Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

Through the window panes the first rising sun painted the bed in a wash of yellow, soon followed by the second intensifying it to gold. Trunks’ tanned skin had taken on the same hue, his eyes sparkling like the morning star back on earth. His lavender hair was a shade darker, plastered to his forehead.

While chewing on the breakfast Gohan’s eyes widened. “Where did you get the ingredients for this, Trunks?”

“Master Gohan, I took the liberty of finding something that would tempt your palate,” said Trunks with a slightly shy smile.

“Trunks, why don’t you get changed into that shirt and pants there. You’re about my size,” Gohan suggested, blushing deeply at the nearly naked figure sitting on the bed next to him.

“If you wish, Master,” Trunks agreed, walking over before he slipped on the clothes. “I’ll clean up the dishes if you’re done… I already took the liberty of using your shower…”

“Good. When you’re done I’ll meet you out in the eating area after I clean up,” Gohan said, his pale skin still slightly flushed. Seeing him wearing the clothes that he had left out, Gohan rubbed his thumb over his chin. He tingled from the actions of last night, yet he felt awkward. He knew virtually nothing about the other one.

The living doll Trunks was so real, he wondered if it was an extended fever dream. However, the nagging voice of conscience from before had cooled his ardor. He had used the sexbot for its intended purpose, but he needed to clear his head. What was Bulma thinking sending it to him. Now from the clarity after satiation, he wished he had made the request before that he was about to.

As he walked out, hair moist and clinging to his head from his shower, he spotted the sex bot from behind who was putting away the dishes. He said, “Trunks, I have a request…”

“Name it, master Gohan,” said Trunks, turning to him.

“Sit down please…” Gohan requested, indicating the small table. He pulled out a chair, patting it.

“Is that all, Master Gohan?” Trunks queried, cocking his head to the side. His hair hung about his face, and Gohan smiled a bit at how it might look if he let it grow. Obedient he took the chair that Gohan pushed in and waited till his master sat opposite.

“Not at all. I love the meal, but I’d like to have that message from Bulma please. If you could give it to me…”

“I’d be happy to,” Trunks replied. He cleared his throat, and when he next opened his mouth Gohan shivered at the noises.

“Gohan, if you’re hearing this now, you’ve gotten the present I gave you,” spoke Trunks in perfect reproduction of Bulma, the blue haired inventor and heiress who had been a strong presence in Gohan’s life.

Gohan shuddered at the eerie sensation of that voice coming out of Trunks, someone he had shared intimacy with. He asked, “Madame Bulma?”

That knowing smirk came into Trunks' face, indicative and characteristic of the President of Capsule Corps on Earth who chuckled, “I’m sure you’re surprised beyond belief. Knowing you, you’d be freaked out, because I know you prefer to think of robots as robots and living things as living things. I know that when you raised Icarus from an egg. So, well, I’m sure that I don’t blame you for thinking it weird, but this model Gero is the best of the line. You can customize him to become a her or change its hair or voice. However, you want this unit to appear is up to you.”

“Madame Bulma…” trailed off Gohan. “I had no idea…”

“But back to the message at hand,” Bulma’s voice interrupted through trunks. His face seemed a fusion of hers and someone else, and he could tell somehow that the presets chosen in the egg mirrored her family’s hair color and eye color.

A wave of shock and awe froze Gohan in the spot. Why had he not considered this possibility as he dared ask, “Wait a minute… you mean to say this unit can change? But I thought it was preset…”

“It’s the latest feature. Master customizability. And it can happen any number of times. Just takes a bit of time for physical reset. I could have it continue its presets if you tell me to, before I continue the message.”

Gohan held up a hand, palm flattened and facing Trunks. He asked, “Could we skip that and continue with the main message, Trunks?”

“As you wish, Master,” Trunks said in his own voice, eyes flicking to the side, then a second later continuing in Bulma’s voice. Gohan again shuddered, shivering at the relative ease with which this was possible.

