Father Knows Best
by Hentai Institute     More by this Writer
Vejiita's attempts to answer Trunks' questions become a Saiyan free-for-all about the birds and the bees.

Written by Angelus.

"I can't explain it. When we're together I just have this need to…rip into him. This primal urge to, like, I don't know, rip out his throat or something. Is that normal, Papa?"

Vejiita paused, the glass halfway to his lips.

"You have the fucking urge to rip your boyfriend in half and you want to know if it's normal?"

Trunks shrugged, shifted his weight. Blowing the hair out of his eyes he took a whole twenty seconds to contemplate the question. To be honest, he wasn't sure if his father was being sarcastic.

"Well, yeah." Grabbing the back of the chair, he flipped it around and straddled the seat, facing his father across the table. The remnants of Vejiita's breakfast were stacked in haphazard porcelain heaps on the outskirts of his vision. He resisted the desire to wipe them away.

"Wait." Vejiita held up one hand, ungloved. The first watery light of a new day was seeping in through the window behind him; there was still at least a half hour before the sun rose, more than that before the house around them roused to full activity. In the kitchen, Trunks could hear the happy whistling of his grandmother as she washed through the first round of his father's meal.

"When you fuck," the Saiyan prince articulated carefully, leaning forward toward his offspring, "you're telling me you feel violent, correct?"

Trunks nodded eagerly.

"Specifically, that you want to bite him, rip him apart, whatever," the prince waved his hand dismissively to show the numerous variants on his son's behavior he believed to exist. "In essence, to mark him."

"Yes!" Trunks agreed enthusiastically, slamming his palm on the table. The dishes groaned precariously, then settled around him.

"That's it exactly! I never thought of it like that before! Like, like animals, or something! Marking my territory--but he's not really my possession or anything, so I'm not sure how that works--"

Vejiita blinked at his boy. At the wild way his hair defied gravity, at the obstinate way his eyes denied his humanity. He shook his head. Fucking half-breeds.

"So what?" he asked idly, picking the last vestiges of his meal from between his teeth with the tip of a greasy knife. "You think it's instinct?"

"Is it?" Trunks pounced on the idea. He was so far across the table he may as well have been fucking it. "Is it some kind of Saiyan instinct that makes me want to bite him--claim him? Like marking him is a signal to other Saiyans to fuck off?"

Vejiita wanted very much to laugh. But it went against his nature, his pride, his etcetera, etcetera…

The Saiyan no Ouji sighed and set down the utensil. Bustling happily, the woman's mother came and went and suddenly there was even more room for his son to dominate with his upper body.

"Boy, just who, exactly, are you telling to fuck off?"

His son opened his mouth. Closed it. Wrinkled his brow like he was contemplating the long division of pi.

"Well…I don't know. Other Saiyans?" Trunks eyes were hopeful.

Vejiita calmly folded his hands on the surface before him and cocked his head as though craning an ear for the answer.

"What other Saiyans, gaki?" Trunks blushed beneath the unlikely endearment. "Who are you afraid is going to steal your annoying little half-breed lover out from under you?"

"I…" he began, his passion still strong, his indelible need for resolution still headstrong and resilient. "Well, I don't know, Papa! Others," he reiterated. "Saiyans."

"Ah, yes," Vejiita nodded concisely. "Because Gohan would jump at the chance to jump his brother and Kakarotto has grand expectations for his youngest boy to give him a full-blood heir."

"Whoa! We can do that?"

"No, you fucking idiot!" the irate Ouji chastised, swatting his eldest over the head with his hand. Wincing, Trunks settled back onto his chair and rubbed at the growing lump on his skull.

"Well, hell, how the fuck should I know, huh? We're friggin' aliens, aren't we?"

Vejiita twitched and fought with himself not to throttle the boy.

"Trunks," he growled, eyes narrowed commandingly. "There are universal laws, boy." He stressed the importance of his words with a weighty hand gesture. "Every species has a male and a female, a--"

"But what about Nameks, Papa? And some bacteria reproduce by dividing themselves--"

"Dammit, Trunks!" the Saiyan no Ouji exploded. "I already had this talk with you when I found you fucking that brat! Don't make me go through it again!"

The dining room fell silent and even the noise in the kitchen paused briefly. Against his better judgment, Trunks began to snicker. As his father's ki rose dangerously, he raised a pleading, restraining hand.

"I'm not laughing at you, Papa, I swear, it's just the look on your face when you tried to tell me about having sex…" Lowering his voice, Trunks attempted, almost successfully, to mimic his sire.

"'Boy, it's obvious you know how to use your cock. Why the gods have forsaken me that you use it on Kakarotto's brat--'"

Ducking, Trunks narrowly dodged the blast that had been aimed at his head. Looking over his shoulder at the hole in the wall that exposed the immaculate lawn outside, the demi-Saiyan whistled.

"Mama's gonna be pissed."

Standing abruptly, Vejiita grabbed his offspring by the collar and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet.

"Out!" Shoving him toward the sudden exposure, Vejiita snarled. Tripping, Trunks obeyed. The Saiyan no Ouji was quick to follow.

