Kyo To Ashita
by Hentai Institute     More by this Writer
What happens on Gohan’s wedding day?

The song Gohan sings in the beginning is Magic Man, by Heart – in case you’re curious.

Written by Angelus

“Cold late night so long ago, when I was not so strong you know…” The lavender prince watched in affectionate amusement as the dark haired demi-Saiyan sung with passionate abandon into the thick bristle brush held tightly in his left hand. Leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, the older man allowed an uncharacteristic smile to grace his sterner features. Kami, he was beautiful when he thought no one was watching…when he loosened up and the uptight little boy got to put away his books and lace up his dancing shoes.

“A pretty man came to me, never seen eyes so blue…” Flatterer. A loving chuckle played a bass harmony to the younger demi-Saiyan’s higher pitch as the Son pivoted before the glass mirror, gentle ebony eyes lidded with the fervor in which he vocalized his excitement. He was the only person the pale prince knew that sang when he got nervous…

“I could not run away – it seemed we’d seen each other in a dream…” Something like that, the voyeur thought with a casual smile, slender fingers absently tapping his bicep; a padded accompaniment to his other half’s song and dance routine. “It seemed like he knew me – he looked right through me!” There are differences, koibito, but you have never disappointed me…

The unsuspecting serenading Son clutched the wooden handle in both hands as he launched into the chorus with admirable vigor. “‘Come on home, boy!’ he said with a smile, “You don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high awhile…” Shaking his silken head, the man re-crossed his ankles; gazing, enrapt and enamoured of the sensuous being that curled one arm around the bedpost, dipping with serpentine quality over the covered mattress. Heh, it was a good thing Dende wasn’t aware of the seductive spectacle the younger man was enticingly displaying on his bed. The little Namek would’ve had a fit.

“‘But try to understand, try to understand, try, try, try to understand – I’m a magic man!'” Laughter escaped the purse of his lips as he pushed off from the jamb, shoving his hands into the soft cotton pockets of his gi pants. Stopping abruptly, the Son’s huge ebony eyes betrayed his capture; the enormity of his embarrassing act causing him to lose his balance, falling backward onto the quilted coverlet with a soft squeak.

“Trunks!” Smiling, the prince sauntered over to his sputtering counterpart, sidling onto the edge of the bed as the other demi-Saiyan sat up, a crimson highlight of classic Son humility decorating his elegant cheekbones. “How long have you been there?” Coyly concealed eyes of shimmering obsidian regarded him with urgent hope that was clasped futilely and in vain.

“Long enough to remember why I’m here today…” That rich scarlet tone deepened as those sparkling eyes he adored so much swallowed the intricate embroidery on the ancient comforter.

“Why aren’t you getting dressed, pretty boy?” The younger demi-Saiyan questioned with a touch of playful hostility. Shrugging powerful shoulders, the prince brushed aside a renegade tendril of pastel disobedience, leaning more comfortably on one hand that spread artistic fingers through the plush down of the quilt.

“Wanted to see my baby.” The younger man’s eyes flashed toward the doorway, fingers surrendering the forgotten brush to the luxury of the carpet below.

“How’d you get past my mother?” Pearly whites flashed vibrantly as the figure bent to retrieve his lover’s discarded article, hand sliding suggestively down the impressive muscle of his counterpart’s thigh. Straightening to liquid pools of lascivious sable, a wicked gleam slashed mischievous indigo through the pure periwinkle of his eyes.

“Does it matter, love? I’m here now…and we have time before the ceremony…” The Son’s meager protests were sacrificed to the moist cavern of tender carnality that ravaged his own willing lips. A soft growl of assertion, broad hands on his shoulders, and the pastel demi-Saiyan was forced to reluctantly relinquish his fixation before he was fully able to appreciate the delicacy that was his more refined lover.

“You want to fuck me on god’s bed?” A shoulder jerked his indifference before his determined mouth sought its interlocking companion. Hell, he didn’t care if it was his father’s bed; the young sovereign just knew he’d never live through the next few hours if he didn’t get a taste of those succulent lips that parted so enticingly in invitation…

The darker man didn’t struggle as Trunks guided them both toward the immaculate headboard, one knee lodged firmly between his young lover’s thighs as his hands tangled around the thin material barrier that wrapped around the man’s wrists, thumb seducing a beautiful moan from a throat arched backward with indulgent lust.

“You taste like mint,” the Son murmured quietly, mouthing the sensitive curve behind the lavender haired demi-Saiyan’s ear as his fingers curled and fisted against the reverent ministrations of his patient counterpart.

“Needed a cigarette,” the older man responded against the rising and falling of his lover’s chest, bathing the creamy pallor with the tedious strokes of his worshiping tongue. Kami, his flavor was divine; vanilla and musk, with a light permanence of soap and aftershave…must’ve just showered…

“Oi! Go-” Lusty eyes of deepening midnight and sharpening dusk flew upward at the jingle of the door handle; the hastily offered announcement, the sudden presence of the eldest Son in the entryway, large hand clasping the crystal knob that should have been locked…

The blushing prince wasn’t all too sure when his hands had descended to his lover’s sash, when the man beneath him had managed to undo his belt buckle and snapped the binding that kept his silken hair from spilling over his shoulders. Sitting upright on his counterpart’s waist, the man skilfully avoided hitting his head on the crossbeams that canopied above him. Thank Dende the last Kami had been taller…

“Goku-san!” Cobalt spheres blinked in avid surprise as the man’s brow drew down in a gesture of severe chastisement.

“Trunks…you know you’re supposed to wait to see each other…” The form that lay so temptingly below him stirred, shifting forward to prop both elbows behind him.

“Gomen nasai, Tousan…we were just…uh…” Kami, he was cute when he chewed his lower lip like that…

“I know what you were about to do. Now scram, Trunks. He has to get ready, and so do you.” Nodding solemnly, the older demi-Saiyan heaved a lengthy sigh, pulling forth a smile for his counterpart as the darker haired man promised him reconciliation with a wink. Throwing his legs over the side of the majesty of the bed, the resigned prince began slipping his belt back into place, ducking his head to overcome the overhang of frills and lace that comprised the canopy. Who the hell decorated…oh, right, Popo.