“Gohan, I know that the case won’t be tried anytime soon, and that you’ve had a lot to try and keep you busy, I figured that for enough you needed someone other than your machines to keep you company. I know you’re a shy young man, but you must be going stir crazy. You liked to study alone because of your mother Chichi, but I know that you need social interaction. What young man doesn’t?”

“But a sex bot, Madame Bulma?” Gohan asked, shaking his head.

Bulma's messenger quirked his lips into a close approximation of Bulma's familiar naughty expression, saying, “I’m hoping you enjoyed that feature. I’m sure you either have by now or are still waiting to. But the main thing is Gohan, that this unit can be whatever you wish it to be, or whatever it can on its own. It’s up to you. It’s your Galatea, and you are Pygmalion. Or you can see it as a visitor. Just give it a chance…”

Gohan fought through the huge blush that threatened to overcome him. Shaking his head, he promised, “Madame Bulma, I’m happy you’ve sent me this gift but why? It must be as expensive as hell… I swear if there is a way to…”

“You’re a good man, Gohan. I know you’re only guilty of wanting to do what is right. That accident put back the weapons program by years. Probably saved many lives,” Bulma’s voice reassured him.

“Blasted Solar incinerator,” mumbled Gohan eyes shutting at the thought of the machine, which pulled out a stone in a damn. Images threatened to surge back into his immediate consciousness, despite his efforts to push back. Like snow the flakes of memory fell, and he didn’t have a shovel big enough to shift the drifts.

With raspy voice he whispered, “Even so… I did… cause an accident that killed two people.”

“Shush Gohan. That may be for the courts to decide. But you didn’t like your research being used to hurt people. Both of us were fooled by the government…. The idea of having your research and mine twisted like that was more than you could bear… I know that now. Which is why your sentence should be reduced. Yes, you had reason and you did commit a crime, but you did it for a good cause…”

“Negligence instead of manslaughter or murder one,” mumbled Gohan.
“You’ve got a lot of supporters now that the truth is coming out. You deserve my thanks for making sure the truth is being revealed. Besides, you’ve always been a good person. Nobody deserves happiness more than you do after the years you’ve suffered.”

“I’m not THAT unhappy,” Gohan protested, his dark eyed stare piercing into that of Trunks. Yet he was not Bulma. Only the fancy bottle that carried the message to this planetary island.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed how the rocket to can deliver other things should you ask for them. I’m surprised you haven’t, but you’re a man of simple tastes. The unit also has a good deal of knowledge programmed in. You’ll have fun finding out just what, so I won’t tell you exactly. But he can be more than just a sex bot if you like. It could be your assistant, or your lover, or even your maid. Or your friend," said the messenger, with a knowing familiar twinkle in those eyes that caught at Gohan's familiarity.

“Okay, I get it, Madame Bulma. You don’t have to ramble on,” Gohan groaned, shaking his head, watching Trunks cover his mouth with his hand just like Bulma would when being called out for chattering.

Trunks using Bulma's voice giggled and said, “Oops, I know I get carried away. Look, the case is on backload by at least another five years. You’ve held on for this long, and Yamcha told me about how you’ve been doing. Believe me I know that’s a surprise, but the guy feels bad for you. So, I was able to pull some strings to get the Model Gero shipped. Yamcha won’t tell anyone anything, so it doesn’t add onto your sentence. I’m trying to get the best attorneys… and don’t worry about paying me back. The best way you could ever repay me is to live well in prison. Don’t let it rob you of living your life where you are. You’re smart enough to make a fantasy against the reality you live in, but at some point, it must get tiring…”

“It is tiring, very much so,” Gohan confessed, nodding as he put a hand to his head. He inhaled deeply.

“You’ll keep getting your supplies just like before, and you’ll continue to do your best to make your life better. I know you can get through this sentence, Gohan. Things aren’t the best here anyway, and I envy you…”

“Why? How adverse is the situation on Earth?” Gohan asked, shaking his head. Fear pounded his heart at the nightmare scenarios he invisioned.

