Welcome to Boxer & Rice

It was raining again.

Goten sighed as he listened to the steady patter of soothing raindrops on the roof of the little two-room apartment he shared with Trunks. The bedroom was dark save the soft glow of the street lamp one floor down and he rested back against the heavy wooden frame of the windowsill watching the precipitation transform the pavement below into a faery tale scene of shimmering fantasy. It would have been beautiful if the man had allowed himself the empty thought of appreciation, but his sight was occupied by something far more entrancing.

Huddled deep into a dark wool jacket, whose prickly collar turned up against his flushed cheeks, Trunks walked briskly and defiantly against the unyielding wind and weather. Goten stood expressionless in the dark window, watching as his lover approached from the opposite end of the block. His gut tightened mercilessly for a brief moment before he grasped his resolve by the throat and hardened the growing wall around his heart. He didn't want to hear it tonight, didn't want to have to deal with this again...

The youngest Son ignored the persistent aching in his chest and rested his forehead against the cold glass windowpane.

I can't deal with this tonight, Trunks. I wish you would just tell him. I don't know how much longer I can live like this...

It was decidedly cold for April, but the chill temperature was not entirely the fault of the season. The small apartment had been uncomfortable for some time.

The young man at the window ran a limp hand through his wild Saiyan mane and continued to note his lover's progress. Almost to the street light. His throat constricted tightly as the pale yellow phosphorescence captured the damp, tangled hair--the tall, confident form, casting a glittering black shadow that dwarfed the man in comparison. And then the figure was lost as he ascended the steps of the brick building, fumbling through the large pockets of his coat in search of the keys that would allow him entrance. The demi-Saiyan did not move from his position, though he closed his eyes, waiting for the tell-tale sound of footsteps on the stairs, the soft jingle of the key in the door. It never came.

Puzzled, Goten opened his eyes and was surprised to see that Trunks had not yet walked through the door of the apartment building. He had discarded his black leather briefcase on the sidewalk and was standing in the middle of the liquid pool of golden lamplight.

~You took your coat off and stood in the rain.
You were always crazy like that...~

Goten straightened in confusion and instinctual concern as Trunks unbuttoned his long trench coat and shrugged it off his broad shoulders. He's going to catch a cold if he stays out there...Scowling, the young man broke off the unwanted thought. He couldn't afford to care right now. Even though he loved that stubborn man more than anything else on the planet, Goten had waited long enough for Trunks to come around.

The lavender-haired demi-Saiyan tilted his face skyward, coat looped lazily through one arm, the hem brushing against the wet pavement, forgotten.

~And I watched from my window,
Always felt I was outside looking in on you.~

Despite his commendable efforts to stop it, Goten found himself lost in reverie. He had always admired the other demi-Saiyan, and loved him for years before he finally found the courage within himself to admit his feelings to the other man. Trunks had always seemed like an exotic flower--sweet smelling and beautiful to look at, unreachable, untouchable. It hardly mattered that they had grown up together. Sure, he could tell the man anything, but there remained a mysterious quality to his lover that even their intimacy could not penetrate. It had been a Cinderella story when Trunks had returned Goten's clumsily voiced sentiment. But three years later, he was still waiting for his happily ever after.

~You were always the mysterious one with dark eyes and careless hair,
You were fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care. ~

Dammit, Trunks, why is this so difficult? I just want you...I know you love me, and Dende damn me, but I love you just as fiercely in return...So why must you keep our love a secret?

The man below him seemed to respond to his unspoken thought, deep blue eyes raising to the window. Goten's heart beat a rapid cadence in his chest and he stepped backward involuntarily, into the safe darkness of the unlit room. Trunks' gaze lingered longingly before he roused himself from his dazed state, reaching down mechanically for his briefcase and trudging up the stone stairs.