“Is he here yet?” The fairer demi-Saiyan asked with latent hope as he approached the older Saiyan, fingers still fumbling to fasten the clasp at his waist. Apologetic eyes hardened within seconds of their silent declaration, that infamous Son determination shining like the very light of god himself.

“No…but he’ll be here if I have to knock him out and sling him over my shoulder.” Finding humor in the image, the Saiyan heir chuckled, trailing a slim hand through his long lavender locks. Damn it, now he’d have to find another tie before…

“Leave it down,” the request was quietly spoken from the bed, a glance over his shoulder testing his flimsy resolution. Kami, the man was amazingly seductive…his shirt slipping the slightest way down the muscle of his shoulder, his evocative eyes proclaiming with unabashed assurance that their play would continue after…

“Hai…here.” Reaching into the depths of his pants pocket, the blue eyed bishounen withdrew a small package that crinkled as his fingers flipped open the soft paper latch. Smacking out one of the thin, minty cigarettes onto the back of his hand, the young Ouji flicked the cylindrical object of his addiction toward the bed, chancing a grin as the other man caught it with a knowing look. “You’ll need that later…”

“Hai…” Kami save him but it was hard as hell to leave the room, to walk past the confused form of his lover’s father and not shove the Saiyan back through the entrance, seal the lock, and lose himself to that ebony embrace of soft lips and muffled cries…

Soon, he soothed the irrational craving with tempered patience, gluing light eyes to the reflective white of the floor before him. He’d waited this long…a few more hours was hardly going to kill him. Pausing in the shadow of the door, the unwilling demi-Saiyan lifted a hand to the frame, snagging those wide, wondering eyes over the ball of his shoulder, feasting on their decadence for another luxurious moment, then succumbing to the will of the watchful Saiyan and departing…but not before he blew the kneeling figure on the bed a kiss of suggestion…and promise…

Later, lover…

***

Scooting to the edge of the bed, the demi-Saiyan exhaled a soft sigh, fingers caressing the fragile item in his hand; bringing it to his nose. Taking a deep indulgent breath, the raven-eyed Son met the sparkling indigo of his counterpart. Kami, how he loved the scent…mint and nicotine…so him…He lay the reminder gently on the furniture, turning toward the mirror that held all the presence of a fairy tale made real.

Mirror, mirror on the wall…

Although…today was saturated with that sentiment. He never would have thought to stumble on his prince, but here he was, completely smitten and only hours away from…

A flower of a smile burst its anticipatory petals over his youthful features as the door clicked shut. It was almost time…Gripping the hem of his shirt, the dark haired man jerked it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it carelessly over the chair situated before the bureau. Though why god needed a mirror was beyond him…

“I didn’t think you smoked…” His cheeks almost ached with the extent of his happiness. Arching brows toward his puzzled elder image in the glass before him, the Son removed his sash; the dark, worn fabric pooling around his feet, a color so close to his hair…

“I don’t, Otousan.” Stepping free of the material, the young man reached for the slacks he had previously and meticulously draped over the top of the looking glass; giving them a preliminary shake, one foot sliding down the smooth charcoal shaft to be swiftly joined by the other. Tugging the slick garment over his slender hips, the demi-Saiyan hummed quietly to himself, quirking a sunny smile at his father as he sat heavy on the bed behind him.

“Huh…” Shrugging, the older Saiyan rubbed idly at the back of his neck, pulling at his starched collar. “Damn this thing is hot…don’t know why I can’t wear my gi…”

Laughing softly at the constancy of the eldest Son, the demi-Saiyan stretched his arm through the cool, smooth material of his fanciful shirt; the most formal thing he’d worn since high school. Ok, so that was two years ago but those seven hundred and thirty days had been the most enjoyable of his entire life. Ever since Trunks had swept him, almost literally, off his feet…

“You know Kaasan would kill you, Tousan. I don’t care either way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear anything else, come to think of it…” Abandoning his buttoning task, the younger Son joined his fiddling father on the bed. Glancing sideways, the demi-Saiyan gnawed in concentration on his lower lip. “Still no sign of Vegeta-san?” The change in his full-blooded counterpart was amazing to behold, childlike eyes of wondering ebony crystallizing to obsidian shards; the fingers at the opening of his powder blue suit falling to lie clenched in his lap.

“No…I’ve searched for his ki but the little bastard’s managed to hide himself.” A veined fist slammed with untapped fury into the Saiyan’s opposite palm, sable brow drawing down over eyes of unyielding ebony. “I don’t know why he has to be so stubborn all the time. It’s not like it’s everyday his son gets married.” A mutual growling sigh was shared in the emptiness of the expansive chamber, the demi-Saiyan casting weary eyes to the gilded lace of interwoven seams on the taunt material above him.

“It means so much to him…I wonder why Vegeta-san is being so difficult…” A broad, familiar palm rested heavily on his satin-clad shoulder, persuading the young man’s gaze downward.

“I don’t pretend to know, Go-chan,” The man smiled at the affectionate title not bestowed upon him since chibi-hood. “But you know you have my blessing, ne?” Kami, damn it…he was not going to cry, not today of all days…

“Hai, Daddy,” he whispered hoarsely, accepting the other’s fierce embrace with a hearty squeeze of his own. “Arigato…” Sniffling as he drew back, the younger man wiped at the scalding tears that dried on the high planes of his cheekbones.

“No problem,” Goku’s eyes discarded their Saiyan sheen as they dropped down into his lap, fingers plucking at the thick blue material of his blazer. “I know I haven’t been the best father, Go-chan…” The smile tightened as the raven-haired lad fought the compulsion to allow more of those salty drops to congregate. Gently placing his emotion-trembling hand on the larger Saiyan’s light blue sleeve, the demi-Saiyan curled his fingers, offering his silent support to the contemplative man at his side. “But I’ve always been proud of you.” Dark eyes that had given him life rose resolutely, impounding his statement into their tearful replica. “You know that, right?”