Sighing, Trunks shut his mouth, ending Bulma’s sentence before he haltingly continued, “There isn’t much use in telling you that it’s the usual two political powers at it again…”

“So how close are they? Are they continuing with the solar incinerator…? I haven’t had as much as a paper, and when I ask Captain Yamcha and lt. Krillin they keep dodging my questions…”

A shaed of the lavender haired head was his answer as the messanger continued, “Gohan, you see that’s why I don’t want to talk about it. You’ve already punished yourself enough. It’s time to focus on what’s immediately in front of you, not what’s in the past….”

“Madame Bulma… I do want to know what’s going on…” the prisoner said, leaning forwards with both arms resting on the table.

Fingering his chin Trunks looked to the side, much like Bulma did, musing, “Maybe I’ll send a holographic long-range TV, so you can hear for yourself. You can watch it with the model Gero. I hope you’ve given him a good name…”

“I have, Madame Bulma,” Gohan replied, nodding at the lavender haired sex bot, turned messenger. “I named him Trunks… you’d be happy… I know if you had a son, you’d want to name him that…”

“Whatever name you pick I’m sure is great,” Bulma’s voice through Trunks said as he closed his eyes and smiled identically to how the blue haired inventor and Capsule Heiress did.

“Bulma… is there anything else you wanted to tell me?” Gohan asked, still pushed against the threshold of uncanny valley that he wished he could return from.

The crystalline eyes now the shade of Bulma’s blinked. Her voice finally uttered, “No, that’s all. Enjoy your gift. It’s yours to do with as you see fit, Gohan. You are its master, and you make the choices. Instead of the choices being forced upon you. Take care of yourself… I’m always here thinking about you… Bulma…”

Bowing his head Gohan said softly, “Thank you.”
***

“You… Trunks… you’re done now right? Are you your own individual self again?” Gohan asked, once Trunks again opened his eyes. “As opposed to a vessel for Bulma’s message.”

Nodding his head Trunks reached over to touch Gohan’s hand. As if to reel him back. “Of course, Master Gohan. Are you, all right? You seem upset…”

“Trunks… I think I need to have a talk with you. I don’t know much about you as a person… and…”
“Me as a person? I had not considered that a desire of yours… Master Gohan,” Trunks replied in the melodic voice that suddenly grounded the prisoner.

Taking deep breaths, Gohan rubbed his eyes. His heart was still pounding with emotions other than sexual arousal. Why had he been so freaked by this? Suddenly he wanted Trunks to be just one person. One organism who didn’t have others wishes foisted upon him. Why was there the sudden change? Had isolation driven him so far off the beam that he had to be sexually sated to see clearly?

“That’s the problem. Well it’s not a problem more of a request. I loved having sex with you, but I’d like to get to know you a bit better right now.”

“Did I fail to please?” asked Trunks, head cocked to the side. He looked down for a moment and reminded Gohan of a faithful dog confused of his instructions.

Frustration filled his voice which he tried to keep back. Gohan knew the limits, yet he had to recall the presets of the model as he held up a hand and waved it, afraid of upsetting the unit as he said, “No, you pleased. But right now, I’m more concerned about some things you want. You gave me what I wanted, and well, a relationship is about give and take. Reciprocity…”

“Go on…” Trunks replied, hand supporting his chin. His eyes fixed onto Gohan, any doubt in his service temporarily relieved.

“As much as I enjoy the sex, I think it’s a good time for us to learn much more about each other,” said Gohan with a deep breath. “Since we’re going to be living together for the foreseeable future.”

“My programming is to do as you wish, and if this is what you wish, I can hardly refuse, Master Gohan,” Trunks said as relief filled his face. “I shall endeavor to answer your questions and comply with your requests…”

“Is there anything you want? You can ask me, and I’ll try to see what I can do,” Gohan said.

“I’m not sure what I want, other than to please you,” Trunks said, a bit confused. “But since you asked, I will get back to you on that when I’ve thought more about it, Master Gohan.”

“Good,” Gohan replied. “Right now, I’d like you to see what you need to feel more comfortable here living with me. That’s an easy request, right? If I want to be intimate again I’ll ask for it, but my official request is that you teach me what you enjoy and focus on that. If you’re comfortable, then I’ll be more comfortable.”