"Papa, look, I--"

"Fuck you," Vejiita growled, thrusting his son out into the brisk, biting morning. Dew on the grass was slick and slippery; Trunks balanced fitfully as he was ushered forward.

"I am not a reference guide to your sex life!"

"But you're our prince, Papa," Trunks countered, nimbly avoiding his father's next assault and maneuvering a nice little dance step away from the snarling Saiyan. Smirking, he folded his arms over his chest. Vejiita's next attack was a planned challenge; Trunks blocked it easily with his fist and grinned. There was a calculated cunning in his father's eyes that he delighted in the sight of. It was a new day. A bright morning. The only need that superceded bloodshed was hunger and that had already been dealt with.

"You're supposed to know everything," the boy taunted, throwing the prince's own punch back to him where it was expertly caught. His grin was feral and mocking. "Even if it deals with fucking Kakarotto's ill-gotten spawn."

Vejiita almost grinned in return. Instead, he beat his son back twenty steady paces and watched in abject satisfaction as the delivery truck parked out front skittered backward with the rising force of their ki.

"Really," the Saiyan no Ouji mused as his son dodged a swift kick to the head and retaliated in kind. Weaving, fists in a quick defensive, he allowed the boy to press his attack. "Do you know all there is to know about humans, boy?"

Trunks' face was contorted with concentration. When he saw the train of his father's thought, he huffed; tossing the hair out of his face, he glared. Powering up, he lifted off the ground and pushed his advantage from above. Below him, his father's eyes were laughing.

"Of course not," Vejiita continued, as though Trunks was merely a slight inconvenience. Ducking in low, he grasped his offspring's unguarded foot, braced his weight and swung. The demi-Saiyan's unsuspecting form cut through two laboratories and a rec room before bumping to a halt. "It's nearly impossible. What of human instinct? Tch, as though they have it," he cursed, kicking aside the chucks of dirt and debris from the Briefs' family flower bed. "But they go around biting and mutilating each other, as well!"

"I told you, Papa," Trunks spit stubbornly, wiping the grit from his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's not mutilation. It's a tattoo."

"Whatever," the Ouji grunted, amused as his heir made his delicate way through the layers of wall and insulation. Behind him, wide-eyed workers peaked their heads through the hole as Briefs Trunks simply stood up and walked away.

"And I wanted it, dammit!" Slipping, he grabbed for the cracked edge of the wall and swore headedly when it broke off in his hand, depositing him soundly on his ass. Across the lawn, Vejiita tried hard not to laugh.

"At least I didn't get something really fucking stupid like the friggin' company logo," Trunks muttered hotly, getting to his feet.

"Oh?" Vejiita arched a brow, crossing his arms self-indulgently. "I disagree. I find the brat's name highly offensive."

Trunks rolled his eyes, patting white wall dust off the dark material of his gi.

"Hn. You would."

"Ooooiiiiii! Trunks-kuuun!" Looking up to the little pinpoint of colour that called his name, Trunks waved broadly as a beacon. Disgusted, Vejiita snorted.

"Speak of the demons and they appear."

"Oi, Goten! Down here!"

Tapping down on the upturned soil of the Capsule Corporation lawn, Goten smiled widely, moved in awkwardly for a public display of affection, then immediately thought better of it. The end result was comedic at best, with the youngest Son's movements borderline robotic and the colour of his face bleeding an unhealthy shade of 'oops'.

"Uh, sumimasen," he stuttered cutely, tucking his hand behind his head and glancing over at the older demi-Saiyan shyly.

Vejiita ran through the checklist of available insults as his son fawned over the brat, narrowing his eyes at his selection as Trunks' hand found the boy's waist, drawing him closer, his lips uncomfortably close to Goten's face.

"I can't," he stated simply before calmly lifting his hand, bracing his palm and expelling a golden stream of ki directed at the disgusting display of half-breed emotion playing before him like an afternoon serial.

"Whoa! Watch out, Vejiita-san!"

The Saiyan no Ouji verbally cursed the gods this time as Kakarotto's older brat deflected his blast away from the younger couple. Somewhere further down the street, a house lost its roof. Narrowing his ebony eyes, the prince resumed his angry stance as the demi-Saiyan landed heavily, balancing a load of books and rolled paper parchments haphazardly.

"Uh-oi! 'Niichan! Watch out!"

"I should charge people to watch this catastrophe," Vejiita murmured. Indeed, a crowd of interested spectators was already gathering, half of the night crew and their morning relief were on his lawn when the sun broke over the crest of West Capital. It wasn't until a senior staff member arrived for the day shift that it got handled appropriately. The mousy little man with the oversized glasses bowed repeatedly in Vejiita's direction, apologizing profusely as he herded people back to their stations.

His assistant rushed to help the Sons with their burden.

"Arigato," Gohan gushed, mistakenly depositing the majority of his load on the helpful human. "I thought I was gonna lose it there for a second, what with Vejiita's blast and everything." He blinked at the staggering stack of books and papers that whimpered under the weight. "Oh, those are for Bulma-san. It's what she asked for." There was the impression of a nod as the pile teetered off in the direction of the main entrance.