“Hai, Otousan.” The words were spoken softly, yet with traditional Son conviction.

“And even if I wasn’t there…” The shame was evident by the slight drop of his head, the regret that tainted his words like the metallic veil of oil on water.

“Otousan…” Hopeful, yet resigned, the man lifted his mussed obsidian head. Heh, no matter how much taming gel his mother wrestled into his mane, Son Goku was Saiyan first. There was no such word as tame, in regards to anything about the man. “It’s alright, I know.” Golden and pure, like sunlight on snow, the older man broke into smile, crushing his boy in another breath depriving hug that left the demi-Saiyan light headed and light hearted. “O…tou…san…crushing…me…”

“Oi! Gomen na, Go-chan!” Innocence revealed by the hand swallowed in the mass of sable was enough to banish the last sweet tear.

“S’ok, Tousan…” Liquid eyes of inquisitive onyx swept the room as his father moved to stand. “Oi, where’s Otoutochan? I thought he’d be here…” The Saiyan planted both palms down on his knees at he strained to raise his considerable bulk.

“Out helpin’ Chichi with the food ‘n flowers n’ stuff.” Wrinkling his brow, the younger Son began to challenge his shirt anew; voicing his irritation in soft, censored curses as the evasive plastic disks slipped through his large Son hands.

“Still insisted, ne? We told her it was no trouble…” An uncharacteristic snort vied for his attention, and his shirt was left for another round.

“You know your mother…She and Bulma have all but said ‘I do’. You’d think it was their wedding…” Blinking into the unsatisfied darkness of his father’s usually bright eyes, the younger man scrutinized the other’s guarded features. Son Goku just hadn’t been himself lately; both he and his fiancé had noticed – lackluster black had replaced the energized ebony, and it seemed that the only time he was known to show any kind of interest nowadays was in the company of Vegeta.

Vegeta…oi, could he…nah…

“Is everything alright with you and Kaasan, Tousan?” The question was tossed cautiously into the void between them, the demi-Saiyan feeling for the brush that lay solitary on the sea of wrinkled blankets beside him. He’d have to straighten the bed before Dende came back or the Namek would think that he and Trunks had –

“Fine.” Lie. “Why?” Shrugging, scratching the course bristles against his opposing palm, the man pulled one leg up under him on the mattress.

“I dunno, Tousan…” Dende, he’d just taken a shower, it shouldn’t have been this much of a task to get a bloody brush through his hair. “You just seem…” He gestured absently, combing the air for the word he sought to describe his parent’s decline in mood, “Kinda distant lately. Like you’re not happy…” Keen raven eyes regarded him with quiet understanding. “Is it Vegeta-san, Tousan?” He honestly didn’t expect such a violent reaction. The man all but went Super Saiyan right before his stunned and staring eyes.

“Nani?! No! It has nothing to do with that arrogant, egotistical, self-absorbed…” Chuckling, finishing the brisk stroke through his uncooperative hair, the younger man nodded tolerantly as his father ranted on about the idiosyncrasies of a man he absolutely despised, abhorred, couldn’t stand.

Right.

“Well, Tousan…”

“Son.” Both pairs of answering eyes flickered toward the doorway, heads tilting in question as the caped figure remained statuesquely in the wooden frame.

“Hai, Piccolo-san?” Goku was the first to respond, the other’s gut tightening in an apprehensive fluttering of butterflies and goose flesh that left him pale and in breathing.

“It’s time.” Kami-sama, but the stoic Namek could make even ice cream sound ominous. What a gift.

And then the words sunk in.

Time.

Now.

“Nani?!” The Son shot to his feet, head smacking mercilessly against the border of the bed. Who the hell put a damn canopy on god’s bed — when in hell did the little man find the time to even sleep? Clutching his throbbing head, the man cracked open one irate eye. “But I’m not ready! I have to get my shoes, and my shirt, and -” The man felt with frantic fingers along the crown of his head, wincing as they encountered the site of his recent collision. “Where the hell are my glasses?!”

Piccolo strode purposefully into the room, white fabric billowing with the force of his own wind; a whip snap of sound, a quiet rush of mystic air.

“Boy.” Clawed fingers gripped his shoulders and his head jerked heavenward to gaze in blank panic at the taller form. “You don’t wear glasses.”

The words reclined on the disbelieving ruby of his boyish embarrassment.

“Oh, right.”

“Loosen up, ne?” His father’s ever-present plastered happiness was once again in place, his jesting words twirling in the whirlpool of his own anxiety. It was too soon, he’d thought he’d had more time to prepare, to get ready, to breathe, god Kami-sama…

And damned if he could get the traitorous buttons on his shirt to obey his desperation!

“Button, damn you!”

“Baka.” Nimble fingers were agile and efficient in their gloved glory, leaving the boy dumbstruck and silent as the sudden appearance of the Saiyan no Ouji eliminated the obstacle with no obvious effort.

“Vegeta, where -”

“Leave us.” The two men that flanked him eyed the newcomer with blatant distrust, though the Namek only grunted his agitation before pivoting where he stood and giving the trio his wind whipped back. His father, however, seemed in no mood to take orders from his “high prince”.

“Damn it, Vegeta, where the hell have you been? Trunks -”

“I have already spoken to the boy, Kakarott; I have no obligation to explain my actions to you!” The prince dismissed the seething figure with a derisive jerk of his head. “Now leave us!” He would have gladly retreated himself had the Ouji not maintained a firm grip on his partially buttoned attire; shocked eyes flashing from one obstinate form to the other, waiting for the dazzlement of fireworks they had strictly declined as part of the ceremony.