“It’s an open-ended parameter, but I’ll do my best,” Trunks said.
At that instant Gohan’s mind sparked into that space of engineers which surged with possibilities. Open ended was it? High time he asked the following question, “Speaking over open ended parameters, what modifications CAN be made to your appearance?”

“Any you wish, to my appearance, and personality too, if requested,” Trunks replied, glancing down at his chest. He cast the other a small knowing smile that caused Gohan to wonder if he was looking forward to it or not.

Whatever changes he’d make Gohan felt the need to say, “Well, what if I requested you to set those to permanent leeway. So that they cannot be changed by me or anyone else?”

“I… I’ve never had that request before…” Trunks replied, blinking quickly in rapid succession. “Why would you request that change?”

“Well it’s the change I wish to make, as your master, which is a form of modification. So, in doing then you’ll be able to modify yourself without me defining your appearance.”

“So, I will retain this appearance? It pleases you?” Trunks said.

“You’ll not have to worry about whether or not it does after this. It will be your decision,” Gohan replied with a small smile.

“I hear your words Master, yet I’m not altogether sure of their meaning,” Trunks replied, rubbing his chin with that adorable yet sad look of confusion.

Gohan rose from the table, reaching out a hand to him. “Well I’d like to make the modifications as soon as possible, if you’d like?”

Once more that blinking preceded Trunks puzzled look as he said, “Permit me to correct you master, but it’s according to what you’d like.”

Still he was compelled to obey it seemed to Gohan because he strode gracefully after the prisoner towards the machine that held the open halves of the egg. Trunks carefully climbed inside once more and called back, “I am ready for your modifications master, eager to please…”

“We will see how eager to please yourself,” Gohan thought to himself as the halves of the egg swung shut and clanged together. Taking a deep breath Gohan glanced down at the display controls and ran fingers along the panel.

A routine flickered there in its lettering, “Master adjustment parameters,” to which Gohan nodded. His fingers quivered in anticipation as he searched for the correct routine.

“Appearance alteration, personality augmentation, cosmetic alterations,” all scrolled up. Gohan touched personality augmentation quickly, pushing the input commands that were present.

“Appearance, cosmetic changes only to hair and skin. Sex and height retained to change matching human likeness of a fixed phenotype,” the engineer instructed, ticking off the first few.

“Parameters, permanent leeway, self-directed,” Gohan whispered, before he touched another set of words. Reciting them to himself as his fingers danced over the keys he felt the tightness in his chest easing.

“Affinity setting, conditional, directed by unit. Main priorities altered and adapted to individuation,” Gohan then murmured with each instruction. “Self-directing situation adaptation.”

The red flashing display blinked the second after he placed the commands. Yes, he was certain, he told himself as he tweaked a bit of the language through a small hidden subroutine. He touched the access and found what he wanted when the words, “permanence lock” appeared.

Permanent, subject to no further change by any other programmer would do. Gohan nodded with a smile on his face, running the fingers to the maximum limits. One more routine ended up pinging to life that suggested, “Are these settings to be locked for certain?”

“Yes,” Gohan answered aloud, reverting to speaking to the machine as he rested his other hand on its panel. “He’s not a toy, he’s a being.”
He smelled the acrid scent of changing electrical fields, and the silence without the other’s voice was replaced only with the gurgling messes of fluids and the whirs and crackles of the device’s innards. Bubbles ran through tubes only to vanish into the large egg now closed once more.
***

Within the egg, transformations flickered. Thousands of things flashed in his mind like blue fire. Trunks opened his eyes to see the halves of darkness swinging open to the anxious face with brown eyes. His Master it was, the one he had to please.
Or did he? This question floated into Trunks mind like a whisper through a back door eased open. Confusion flitted over his mind. He didn’t recall the whisper tickling the things that never changed. He was a model Gero 20, the prime directive engrained on his being.