~Then you stood in my doorway, with nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather...~

Goten turned slowly as the latch in the door slid at the turn of a keystroke. His impenetrable expression softened at the sight of his dripping lover. The man should have looked like he had been through hell and back, soaked to the skin, shirt clinging attractively to his muscled form. But he was rustically beautiful to the other man. He shifted uncertainly in the doorway, shuffling his feet and tucking a strand of light hair behind his ear. As his eyes adjusted to the dim illumination, the man stilled, focusing on the shadowy form beside the bed. Goten was silent as Trunks laid the heavy coat over the back of the chair near the doorway. The scent of wet wool and spring rain followed his lover into the room, permeating the air with the soothing, comfortable odors he associated with the other demi-Saiyan. He laid his briefcase flat on the table with a soft thud and took a hesitant step into the apartment, the door swinging shut with a gentle click as the lock reset. Tossing his keys after the black leather satchel, Trunks made hesitant steps into the building. He paused mid-stride as his shoes squished in the shallow puddle that had formed around his sopping figure.

"It's, uh, raining again," Trunks blushed as he leaned, wrapping one hand on the back frame of the chair for balance and toeing off his saturated sneakers.

"I can see that." Goten fought for control of his resolve, steeling himself and battling the weakness in his knees that always succeeded the silken sound of his lover's words. "Had to work late again?"

Trunks swallowed, latching his eyes onto the very involved task of peeling wet socks off his feet. They landed with an audible slap on the hard wood floor and his blue eyes flickered quickly up to his companion's black unblinking orbs.

He cleared his throat as he straightened, yanking at his red tie with an abrupt jerk of his head and pulling it off. "Yeah...Th-there were a few projects mama left that I wanted to finish before the convention on Friday."

Goten didn't nod, barely acknowledged his statement. They both knew it was complete crap.

The younger man bit the inside of his lip as his eyes threatened to pattern themselves after the weather outside. His mouth tightened into a hard line and his throat ached with a sudden painful spasm at his lover's comment.

Oh, Trunks...why do you have to lie to me?

Goten slumped down heavily on the worn blue bedspread, resting his head in his open hands.

~In case you failed to notice, in case you failed to see,
This is my heart bleeding before you, this is me down on my knees...~

"Goten?" Trunks' whispered word was obscenely loud in the deathlike quiet of the room. The young man shook his head and when he finally turned his concealed face to look at his counterpart it was highlighted by the pallid lamplight and streaked with glistening tears.

"Dende, Trunks, are you really that ashamed of me?" His light eyes opened wide at the betrayed expression that burdened his lover's graceful features. Trunks took three hurried steps toward his fellow Saiyan and stopped, staring down at the carpet line that divided the bedroom from the wooden floor of the kitchen and bath like it was a physical barrier that stood between them.

"Goten, I-I don't know what you mean--"

"Dammit, Trunks," the dark haired man ground out the words in obvious frustration, balling his fists into the soft cotton contrast of the bedcovers. "I am not a child! I know why you keep 'working late'." He glared angrily at the bewildered demi-Saiyan. "You don't want to be seen here! What would the world think if they saw their beloved president of Capsule Corporation living downtown in the middle of hell with his gay lover!"

Trunks fell backward with a wounded look plastered to his paling features.

"Goten, that's not true, I just--"

"What," the younger man snarled, punching the bed. But his heart wasn't in it. He didn't even bust a spring. "What, you just have things to do? Bullshit, Trunks. You don't want anyone else to know about us. That's why we live here," he emphasized his remark with a grand, mocking sweep of the room that was barely larger than a prison cell, "in an apartment that should have been condemned over fifty years ago. Good Dende, Trunks, I love you probably more than I should, but I just can't live like this anymore...I can't come home to this place every evening and wonder when you're coming back. I just can't...I'm tired of sounding like my mother." His frantic voice broke in spite of his best efforts and he clutched his ebony hair in his fists, crushing his palms to his watering eyes.

~These foolish games are tearing me apart...~

There was a cool wetness against his thigh through the cotton of his sweat pants as the bed gave beside him. A trembling hand smoothed its way over his quivering shoulder blades and Goten fought not to sob harder at the tender touch.

"Koi--" His heart skipped and he lost the battle for control as a whimpered cry broke stubbornly through his fragile defenses. The hand on his back stopped just below his spine and he heard his lover sigh before beginning again.

"Koi, if this is about money, I can bring more home...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so inconsiderate...I-I just..."

Goten's breath exhaled bitterly as he brought his eyes to those of his counterpart. "It's not about money, Trunks. You just don't want your father to find out," he finished for him quietly, casting his gaze downward at the fingers he twisted thoughtlessly in his lap. A shrug of his shoulders and the complacent hand fell away to drop on the bed.