“Fine, have it your way, you spoiled little brat.” Onyx eyes widened in indignation, the elegant fingers entwined in his shirt fisting, tightening…cutting off his…air supply…

“Ve…ge…ta…sa…ma…” But Saiyan eyes were locked in a stubborn clash of titan will, neither yielding to the staring power of the other. Kami, he was going to die…fingers pawed at the flexing might of white in his shirt, dazed eyes blinking back the darkness that championed the prince like a royal crest. “One…gai…” Damn it…well, at least he wasn’t going to die a virgin…

The hand relented abruptly, the demi-Saiyan falling back on his heels; clasping at the offending wrist now to maintain his awkward balance. There were too many brilliant sparkles igniting in his vision for him to witness his father’s departure, signified to his gradually illuminated consciousness by the shuddering slam of the bedroom door that had ancient plaster raining from the ceiling.

“Hn. Bakayaro.” The younger man’s eyes focused with reluctant clarity, starting backward as the wrathful little Ouji turned his iron gaze forward. “Now listen up, brat. I’m only going to say this once.” Swallowing hard at the malicious tinge of outright threatening that permeated his perpetual rage, the Son nodded mutely, unable to contradict the inflexible will of the Saiyan sovereign.

“You hurt my boy,” a violent jerk adjusted his skewed and botched attempt at buttoning. “You break his heart…” Ebony eyes widened with unnerving understanding as the petite prince continued to manipulate his maniacal clasps. “And I’ll break every,” the Son almost lost his balance as he was wrenched forward, “Bone,” those slender fingers crept up his front with all the speed of a weaving spider, “In your,” he was almost insanely positive that his brows had ascended into his hairline, “Body.” The Saiyan no Ouji’s deft ministrations ended, slipping the single button on his straight collar home; the gloved tips curling under the hem and commanding the figure to eye level. “Twice,” Vegeta hissed through savage, flawless teeth. “Understood?”

If it had been hard to breathe before, the thought itself was a completely foreign concept to the Son now that he was nose to nose with the undeniably protective father of his soon to be mate. Guess it was true…you just don’t fuck with royalty…

“H-hai, Vegeta-sama! Hai!” Nodding as much as movement was allowed in his confined state, the younger man’s sincerity was evident by the width of his eyes and the tremulous whatever-you-say-please-don’t-kill-me tone that was readily applied to his ghostly countenance.

“Good.” The fingers at his throat unfurled with a promptness that had the demi-Saiyan staggering back against the chair behind him, hand slipping along the back as the digits fought for purchase over the forgotten garment. Saved by his own dexterity, the young man began to haul himself to his feet as he warily watched the older Saiyan caress his hairless chin in thought. Seeming to kick the ass of his internal conflict, the arrogant prince turned stern; hooded eyes upon his future son-in-law. “Get off the floor, boy. If you’re going to be the mate of a prince of Vegeta-sei, you’re damn well going to act like it.” Somehow finding the nerve to portray his acquiescence, the demi-Saiyan swallowed with difficulty, straightening his collar with a dignified hand.

“Gomen nasai, Vegeta-sama…” He’d never seen the man behave like this before – he never would have thought the prince to care about his ‘bastardized human offspring’ enough to actually go to such an extreme…

“Don’t apologize, just get off your ass. I have something to give you.” Furrowing a wondering brow, the boy gained his precarious footing; taking an uncertain stride toward the shorter Saiyan.

“Nani…” Onyx chips glittered in indisputable authority as the self proclaimed prince drove a covered hand into the depths of his worn navy shirt, emerging a moment later with a studiously folded piece of blue lined notebook paper.

“Here.” The multi-creased and crumpled page was thrust before his glossy raven eyes, a hand reaching upward of its own volition to receive the object before the Saiyan again crossed his arms, scowl locked in place, muttering annoyances as the other man quietly revealed the treasure within.

“Nani…?” Thin and black, the words crawled in a confident diagonal tilt across the pleats of the paper, and it took a moment for the demi-Saiyan to decipher the content of the message.

I will defend your honor…

Holy Kami fucking Dende.

“It’s what you asked for.” The statement was gruff, the aristocratic profile uncompromising as his deliverance was devoured by the enrapt obsidian eyes of his taller companion.

“Hai…” Breathless. Kami, he was breathless and grateful l- if he had been a braver man he would have hugged the Saiyan prince. “Domo arigato gozaimasu, Vegeta no Ouji…”

An onyx brow quirked suspiciously at his formality, gaze flickering down to the document held loosely in the demi-Saiyan’s grasp. “Just don’t fuck it up,” was all the welcome he was bestowed before the irritated Ouji stalked toward the door, kicking through the chalky white evidence of his father’s prior passage. Kami-sama, he prayed that Dende was a forgiving god…

“And kid…” The Son blinked dazed eyes upward at the mockingly playful tone, shaking his head to better concentrate on the man who clasped the glass handle of the grainy door.

“Huh?”

“Don’t forget to zip up your pants.”

***

The younger prince’s regal head rose from his memorization with a jerk as the tell-tale tap and agitated click of his father’s boots resounded in the hallow hall of Dende’s palace. Drawing breath in deeply, reveling in the icy wave of pure minty relaxation that traveled down his throat, coating his lungs with their comforting tendrils, the demi-Saiyan reluctantly released the smoke with a sigh.

“Is he almost ready?” An abrupt nod was all he received, the Ouji’s unfathomable eyes conquering the shadowy tiles outward, through the opening of the domed building to look with guarded gaze at the spectacle his mother was making of last minute arrangements. Glancing over the paper in his hand again, the young sovereign unconsciously tapped his cigarette against his thigh, ashy flakes falling like tainted snow on the milky floor. Clearing his throat, the hand that held his addiction drawing once over his lips in indecision; Trunks brushed back a strand of palest amethyst. “Otou-sama…”

Shock was defeated only by the suspicion that lurked omniscient in his unforgiving eyes. Viewing the silence as a signal to continue, the demi-Saiyan cast down his stress reliever; hair cascading over the round plane of his shoulders as he toed the minute fire out of existence. “I…wanted to thank you again…” Coughing uncomfortably, cobalt eyes forced themselves to stand strong under his parent’s steely gaze. “For coming…for this…” His hand lifted the sweat-stained paper he held, other palm wiping his condensing nervousness on the stark white of his colorless khakis. Summoning a courageous breath, the lavender prince slid trembling hands into his pockets, refusing to relinquish the hold he had on the ebony eyes that regarded him so disbelievingly. “Domo arigato, Tou-sama.”