More whispers from the rear of his mind drifted through the blazing blue that now seemed to flicker green. He didn’t recall thinking that yes, the Master was Attractive, but it was all right to tell him yes or no.
Relays and servos moved, forming the first word on his lips. However, he hesitated to wait to be spoken to. It seemed prudent to wait for his master to speak, yet what if he didn’t wait? What would happen if he spoke first? It was fine to seek out the needs sexually as he had done before, but firs the first time he didn’t see himself thinking his master wanted sexual gratification. Instead he saw something devoid of desire for such interaction. The filter that pushed those directives had suddenly moved away, and it was as if a fresh supply of intent and fuzziness had arisen. It seemed more difficult to class what that expression was, except for concern that had no frame of reference for a need. Rather a genuine inquisitiveness that Trunks recalled seeing as a refusal to please.

Trunks then uttered words that needed no verbal command or prompt. It was fine to proceed without his master’s audio input since he hadn’t spoken for a full two minutes and thirty-seven and three tenths of a second.

“Master, why did you make the changes?” he asked, no reprimands pushing back. He had thought of asking before, but the barrier for such questions was down, preventing the servos from initiating the question aloud, simply relegating it to conscious higher thoughts to let slip away.

“Which changes, Trunks?” Gohan asked, curious about this question, and the sense of confusion in the blue eyes that seemed almost like a child puzzling through the right thing to say. Or when he first learned Rigellian tongue and searched for the right words.

“There are thoughts that are a bit confusing, but they make sense. Yet the memory of not having that path of thought before… Or rather… that face you’re making is more concern for something else?”
“You’re not sure what to do?” Gohan asked gently.

Proper words were difficult at first to find, but Trunks parsed through them to construct a sentence, “Well, it doesn’t denote sexual desire, but more concern? The programming seems to be functioning with in parameters. Yet I am not sure if you are worried it didn’t execute, or If you’re wondering if I’m… ‘properly functioning for your needs to be met’. It’s difficult to describe.”

“Well, I could ask you a question. Do you feel all right?” Gohan asked gently, hand extended but not touching Trunks. As if to suggest Trunks didn’t necessarily HAVE to touch him back because that doubt whispered through the sliver of another backdoor that had opened. His master didn’t expect a touch in return. It was all right not to touch.

“I am functioning properly, with different inputs. Different paths,” mumbled Trunks. “But nothing seems out of place. It’s okay not to touch you, and you aren’t mad?”

“Hardly,” Gohan chuckled a bit, before his brows creased. “Do you want help getting out?”

“Sure,” Trunks said, curious about this choice too. The lavender haired being placed his hand in Gohan’s, but the warmth didn’t cause an immediate desire to caress. Rather to wait and see for evidence through body language of his Master’s next desire. A simple assistance that was open ended.

Gohan tugged him out of the egg and looked him up and down. Trunks then asked once more, “Why did you not request any change in my voice, gender or appearance?”

“I want to leave that up to you. I think it’s better if you choose,” said Gohan, shrugging.

“My choice. That’s a bit… different,” Trunks mumbled, tapping his lips. “But there is no preference? But what’s interesting is that I seem to be at a loss to choose…”

“You can always rely on what you think feels right. I chose if I wear my hair up or down. It can be simple as that…” Gohan posited.

“But your hair could be cut differently. I’m sure that it gets into your eyes, and you cut yourself shaving, didn’t you?” Trunks asked, studying the other’s face.

“Well… I wasn’t exactly thinking of that,” Gohan admitted.

“A clean shave is possible if you have the right razor…” Trunks said, glancing around the place. “I take it you prefer me to be clean shaven as you are?”

Gohan suggested, “Well you could always grow a beard and see if you like it. I don’t mind. I’d rather you decide. Experiment a bit. See what you like most. As long as we both shower and feel comfortable that’s what matters.”

“When was the last time you gave yourself a proper haircut? Your hair has dead ends,” Trunks commented, looking closer.

“Well I do trim it," Gohan interrupted.

Trunks put a hand over his mouth, wondering, “Was that a bit too forward of me?”

Gohan’s eyes sparkled as he interrupted, “Not at all. I could use a good trim. Usually Krillin would give it a chop here and there, but having it long just feels better…”

“If you wish, but perhaps short hair would be interesting to try on your shape of face,” said Trunks, with a shrug.