"I know that, Trunks. But I want to tell my family. I want to be able to walk down the street and hold your hand." Dammit, his eyes were tearing again and the crystal droplets cascaded in rivulets down over the sharp angle of his cheekbones to lose themselves in the folds of his navy t-shirt.

Trunks cleared his throat huskily, glancing over at the window and beyond, to the curtain of rain that blanketed the urban setting.

"I know, koi, but...just give me a little more time and I will, I swear..." Goten barked out what should have passed as a laugh and nodded once.

"Yeah. Tell him like you did last time, ne, Trunks?"

~And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart.~

The man beside him stilled, almost inhumanly silent. "Goten..." Shit, he sounds like a whipped puppy. Damn you, Trunks! Why does this always have to be so hard? "You don't understand...my father...I don't think he'd approve and he might...hurt you."

Goten's anger flared to a brilliant level. It was a wonder his hair and eyes retained their natural colour.

"That's crap, Trunks," he hissed, gripping the man's arm and forcing him to look him in the eye. "How dare you use that as an excuse. You're just afraid."

It was amazing how quickly Trunks exchanged his sorrowed guilt for indignant rage. How much he looked like his father.

"Goten," he growled, eyes narrowing through a sheer film of lavender locks. "You know that's not true--you know it. It's not the same in your family. You have another sibling--a straight sibling. At least when your mother finds out she'll have your brother to turn to for grandchildren. I don't have that, Goten! You know how much it means to my father to carry on the Saiyan bloodline. I can't do this to him."

"But you can do it to me." The slighter demi-Saiyan abandoned his fighting spirit, shoulders hunching inward to himself. He shook his head from side to side, eyes glazed and staring at the floor. "I don't want to fight with you anymore, Trunks. I just want...you." His last word resounded in the watery black depths of his eyes as he sought out the contrasting blue of his lover.

~You're breaking my heart...~

The taller man seemed to deflate, releasing the fleeting grip on his own instinctive anger. He clasped the warm hands with a clammy palm, curling his fingers around them and squeezing lightly.

"I know, Goten," he replied weakly, pressing warm lips to the throbbing temple of his distressed counterpart. "I'm sorry, koi. I'll tell him soon, I promise, just don't cry...please koi...You know I can't stand to see you cry..."

He was exhausted--emotionally and physically. Goten felt strong, protective arms wrap around his body and he allowed himself the comfort of the other man's caressing touch and masculine scent lull him into a restless slumber.

~*~*~*~
Goten awoke alone, the faded blue comforter tucked securely around his huddled form. His eyes were crusted with the aftereffects of his emotional breakdown and he dismissed the stabbing hunger pains in his stomach as he rubbed the grit and sand from his lids. The scent that aroused his senses made him want to both cry and scream. Nicotine. Trunks was working again. He didn't have to ask what was keeping him awake.

Throwing his long legs over the edge of the bed and pushing the quilt to the mattress behind him, the demi-Saiyan yawned, stretching his muscled arms toward the ceiling and arching his back. Sighing, the young man turned toward the far corner of the apartment where a soft blue glow emanated, casting thick black silhouettes of his lover against the white of the wall. The man had changed out of his wet attire into a loose fitting pair of indigo gi pants. Trunks did not turn as he approached, so engrossed was he in his work, the rapid rat-a-tap of his skilled fingers on the keyboard only pausing occasionally to remove the cigarette from his mouth, flicking the ashes into the tray beside the computer.

~You were always brilliant in the morning, smoking your cigarettes
And talking over coffee...~

Goten pressed his lips tightly against the flurry of emotion that crashed through his weary system. Trunks looked so beautiful in the eerie light of the small screen, his elegant fingers tracing over familiar paths on the keyboard. He passed the window he had occupied earlier in the evening, noting that the constant rain had momentarily ceased. Weak grey light filtered uninhibited through the square pane, confirming his suspicions. It may have stopped for the moment, but the rain would return. It always did.

Trunks groaned and leaned back as strong arms entwined around his neck. The Saiyan smile he adored greeted Goten as his lover swiveled around in his chair to return his affection. Suddenly he was caught up in a tremendous embrace, pulled swiftly into the awaiting lap. Satin lips were at his ear, wide hands stroking his back and thighs, effectively pinning him to the seated form.