“If you hug me, I’ll kill you.” The other man replied after a tense moment, arms folding habitually over his impressively muscled chest. Nodding in ardent agreement, crystal blue traced the obsidian path toward the entryway, listening as the muffled sounds of preparation reverberated against the arched ceiling.

The silence alone would have been enough to staunch his resolve…if it hadn’t been so familiar. There was something…companionable about it when it came to his father. Vegeta’s communication seemed to lie in his unwillingness to speak. The demi-Saiyan had become exceedingly adept at reading body language over the past few years…

“Oi! Trunks!” Ocean blue watched the giddy gait of his future father in law, a smaller version of his genius mother perched delightfully on one broad shoulder. A smile tugged at his anxious features as tiny, frill-enshrouded arms reached for him.

“N’chn!” Kami, that still got him…

“Oi, wait up, Bra-chan!” The taller Saiyan intercepted her destination with a patient laugh. “You don’t wanna mess him up, now, do you?” The toddler scrunched up her button nose, blinking at the stylized vision of her older brother.

“Look pwitty!” A pudgy finger emphasized her declaration with a stab that sent her toppling forward in Goku’s arms.

“Baka,” the Saiyan no Ouji scolded as he caught the floundering form, pulling her protectively against his chest. “How you raised two children is beyond me.”

“P’pa!” Her squeal was lost to the thick dip of cotton on their father’s shirt as he adjusted her squirming figure.

“Kiss off, Vegeta.” Periwinkle eyes turned uncomprehending sights on the docile Saiyan standing not a foot from him, hands fisted at his hips, onyx brow drawn over eyes too dark to belong to Son Goku…

“Why Kakarotto, I never knew…” Good Kami! Squinting his eyes the slightest bit, the demi-Saiyan scrutinized his insane elders. But the smirk on his father’s stern countenance and the challenging mockery in his fiance’s parent didn’t change. Huh, they weren’t fighting…they were sparring! How bizarre…

“Boys! No fighting!” Dual growls of irritation graced his ears as both Saiyans literally bristled, turning toward the interloping voice of the approaching blue-haired woman. Stepping backward further and deeper into the shadow of the building, Trunks chanced a grin of predatory indulgence. Better while they were occupied…that’s how he got away from the woman’s well-meant mothering the first time. Heh, maybe now he could find Go—

“Young man!” Cringing at the sheer pitch of his chastisement, his retreat was halted before the order to attack could even be given. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I…uh…”

“I don’t think Dende would appreciate you doing that on his bed, do you?” Great Kami-sama…it was a damn good thing crimson complimented his complexion so well…

“Goku!” Wincing visibly, the tall Saiyan raked a weary hand through disorderly ebony.

“Bulma -”

“Go play with your flowers and candy, woman,” the Saiyan no Ouji’s words were clipped and decisive as he pried the clinging blue bundle off his neck, turning his head to the side with a grimace as a wet, smacking chibi kiss was planted in the vicinity of his mouth. “And take this with you.” The woman was going to blow a fuse; he could already smell the faint acidic indications of her pending explosion.

“Bastard no Ouji!” Bra giggled with pure childish delight as she was snatched from the circle of her father’s arms and braced against the frustrated woman’s shoulder. Meandering hands automatically latched onto delicate blue wisps, finding no greater thrill than the pulling and sucking of the tediously styled strands. “Bra-chan! No! Don’t mess up Mama’s hair!”

Backing once more out of the awkward congregation, his flight was unexpectedly prohibited by the warm, familiar scent and limbs of his darker half at his back. Sighing softly as gentle hands caressed a languid path across the brilliant indigo of his button down, the paler prince was instantly deprived of the desire to care about any other fickle person in the room. This, this was constant, this was untainted and unbroken…this was what he lived for. Reclining his head back against the shoulder of his tender counterpart, Trunks breathed deeply of his comforting aura, the vanilla blending and merging with the heady mint of a cigarette newly lit…

“Miss me?” Sensuous words danced a whispering trail of heated breath over the curl of his ear and bright sky lit eyes succumbed to the darkness of his raven Son.

“Hai…” Conforming hands slid up to those interlaced at his navel, squeezing lightly as he simply reveled in the presence of his lover, the feathery kisses that twirled in heavenly mists of sensation against his neck, the strong body behind him that fit his back so perfectly…

“Good…” Chuckling as sable bangs brushed and tickled the moist valley of his neck, the demi-Saiyan leaned his head further, claiming a supple corner of questing lips…that at once responded to his fervent licks; fingers tracing the path of his buttons to stroke with affectionate dalliance on the distinct curve of his arched throat, the arm around his waist tightening, crushing his unresisting figure to that of his impassioned counterpart.

Kami-sama…everything he did, each movement of his sleek physique…seduced him…lips like satin, a velvet touch against skin bronzed by the fervor of a garish sun…

He had shed so many tears in anger and pain…

To feel them fall in happiness now was a relief.

He was home.

The dark-haired demi-Saiyan moaned quietly within the seal of their lips, relishing the intoxicating flavor of his older lover. The flesh beneath his caring caress quivering slightly as the man swallowed, lips closing with an adoring nip that had him falling in love all over again.

“Are you ready, love?” Kami-sama, he had never been so certain of anything before in his young life. This was bliss, holding his feline figure; feeling the gentle, subtle purr of contentment under his petting fingertips.

“Hai…” Blue…a shade recreated only in the earliest hours of the morning, before the sun was roused to shine; a hue so pure, so passionate, he was forced to remind himself to breathe…

“That is so sweet!” Damn it! It was so easy to forget that anyone else on the planet even existed. One look into those voids of liquid lapis and he was already too far gone to hope to do anything more than yield to the pampering of his senses.