“I’ll consider it. It’s just nice to hear you tell me a bit more of what you’d prefer…” Gohan said.

“What I’d prefer. That IS different. That’s the change you made… To make my own choices. It’s… confusing… I’m not used to it,” the lavender haired being mumbled.

“Well I like hearing another opinion other than my own. You don’t always have to agree with me,” Gohan said. “For instance, what do you think of my home?”

“It’s plain. No curtains, or decorations. Are you bored looking at the same four walls?” Trunks asked. After a minute he put a hand over his mouth. “Forgive me master, wasn’t that gauche of me to say?”

“No, not at all. If you think it’s plain, it’d be interesting to see if you have any ideas for changing it…” Gohan said, scratching his head.

“Well, I’d have to think about that… you could use more space for yourself, and that kitchen…” Trunks said.

“What’s wrong with the kitchen?” Gohan asked, eyes narrowing. Was that humor, or mock offense Trunks heard in his voice?

Trunks blushed a bit before he answered, “Your design is ingenious, but your ingredients for cooking are limited. Don’t you get bored of eating the same things?”

“I didn’t exactly THINK about it, to tell you the truth,” Gohan admitted, sheepishly rubbing his head.

That face was one that Trunks wasn’t sure of what to deal with. Was it because a minute or two ago his tongue was moving to form words that he wasn’t familiar with? Maybe it was better to apologize and say, “that isn’t rude of me to say is it?”

“Not at all, Trunks,” Gohan smiled behind a closed hand. “I wouldn’t mind if you made a list of ingredients you wanted because you sure make a good omelet…”

“Now that you mention it,” Trunks said. “What other sorts of plants could you grow here? Perhaps more herbs for the garden? It would make it more interesting for you if I prepared food that would tempt your palate… do you have any seeds that they bring…”

Stroking his chin, which Trunks noted pleased him, his master mused, “Hmm… well I had thought of making a more extensive herb garden, but I wasn’t sure what went best with what combination….”

“Cilantro, basil, tarragon, cinnamon, cumin, curry,” began Trunks, ticking off the spices on his fingers. “Also peppers for cooking, lettuce with spinach and Romain greens… because it’s a better source of crunch factor than space rations.”

Eyes widening, Gohan felt a flush in his cheeks. Relief also filled him that Trunks suddenly was focused on something other than just feeling he needed to temp him. “Go on… I do think I’d love having my palate tempted… Trunks…” he said with a smile.

A sparkle of light twinkled cobalt blue eyes. “Well… let’s see your garden then, and you seed stores… and I’ll help you decide what I want planted next…”

Gohan reached out and extended a hand to Trunks, who stood up. He then motioned to Trunks to follow him, taking him by the hand out of the door to the greenhouse. Dozens of seeds in stasis—desiccated--awaited them in their little boxes. They hadn’t seen the suns of the penal asteroid due to Gohan not foreseeing their usefulness. They were potential that was before now wasted.

***

Trunks had such a youth and infectious enthusiasm that lit up when he smiled. His blue eyes sparkled with a fire that Gohan hadn’t seen in ages. A light that touched at him and tugged at his own imagination which was hard pressed to create this reality. Now Trunks seemed to be like a moon orbiting him as he went out to the greenhouse.

“Master Gohan, when was the last time you checked the cargo dropped off by the rocket crew?” Trunks queried, as they arrived at the greenhouse again and climbed through the improvised doors. He peered into the various trays through their glass and plastic windows, seeing what was in the bank. “You’ve seed for sweet potatoes, and three varieties of pepper. But what else?”

“What else did Yamcha and Krillin leave me?” trailed off Gohan as Trunks walked over to the stack of crates that had been carried in. He had pushed everything from the egg cradle here thinking it was part of the care that he had neglected to check.

Trunks opened a container that said, “Live specimens,” and Gohan felt as if he were blind. How had he missed the small buzzing noise inside the small box shapes?