"You know I love you, koi, don't you?" Trunks question was laden with uncertainty and sincere apology as he crushed the smaller man to his chest.

Goten's smile was soft and endearing as he ran loving fingers through Trunk's silky lavender strands.

"Yeah...I know." He pulled back after a prolonged moment of simply basking in his lover's uncharacteristic attention. A quick glance over the bare shoulder of his counterpart gave credence to his thoughts. The small, black numerical digits glared obtrusively at him from the right bottom corner of the screen.

"It's early, Trunks. Couldn't sleep?" The back of his fingers danced playfully down the angle of his bronze cheek as the other man nodded, idly stroking the length of Goten's thigh through his black sweats.

"I was working on something mama started..." The shear sadness of the expression on his lover's face before it was lost under a light wave of purple was enough to cause his soul to mourn.

"You still miss her, don't you?" The man nodded, absently twirling a loose thread that hung from the hem of Goten's shirt around his forefinger.

"Yeah. I know it's stupid," He hushed his lover's obvious response by placing a tanned finger to his full lips. "It's been five years, Goten..." He shrugged, attempting a smile at the loving desperation so blatantly displayed in the other's black eyes. "It's just hard to believe she's gone, you know? I work on her projects all the time--like this one." Trunks turned the chair suddenly, one arm supporting Goten, who perched precariously on the hard muscle of his thigh.

Two fluently punched keys brought a new dialogue box forward, covered in thick, mathematical code. Trunks met Goten's arched brow with a slight blush.

"You know I can't read that, smarty pants."

"Oh, yeah..." Another easily typed command and the screen revealed a detailed diagram of something mechanical, and, Goten was sure, probably the product of pure genius.

~Your philosophy on art, Baroque moved you, you loved Mozart
And you'd speak of your loved ones as I clumsily strummed my guitar...~

Goten hardly followed Trunks as he launched into an enthusiastic explanation of Bulma-san's experimentations. The man was amazing when he got really involved with his work. Though, the young Son thought a trifle selfishly, I wish he was as obsessed with me as he is with this. He knew the older man used this as a means of escape, and he hated pulling him away from that, but he felt like he was losing him to his mother's impressive memory. He could not complete with a dead woman.

Toying with a few light wisps of hair on the back of his lover's neck, Goten reveled in the singular sensation of simply being this close to the other demi-Saiyan.

It's been so long since he held me like this...Dende, Trunks, you can speak forever, just don't let me go...

~You'd teach me of honest things, things that are daring, things that are clean,
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean...~

Goten sighed quietly as his lover continued in his one-sided dialogue. He knew why Trunks was idolized by so many--he was intellectually superior to everyone else on the planet. Including the younger man sitting in his lap. It was not merely his heritage that had handed him the revered title of Capsule Corp. president. The man was a damned genius.

But you're not happy, are you, love? Remember when we were younger? You were so much easier to talk to then. And we...we did things together, even if it did get us into trouble. But you--we were happy. What changed, Trunks?

Biting his lip against a sudden onslaught of tears, Goten buried his face in his lover's soft, inviting hair. He wasn't worthy of Trunks. The man deserved someone who could keep up with him intellectually, who could really appreciate him for what he was. Not some stupid backwoods fighter that had barely passed high school and earned his living playing with his band in clubs during the week. It wasn't difficult to figure out why he was unhappy.

~So I hid my soiled hands behind my back.
Somewhere along the line I must have gone off track with you.~

"...finally figured out the equation she was missing--Goten? Is something wrong?" Trunk's plaintive inquiry jerked the young Son out of his self-induced stupor. Curious blue eyes searched his own for an answer, violet brow drawing down over his nose as the reason for his lover's mood swing evaded him.

"Am I boring you, Goten?" He squeezed black eyes shut determinedly against burning tears. He despised feeling like this. There was a time when Trunks had made him feel special, wanted...now he constantly saw himself as a burden to his counterpart. He almost said it was ok, almost passed it off as something that he could excuse. But he was tired of feeling like he was unwanted, unappreciated. And this time he wasn't about to stay smiling and silent.

"Trunks, what are we doing?" The crease in his forehead deepened and he watched with an open mouth as Goten slid off his thigh.

