoughts to spin through his brain. Oddly, the words “safety word” came into his head, and Gohan frowned at himself for another dearth of such thoughts. Not because they were centered on a male object of affection, but because they were surfacing at a very inopportune time. If he showed such concern for Trunks during times such as these, how could he possibly hope to be ruthless enough to harden his training? How could a warrior balance his concern for his pupil and still be as adamant as steel?

Piccolo had done it easily enough. Yet in teaching Gohan years ago, he had learned the softness of love. It was not a weakness but strength. He could still remember cowering in fear as Piccolo had thrown himself in the path of a Saibaman’s ray. At that moment, Gohan knew that Piccolo had accepted what he had called a weakness. Love.

Love was not a weakness, Gohan reprimanded himself.

Yet why did he question it as he and Trunks glanced up at him expectantly, looking for more than just guidance at that moment? It was love that pushed Gohan to show the ruthlessness of Piccolo’s training all these days when he knew Bulma would be furious when she found out. Could he afford to be soft when any moment could be his last, and Trunks would be alone without a guide, without a mentor?

Without a loved one, Gohan mentally added as realization dawned.

By now Trunks had pressed his face into Gohan’s chest and his grip had tightened. Gohan leaned down again to pull Trunks face away and hold him at arm’s length. Held against the hard solid body of the older Half Saiyan, Trunks felt himself quivering from head to toe. He could hardly imagine what the other was now thinking, peering up at him with confidence and the surety that always preceded a training session.

Gohan’s eyes widened when he felt Trunks raise a hand of concern and touch the side of his cheek. Neither questioned what silence said. At that moment his sensei’s eyes held such pain and frustration that Trunks wished he could somehow ease it. In turn, the open look of trust and determination gleaming in those blue eyes called to Gohan. It was but a split second, but they both knew what the other was thinking.

At the same time Gohan’s fist tightened on Trunks shoulder, Trunks leaned up towards his mentor. There was something electric and tingling like ki in the moment, and he felt the darkness of concern on that troubled brow. He sought to brush his lips against Gohan’s cheek, but instead Gohan’s descending profile brushed past his. Firm lips found his soft ones, and Trunks relaxed against his mentor’s body as he was pressed to strong muscle clad in baggy gi. A slight brush of Trunks lips against his caused Gohan to shiver, and he swept his tongue lightly forward.

Yielding to the older half saiyan’s advances, Trunks parted his mouth and a surge of hot breath moved between them both. Minute cracklings of ki tingled over his body, and Gohan tasted what seemed like electric blue. He didn’t want to let go of the warmth he had found and protected through hard days of endless training. Yet he found himself angered that at some point he couldn’t have the power to keep his word.

Trunks would have to protect himself one of these days. Moreover, that realization made him drink all the more firmly from the soft moving lips tasting his for the first time. Gently Gohan boosted him up and felt the wrap of young slender arms around his muscled neck. Lips parting for breath, their foreheads pressed tightly and damp with sweat, pants fanning each other’s faces. As close as could be, cobalt blue eyes and ebony ones firmly locked, their determination shared.

“I won’t always be able to protect you,” Gohan found himself saying.

“Don’t be stupid. I don’t need protecting. We’ll both have each other’s backs, Gohan. I promise,” Trunks exhaled deeply, his gaze wide and full of wonder.

“I know,” Gohan began to mouth, but stifled his impulse to ruin the moment by moving his mouth again over Trunks.

Saying nothing, they basked and drank in the comfort that they could provide. Then reluctantly Gohan released him from the embrace, his mask of hard objectivity again arising. Licking his lips Trunks felt the awkwardness falling on them both.

“Gohan, are you all right?” Trunks asked.

“Food would be good. I don’t know about you, but my mom always cooks more than she can eat. And she’s closer,” Gohan answered, cutting off Trunks concerned question.

“Sounds good to me, but are you sure you’re okay?” Trunks answered, frowning slightly that Gohan had suddenly plastered on what seemed like a generic Son smile and tugged at his sleeve.

“Show me if you can fly any faster, Trunks. You’re going to need to crank up the pace to get there before its all gone, food wise,” Gohan laughed. Already he levitated upwards, and Trunks blasted off after him so he wouldn’t be left behind.

“Dammit Gohan, stop shutting me out,” Trunks found himself saying.

It was as if Gohan couldn’t decide between being the stoic protector and someone free to feel. Far more then just friend or confidant, but lover perhaps? In catastrophic times like those they now inhabited, love was a rare treasure that should be siezed while it lasted, lest it shatter forever unrequited. Would he have to settle for brief cracks in the façade, or would that kiss be the prelude to something else, Trunks wondered? He didn’t know that Gohan had the very same thought as they blazed their way across the ruined wastelands towards Gohan’s mountain home.

Am I his sensei, lover, or both? Gohan pondered, his dark brows knitted in aggravation. Dare he even think of his own needs for one moment when so many counted on him?

Perhaps yes… he nodded soberly. Especially since love was the force that drove his father to greatness and beyond. Pure love in all forms no matter what was irrepressible.