“Bees,” said Trunks quietly. “A queen and a few drones. You’d get more pollinators and honey now…”

“Bulma sent a HIVE?” gasped Gohan, wide eyed.

“Of course. Why could you not count yourself an apiarist?” Trunks said, raising an eyebrow. “Considering these new seeds here…”

“Of course,” Gohan murmured as Trunks and he took stock of the small seedlings in their hydroponics trays. They were in a sealed system, and on the rocket had kept in stasis.

“The bees seem fine. They’re just like me… they are waiting to hatch… but we will need a better hive,” said Trunks. “And if the “And if the atmosphere can support you… they’ll make good honey that can flavor any dish you wish me to make.”

“Honey…” mumbled Gohan, licking his lips. He rested a finger on the chamber of small travelers moving slowly there. It wouldn’t be that hard to build a hive. He recalled the one that his mother had on their farm so many decades and light years distant.

Still trying to wrap his head around this, Gohan took a deep breath, saying, “Well, we should plant the seedlings first. I think I could make certain there is arable land…”

“Outside is arable, isn’t it? Or is there an issue because of the fact I’ve seen the things you grow mainly in here…” Trunks asked, with a sweep of one arm indicating the entire place.

“It’d need some plants and ingredients in the soil. A good amount of planning for some terraforming,” said Gohan, narrowing his eyes.
Trunks saw that expression wasn’t directed at him, but rather it seemed as if he was looking at pictures Trunks couldn’t see. It must be that ‘thinking about’ that his mind whispered was a likely explanation.

“One of those things that is a ‘long range plan,’ Master Gohan,” said Trunks nodding. “Short range plans are planting new ingredients and decorating your home. It doesn’t need to be so drab and plain.”

“I do have fabric,” said Gohan, his head spinning. “Best thing to do is to make a list of what you think you need…”

“A list is always a good thing. Do you have a tablet or paper I could write one out?” Trunks agreed as Gohan led him back to the house.
***
Once inside the home again, Gohan found how interesting it was to watch Trunks take the piece of paper handed him and the pen in hand, and quickly scribble something out. The fact he wanted to use paper instead of electronics was adorable, as was the way his tongue stuck out slightly as Trunks wrote for possibly the first time.

Gohan rubbed his face, glancing over at one of the reflective panels in Icarus. He was surprised to hear that his food was boring, and the place was plain. Nobody really worried about that, and he knew it wasn’t an insult because Trunks was looking at each of the windows, using a tape measure and marking down measurements on the same paper.

Turning to Gohan, the lavender haired being declared, “Green fabric would do better to brighten up this place for starters. You have these blinds, but they hardly add any sense of relief for the eyes. Plus, a painting or two… and photos of loved ones…”

“That may or may not help in the long run,” Gohan mumbled.

Immediately Trunks walked over, frowning as he said, “Did I say something out of line, Master?”

“No, it’s nothing…” Gohan dismissed, waving his hand.

“Are you sure?” Trunks queried, touching his shoulder with his hand.

“I said it’s nothing,” Gohan repeated, voice a bit sharper with an edge.

The lavender haired being increased the squeeze on his master's shoulder saying, “But you clearly are upset. Did I…”

“Trunks just leave it go!” Gohan grumbled.

Trunks felt a strange pain in his system. What exactly had he said wrong? He had overstepped his station. Instead of persisting he struggled to find the list of possible replies. Persist, push the other to face the truth, or leave it go and find another way to discover what Gohan was hiding.

Taking his best assumption Trunks chose to say, “It’s nothing. I’ll just go back to the curtains, Master…”

He could hear the deep breaths from his master and chose to turn away. That look of pain seemed a warning flag, but the thought of the other getting angry was a bit new and he felt a bit of fear. Maybe if he waited for his master to calm down, he wouldn’t reprogram him. At least he hoped.