Sooty lashes brushed against fevered cheeks as both demi-Saiyans straightened, fingers claiming fingers in a tangle of nervous perspiration. The young Son cleared his throat as he was tugged gently forward, through the gauntlet of staring eyes and toward the brilliance of shimmering sunlight that sparked off the polished tile.

“Let’s go, lover,” Trunks whispered quietly, thumb smoothing silken circles over the back of his hand. Bobbing his domesticated mane, the Son returned his quiet smile, finding it easier to ignore the mutterings of the older prince, the retaliating comments of his father, the incessant cooing of the woman to his left when lost within the antiqued ice of his fiancé’s benevolent gaze. I’ll follow you anywhere, Trunks…anywhere you want, my love…I’ll never let go…

“We are gathered here together to join these two men in the bonds of holy matrimony…” The Namekian Guardian’s softly spoken words were delivered to the ears of those assembled with the assistance of a gentle wind. Blushing against the attentive eyes that witnessed every anxious movement, the dark-haired demi-Saiyan fought not to fidget; obsidian eyes flashing upward to be captured and secured by cobalt counterparts. The amethyst Ouji leaned forward to snare his sweating palms, a patient smile tempering the rapid cadence that threatened to drown out the very vows that he had been waiting months to hear.

Months…since Trunks had taken him to the beach, and in the shallow dunes dusted golden by a seaside sunset had asked the younger man to share his life.

Damn romantic.

Grinning at the snapshot perfection, the demi-Saiyan curled his fingers more intensely around their slender companions. Kami-sama, he was in love! He suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw his head back and absolutely wail his happiness to the entire blasted world!

“I understand you have your own vows you’d like to recite…” Blinking upward from the hypnotic blue of his lover’s ocean eyes, the demi-Saiyan managed a small nod, calling the hastily scrawled words to mind as he summoned a shaky breath. Gaining strength through the hands he held, the man licked his lips, waiting with baited breath for his lover to begin the ritual Saiyan vows that the taciturn Ouji had given them.

“I…” the lavender prince’s voice faltered and those light eyes dropped to the interlace of their clenching fingers. Resolve flickered in determined fire as Trunks’ eyes fluttered upward to serenade his own. “I will defend your honor.”

“Your honor is my life,” the demi-Saiyan recited the phrase with a bubbling of pride. He had not been raised Saiyan, and yet…this felt undeniably right… “I will uphold your name.” My prince, my lavender lover, my pale eyed Ouji…my everything…I swear…

“Your name has gained respect.” Slick palms and trembling fingers conveyed their mutual apprehension, the irrepressible excitement. Kami-sama, they were doing it, they were saying it…they were getting…married…

“My loyalty is unbreakable,” the raven eyed demi-Saiyan murmured sincerely, rocking forward on his toes; suppressing the drumbeat of nerves and pulsing of exhilaration that had his stomach swimming, churning…fluttering…

“My trust is placed with faith.” Indigo and violet, sunrise and sunset, all things beautiful and meaningful…Trunks…

“My life for your life…” Kami, he had never uttered five words with more conviction, never allowed so much raw, unbridled emotion to be displayed within his obsidian eyes…

“My pride for your honor…” A Saiyan prince’s pride…so much to give…

“With blood, I provide.” Blood, breath…anything…

“With passion, I protect.” Kami-sama, I love you…

“My Ouji.” My prince…

“My Shujin.” My chosen…

Commanding a deep breath into his lungs, the young prince gripped his counterpart’s hand with genuine adoration, pronouncing the Saiyan words carefully. “Kyo to ashita.” Today, tomorrow, forever…however long you’ll keep me, love…I’m yours…

“Kyo to ashita.” Kami, he loved it when the man smiled…a brilliance unrivaled by even the magnificence of the midday sun on spotless white. Smiling into the ebony sparkle of ill contained emotion, the paler demi-Saiyan gave a playful jerk, receiving the other man with eager arms that wrapped reflexively around the sensuous contours of his waist.

“The bond has been forged.” The Namek formally proclaimed but he never had been religious, and Dende’s voice was easily discarded in favor of the younger man against his chest, the figure whose fingers threaded readily through violet strands that slipped like silk in his hand.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day…” Warm breath and soft fingers…begging lips…His chest veritably ached with the enormity of his sentiment, hands splayed across the muscled terrain of the darker demi-Saiyan’s back as he leaned forward, nose kissing the tip of his lover’s, the temptation of his mouth only inches away…

“Aishiteru, Son Gohan.”

***

“Eww! Trunks-kun! They’re kissing!”

“Of course they are, baka! It’s a wedding.”

“Oh…” Brow creased in monumental concentration, the nine-year-old pulled in annoyance at his stiff collar. “I didn’t know there’d be kissing…it’s disgusting.” His older-by-one-year-and-three-months companion shook short violet tendrils, arms folded awkwardly over his chest; the sleeves of his awful brown suit prohibiting the stance from being even remotely effective. Goten knew he did it just to look like his tousan anyway…

“Long has the circle been a sign of eternity…”

“Oi! Goten!” The boy at his side held out an expectant hand.

“Haaah?” Black and uncomprehending, Goten’s dazed eyes stared blankly at the palm before him.

“The rings!” The youngest prince hissed, one pale blue orb trained on the questioning Namek.

“Oh!” Scrambling through the treasure horde in his pockets, the youngest Son searched intently for the two diamonds in the rough. Lessee…marbles, string, pacifier—huh? Oh, right, Bra…hair pin, flower petal, piece of…well, that was anyone’s guess really…Mighty Mask action figure, chocolate kiss – ewwwww…that must’a been in there awhile…

“Go-ten!” Sniffling, streaks of melted candy left in the wake of his wiping fingers, the boy titled his unruly raven head back and wailed.