"Well, I was trying to explain--"

"Not that," Goten cut through his flimsy words with a razor edged tone. Looking down severely at the other demi-Saiyan he spread his palms wide in a gesture of pleading. "You're not happy with this arrangement. Dammit, Trunks, I only see you for a few brief moments every day--you refuse to meet me in public, even for something as harmless as lunch." The man opened his mouth to speak, but he simply wasn't fast enough for the lightening speed of Goten's anger.

"You're so damn worried about your reputation! What will others think, what will your father say--have you even asked him, Trunks? I really don't think you give him enough credit--"

"You know nothing about my father!"

"No, I don't," Goten replied, stepping forward as his lover lurched to his feet, upsetting the chair as he did. "Because you never talk about him!"

The demi-Saiyan swallowed, whipping a hand through his silky hair and growling down at the other man. "Why is this suddenly such a big deal, Goten? All I ever hear anymore is your incessant complaining about one thing or another! Why the hell can't you just leave me alone!?"

~Excuse me, think I'm mistaking you for somebody else
Somebody who gave a damn, somebody more like myself.~

The room was silent as the youngest Son sat down heavily on the bed, stunned. In the vague background of his mind he noticed the slight patter of raindrops on the window. "I don't know what to do anymore, Trunks...You take for granted that I'm just going to wait for you to come around." Goten looked up to see the scowling profile of his lover. "It's been three years, Trunks," he continued in a softer, dejected tone. "Three years and...you haven't..." He drew a deep calming breath, fiddling with his fingernails. "I used to feel your devotion when you made love to me..." The feeling of Trunk's eyes on him as he bent his head caused his voice to waver. "Now, it's just sex. You never hold me anymore. You never make me feel like I mean something to you." Dark eyes snapped up to latch onto narrow blue ones. "I know you care about me, Trunks. I've known since we were children, but even I don't deserve to live like this. I've been extremely patient about you telling your father, but I'm tired of living like your personal whore!"

~And these foolish games are tearing me, they're tearing me, they're tearing me apart...~

Goten wanted so much for the tense and silent man on the other side of the room to walk over and hold him as he cried. But he didn't. Shaking his dark head, he wiped weakly at the tears in his eyes with the back of his hand. "I thought, if I gave you time, you'd do it on your own, but...Life's just too short to live it in fear, Trunks. And I'm done doing that."

The demi-Saiyan's taller form was quivering in the milky light of the window--with rage, guilt, sadness-Goten couldn't tell, and searching his eyes proved mutually unrewarding. He felt like he was going to throw up, the queasiness of the entire situation coupled with his sorry state made the world spin in his vision and the bile burn in the back of his throat; he knew he'd given the man an ultimatum that he could not rescind. He just prayed to Dende that he had the strength to follow through if he needed to.

~And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart...~

It was a long time before either of them spoke; the white noise of the outside rain was broken only by the occasional ill suppressed hiccup of Goten's sobs.

Trunks' gaze was indiscernible as he walked purposefully to the door, grabbing his damp coat from the chair and throwing it across his shoulders, jerking his arms through the sleeves. The next instant, and his shoes were on his feet and he was turning toward the entryway.

Goten stood, his tears forgotten in the unbelievable prospect of his lover leaving. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, depriving him of the ability to think coherently.

"Trunks? Wh-where are you going?"

He hardly recognized the man who turned to face him, but he certainly was able to translate the myriad of emotions that ravaged his features. Anger, betrayal, guilt, sadness, pride...

"You obviously don't want me here, Goten. So I'm saving you the trouble of leaving by doing it myself."

~You're breaking my heart...~

"What? Trunks, wait, that's not what I meant!" The older man thrust his keys into his pocket with venomous force, rounding on the other demi-Saiyan.

"I heard you, Goten. You think I don't love you anymore, that I don't care for you, or give you what you think you deserve. That's complete shit, Goten--" A tan hand reached for the round, brass doorknob.

"Then tell me that, Trunks," the dark haired demi-Saiyan cried, clutching at his coat sleeve like a frantic child. "Don't just leave!"

Pale blue eyes softened for only a moment before they crystallized into polished ice.

"I can't give you what you want, Goten. Not yet. You ask too...too much."

In a swirl of movement and a back draft flush of wind, the door was shut and he was gone, leaving Goten nothing save the soft, lingering scent of wet wool and spring rain.


Song: Foolish Games by Jewel