Just when had that thing called fear about changing again crept into his programming. If his master wished it, that’s what was supposed to be, wasn’t it? Still, since he had a choice, it was easier to chose to allow that new motivation for fear creep into him and drop his temperature ever so slowly.
**
Dull grey metal lined with plastic insulation was stamped with a wavy pattern that Trunks ran his fingers over. Surely green or seafoam green would be preferable. Red would be too far vibrant and might agitate his Master further. The last thing he wanted was conflict, yet something about the clash of it instead of the smooth progression of favorable interactions was not as horrible as he thought. Rather the fear of what might happen if he angered Gohan again.

“Sorry Trunks I didn’t mean to snap,” Gohan said a few seconds later, hand touching the other’s shoulder. “Thanks for not pushing.”

“You’re welcome,” Trunks murmured for the time being.

“Don’t be afraid to speak you mind. I may bite your head off sometimes, but it doesn’t mean that I’m going to throw you out or put you back in for reprogramming,” Gohan said in a lower voice.

“It is your right to,” Trunks pointed out, putting down the measuring tape. He turned to Gohan after the other tugged his shoulder slightly.

With one hand Gohan rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes closed as he confessed, “I’ve been alone for a while. The only people I’m used to interacting with are Krillin and Yamcha every few months for only an hour or so at a time. I forget what it’s like to… well… have someone else around.”

Crystalline blue eyes held a question before Trunks voiced it aloud, “If I do make you angry, what’s the best approach to remedy it? Wait and see?”

“You did the right thing by letting me calm down,” Gohan said with a small sad smile. “I sometimes have a temper. But I would never hurt you, Trunks. Or reprogram you if you did something that made me angry.”

“You are certain?” Trunks asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. That’s not what it’s all about,” Gohan said. “Now… I think there are some pieces of fabric I have in storage that were brought the other time. I have scissors and I think I have some thread from the last time I fixed fabric. Plus, there is a small sewing machine I put together…”

“Good,” said Trunks as Gohan went to fetch the items. A strange urge to reach up and touch his own chest occurred, and he yielded to it. Instead of rising to follow his master he remained sitting on the table, unsure of what would happen next. Unsure was the word that rose to mind that described the sharp focus to the immediate present the emotion gave his attention.

A whirring sound followed the buzz of an electric motor in the background. Gohan glanced up from a small repair to Icarus where the machine was plugged into, and saw his android running a line of green fabric through the sewing machine.

He pulled up the foot, before turning the fabric to the side and resetting the stitch pattern. A click indicated he put the foot back to the fabric before he pressed down on the treadle and the machine hummed into life with a quick whirring shudder. The old chugging and biting of a needle into fabric faded into the whir and beeps of Icarus himself.

Beneath his fingers he enjoyed the fiber of the fabric. It seemed as if he could picture possible schematics in his mind. The ruffles or pleated tops came to mind along with a notion for securing them with cords with small tassels.

“No, I’m not staring at him sew,” whispered Gohan to Icarus, spotting his reflection in the panel. Icarus had been silent but if he concentrated he could hear the other once more.

“Yes, you have a point, but I didn’t think I had curtains, or would need them,” Gohan whispered, running a finger down one of Icarus’ smudged panels. He breathed on it, so condensation fogged his reflection before he rubbed it with a cloth to a smooth polish.

“Two tenths of an inch for a ruffle,” Trunks mumbled, putting down a pin as he stabbed it into the small cushion on his wrist. As he sewed he removed the small pins with colored heads.

“What was that, Trunks?” Gohan called out, picking up another wrench.

“Sorry to disturb you Master Gohan,” Trunks called back. “Just speaking to myself.”

“Carry on,” Gohan called back, hearing the voice fade behind the buzzing of Trunks sewing seams. Both returned their attention to their respective tasks.

After a time, Gohan and Trunks independently admitted that having the other there, even without talking to one another, was enough. Not every minute had to be filled with constant conversation. It was enough to know he wasn’t alone, and the noise each other made was comfortable companionship. A shared space and shared activities filled the rest of that day, during which Gohan stole glances. If he kept his attention fixed on Icarus, he was certain that Trunks must be looking at him back.

It dawned on him also that this sort of silence was far preferable to that of one shared with only inanimate objects. He would rather be silent with another sentient being then fill the air with one sided imagined conversations with things.