“I can’t find ’em, Trunks-kuuun!” Bottom lip trembling uncontrollably, he opened glistening onyx eyes toward his patient Oniichan. “G-gomen-na-nasai, Go-k-kun…”

“Baaakaaaa…”

“Uhhh?” Blinking back hasty tears, the boy’s mouth dropped slightly at the silver sight held triumphantly in the older demi-Saiyan’s hand. “Where’d you get ’em, Trunks-kun? I thought I had ’em…” Grinning like the trickster he was, the miniature Puck waved the glittery objects just out of arms reach of Goten’s grabby fingers.

“Uh, uh. You gotta give me something first, chibi…” Flushed cheeks were instantly aware of their audience, lip bitten in the following heartbeat, eyes cast down toward his shuffling shoes.

“Nani, Trunks-kun?” The mischief-maker flashed a victorious smile, baring his cheek for the other boy.

“Pucker up, chibi. Right here…” Brow creasing in confusion, the ebony-eyed demi-Saiyan leaned forward to inspect the offered side.

“What’s wrong with it?” An amused chuckle brought his gaze to the mirroring image of his older brother.

“I think he wants a kiss, Go-chan…” A kiss? But that was disgusting! Eyes wandering over the assemblage, the wide-eyed Son swallowed uncertainly. Whatever you want, Trunks-kun…

“Hn. Don’t think I’m going through this again in ten years. Damn brats…” Trunks laughed quietly as his father scrutinized his younger…brother.

“Aw, c’mon, Vegeta…it’s cute.”

“Yeah, Kakarott, about as cute as your as—” The man suddenly went deathly silent, the instinctual retort backfiring in a blaze of ruby across the bridge of his nose. Scowling, the Saiyan no Ouji jerked his head to the side, blatantly dismissing the inquisitive stares of the two women present. It didn’t surprise the lavender prince that Son Goku’s gaze was plastered to the tile – Popo may have cleaned the place to perfection but it wasn’t that interesting…

“Rings?” Dende’s prompt thankfully shattered the mounting tension between the two Saiyans. Kami, why didn’t they just kiss and get it over with?

“Yatta!” Slapping of small feet on the hard surface pulled a smile as Gohan knelt to receive the sticky form of his ecstatic sibling. “Got ’em, Oniichan!”

“Arigato,” his mate murmured into the unmanageable mass of sable that topped his younger brother’s head. Candy coated fingers left their chocolate mark on the back of his counterpart’s shirt as the hug was returned and Trunks couldn’t help the laughter that tickled his throat.

Releasing the small smiling figure, the darker haired demi-Saiyan stood, fingers depositing a slim silver band into his awaiting hand.

“Aishiteru,” The Son declared softly, onyx fields of perpetual midnight mesmerizing; the cool chill of metal as it slid unchallenged onto his left hand contrasted beautifully with the warmth of his fingers as they coaxed the band upward toward his knuckles.

Kami-sama… Son Gohan…my love, my mate…why you saw fit to love me, I will never know…nor question…

“Aishiteru.” Trunks’s hands were less confident in their exploration, tips trembling with the magnitude of the gesture as the silver slid smooth and simply over soft ivory skin.

And then their were fingers in his hair, lips at his ear, promising him that the world would have to dissolve around them before they were ever parted again…

And even then they would stand strong through the tempest.

Fight.

Protect.

Secure.

Defend.

Kyo to ashita…

***

“Oi! Oniichan! Oniichan!” Both blissful men glanced up from their idolization of each other at the echoing call that sounded from across the Lookout.

“Nani?” His mate managed, his own mouth stuffed with those nifty little pastries his mother had made, despite her disapproval of his decision. Sighing softly, fingertips trailing with infinite care over the lavender littered collar of his counterpart, Gohan watched their younger replicas traverse the distance between them.

“We got you a present, Oniichan!” Goten sputtered out, throwing his end of their bundle to the ground as the youngest prince placed his with a tad more dignity at their feet. Swallowing the flaky bits and following them with a hearty gulp of bubbly – whoever sneaked this past his mother was a certified saint – the demi-Saiyan brushed crumbly fingers across his slacks.

“What is it?” Grinning like miniature madmen, chests puffed out like proud peacocks, the two boys gave a sharp nod of silent communication, grasping an edge of the brown sack between them and jerking the material upward.

Smoother than river rocks and shining like sunlight condensed, seven glittering objects fell with a rolling clatter, scattering among their feet like over sized pinball to finally rest in a haphazard design on the reflective surface beneath them.

And before either one of them could speak a dual cry was raised with chibi vigor to the heavens:

“Shenron!”

“I may have all eternity but this is ridiculous…” The booming bass of the unimpressed wish master washed over their air born forms. “I will grant you one wish…now what is it? Power? Women? Men? World domination? Hn…more underwear?”

Chewing his lower lip in indecision, Gohan flickered hopeful eyes upward to his equally straining counterpart.

“Well…we have to wish for something,” Trunks mused, tucking a strand of that lovely lavender behind his ear. “I mean, they went through all that trouble…”

“Hai…” Sighing in agreement, the younger demi-Saiyan cast his gaze toward the ground where the two chibified figures of the newly married couple were excitedly analyzing the metallic emerald coils of the earth’s dragon.

“Would you STOP that?! It tickles!” A massive green tail slapped irately at a laughing Son who easily dodged the attack, peering out from behind another scaly mound. Sighing heavily, the frustrated dragon fixed both determining demi-Saiyan’s with a fiery stare. “Choose. Now. I was in the middle of my memoirs…”

“Ummm…” Unwilling to detain the petulant reptile longer than necessary, Gohan searched the air and ground frantically for inspiration. His mother and Bulma-san were busy with Bra…his brother and, heh, brother were still taunting the dragon. His father was sitting on the far side of the tower, watching the events with feigned interest. Vegeta-san…was at the other end, crossed arms prohibiting communication, and carefully avoiding eye contact with the other Saiyan…

“I’ve got it!” Grabbing his stunned mate by the wrist, the excited Son hauled both up to eye level with Shenron. “I’ve got it, Shenron! I know what our wish is…”

“About time…” The grumble of contempt was lost to the slithering sound of his thunderous shifting, chibis scattering like uplifted leaves on an autumn breeze. Settling back comfortably, the wish granter gazed with an interested eye. “Well…?”

Thrilled at his cleverness, obsidian eyes glittered in anticipation, fingers tightening around those he held; smiling at his inquiring lover.

“We wish…that our fathers could be happy.” A ridged brow raised, mouth opening to proclaim it so.

“But!” Trunks lifted a swift hand, intercepting the declaration. “We don’t want the world destroyed!”

“Hai!” Gohan was quick to catch on to his mate’s clever foresight, squeezing those artistic digits for good measure. “And we don’t want anyone to die!”

“And!” Crystalline eyes sparkled at his appreciation of the darker haired demi-Saiyan’s choice. “We don’t want them to kill each other!”

“Trunks, I think that falls under ‘no death’…”

“Huh, you’re probably right…”

“Hold on.” A tremendous sigh rent the air as the enormous form moved again, massive head dipping down below the circle of Dende’s Lookout. When it rose again, ancient silver spectacles perched precariously on his wrinkled green snout. “Alright…” Clawed fingers gripped a spiral bound pad with resignation, opposite hand sporting a chewed pencil the size of his old mentor. “Run that by me again?”

***

This was nothing but a waste of time. Damn human rituals called for a Kami-damned congregation of people to witness what only needed three souls to complete properly. Hn. At least they had used the vows he had given them. Showed his boy was more Saiyan than he had initially given him credit for. Well, not technically his boy. His boy was behaving like an idiot with Kakarott’s brat. Damn it…just make a bloody wish so I can get the hell out of here.

As though catering to his whim, the dragon’s voice rumbled through the afternoon air with a lilting finality.

“…world destroyed…death…” Blinking at the absurdity of the words, the Ouji straightened, body tensing in response. What the fuck was going on? Had the boy lost it?

“Vegeta…” Kakarott was beside him in an instant, Saiyan instinct igniting in his broad form like a supernova.

“…kill each other…” Power surged and crackled as his counterpart blazed to life like a hundred watt bulb.

“Vegeta…” Damn it, why the HELL do you have to keep saying my name…? Suppressing the excitement that shimmied down his spine, the Saiyan prince growled his irritation, calling the man to halt with a negative jerk of his brunette mane.

“…world domination…” Muscles coiled with feline grace under blue spandex, preparing to launch himself forward, to kill the cataclysm before the wish could be completed. “Heh…just kidding…” Huh? Vegeta’s disbelieving onyx eyes watched the two demi-Saiyans above give the reptile withering looks before continuing their list.

“Is that all?” Fervent nods were issued as the figures descended, hands still despicably clasped between them. “Very well…” Curious eyes of night and day turned toward him, expectant smiles adorning their mischievous countenances. What? The prince glanced behind him reflexively, then down at his training suit. Was there food in his teeth?

A maniacal chuckle reminiscent of his own death-dealing days prickled the skin on his forearms, his skin growing immediately cold.

“Boy…” he growled, lip curling over the pearly perfection of his teeth; suspicious eyes glaring daggers as every animal instinct he possessed screamed at him to flee, “What have you done…”

“Your wish has been granted.”

“Vegeta-sama…” Trunks watched in avid fascination as his father stiffened, eyes glazing over like winter frost on a windowpane.

“Kakarotto…” He was positive he had only blinked once but when his light eyes opened, the royal, diminutive bundle of anger was in Son Goku’s larger arms, muscled limbs wrapped like a constrictor around the taller Saiyan’s thick neck. And Goku’s hands…well, they were…holding him up…

And they were devouring one another as though they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Sugoi…” Gohan’s mouth had cutely parted in amazement at the unnerving display and it was enough to make the pastel prince forget the scene their fathers were currently concocting.

Or the enraged feminine cries that soon followed.

“Gohan, love,” he whispered, delicate pads gently guiding those sensuous lips toward his own.

“Na…ni…?” Abandoned to the skillful delights of a tongue too eager to taste to respond.

“Our honeymoon…”

Buttons were ripped, clothing discarded and halfway strewn across the Lookout before they ever even reached the door to the Room of Spirit and Time.

“Should we,” useless words interrupted by the suckling ministrations that left artistic hues of scarlet and indigo on his neck. “…tell them…”

“No…” A sharp nip left his concern in the hazy regions of desire as his fingers fumbled with the brass knob behind him. “It’s only a day…” Swallowing hard, the demi-Saiyan succumbed to the seductive caresses that held his earlier promise. Groaning passionately at his mate’s impatience, they teetered through the door, wooden frame slamming home with a roar.

Right. Only a day…

***

“Trunks-kun?” Mussed and chocolate covered, the youngest Son cocked an inquisitive head toward the spectacle across the way, jaw finishing the task given and making simple work of the last piece of rich wedding cake.

“Huh?” Inquisitive eyes of aquamarine crystal lit on his own nightly orbs.

“Why is your tousan kissing mine?”

“Nani?!” Goten dutifully ignored the rain of cookie crumbles that showered his tacky hair as his counterpart’s wide eyes centered on the scene.

“I thought the kissing was over with…” Huffing slightly, the Son turned his gaze back to more important matters, devouring another finger sandwich with renewed vigor.

“Make me a deal, Go-chan?” An ebony brow arched, cheeks in diligent movement as dark eyes assessed his companion. “Let’s never grow up.” Nodding enthusiastically, the boy swallowed, donning a classic Son family smile.

“Hm!” A sudden thought crossed the food-wrought haze of his mind, causing the boy to stop his actions completely. “But Trunks-kun…” The lavender haired prince paused in the process of claiming the sole surviving brownie, tilting his head the slightest bit as both boys stoically ignored the commonplace screams of their mothers.

Glancing reverently over the mounds of free delicacies marked with superfluous chibi-sized fingerprints…the stack of pretty wrapped packages that adorned the Lookout…the departing clouds that signified the wish maker’s presence…

“Can we still have a wedding?”

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