"Mama's out of town until tomorrow," Trunks commented absently, linking his arms over his chest.

"Oh, really?" Gohan asked, scratching his head. Catching sight of the destruction behind his younger counterpart, his eyes widened. "That's probably for the best, ne?"

"What, that?" Trunks indicated the ruins behind him with a jerk of his thumb. "Nobody got hurt." He glanced over his shoulder to be sure of his statement, then relaxed. "It's fixable."

"What happened, anyway?" Goten piped up, handing the few items he had salvaged to the bowing supervisor.

"Oh, Papa was just being difficult," Trunks responded, intentionally raising his voice.

The Sons exchanged a look. Gohan adjusted his glasses while Goten took the plunge.

"What'd you ask him, Trunks-kun?"

"We were talking about sex." Grinning, the boy raised his voice again. "Weren't we, Papa?"

"Fuck you, gaki!" Vejiita called irately, shaking a fist in his general direction as humans coming in for the work day rushed to avoid him. "I refuse to answer any more of your idiot questions!"

"Trunks, maybe it's wise if you don't provoke your father," Gohan cautioned, glancing worriedly toward the fuming figure of the Saiyan no Ouji.

Snickering, Trunks arrogantly cocked his head. "But where's the fun in that, Gohan-san? He is my father, after all. He should be able to answer simple sex questions, right?"

Goten and Gohan shared another sympathetic glance. Together, they had stumbled through that bizarre and foreign land called maturity, their own father being somewhat…well…

"If you say so, Trunks-kun," Goten replied uncertainly.

"Trunks," Gohan steeled himself. He was, after all, the eldest among them. It was his responsibility to pick up the slack of negligent Saiyan fathers. "If there's anything you need to know, I'm sure I can help you."

"Oh?" The unnatural glint in Trunks' unearthly blues warned the demi-Saiyan seconds too late to revoke his invitation. "So you can tell me if it's normal to want to rip into Goten's throat when we fuck?"

Goten's falling body hit the ground with a thud that shook more of the cracked plaster off the walls in the hole behind them.

Gohan opened his mouth. Furrowed his brow. Closed his mouth. Looked intently at Vejiita.

"Wait, that's not normal?"

Throwing his hands in the air, the Saiyan no Ouji bared his teeth.

"Why the fuck should I care what you do! If you want to be fucking masochists, that's your own fucking business!"

"Saiyan. Masochist." Trunks looked over at Gohan as he hauled his incoherent partner to his feet. "Isn't that redundant?"

"That's what I'm thinking." Coughing politely, the older demi-Saiyan fiddled with the keys in his pocket and tried his hardest not to look the Saiyan in the eye.

"But is it natural, Vejiita-san? To be that violent? I know there are many species that tend to use a more violent approach to reproduction; however…"

"I don't fucking believe this," the prince growled disbelievingly, grinding his teeth.

"Yeah, but those animals generally go into a rut, or heat, or something, Gohan-san, to promote the act. It's not just a naturally occurring thing."

"Well, that's true. Vejiita-san?" The prince groaned internally at the high-pitched inquisition. "Saiyans don't have a heat cycle, do they? The undeniable urge to reproduce?"

"I am not a goddamn guidebook!"

"Oh, here we go again…"

"Well, I know that, Vejiita-san, but you're the Saiyan no Ouj--hey!" Gohan narrowly missed becoming a stain on the outer wall of the Gravity Room. "There's no need for that, Vejiita-san!"

"You're preaching to me about violence? You fucking half-breeds are ridiculous! Why the fuck should I answer your questions? What difference does it make whether you spawn of your own will or because Saiyan nature shoved her hand up your ass?"

"My, that was an unpleasant image…"

"C'mon, chibi. Wake up. If Papa attacks again, we're gonna fuse and kick his ass, ok? Ok? Dammit, Goten…"

"It does make a difference!" Gohan called animatedly, shrugging off his sports coat, folding it, and laying it lightly on the concrete curb that once housed the flower bed. He began to roll up his sleeves. "I want to know how much of my behavior is because of my Saiyan blood."

Vejiita scoffed; his foot slid back in a defensive stance. "Saiyan nature had nothing do to with you wearing that damn costume and dancing around like a fucking idiot, boy!"

Trunks laughed hysterically; Goten, beginning to regain consciousness, watched the world explode in a blaze of golden light.

"That was a result of trauma, Vejiita-san! I was acting out my fears in a self-appreciating manner!"

"Is that what the therapist told him?" Trunks commented blithely, helping Goten to stand on his own.

"Yeah, I think so."

"That's complete shit! You were attempting to downplay your own strength by creating a new identity that wouldn't be threatened by your mother's fucking frying pan!"

Gohan's roar blew the row of cars parked along main street into orbit.

"Wow," Goten remarked, clutching Trunks' arm comfortably. "Where the hell did he get that?"

The lavender demi-Saiyan shrugged, following the fighting forms easily as they cracked skulls in the air thirty feet above them.

"Papa likes his afternoon soaps." He met his companion's blank stare. "Someone's always fucked up on those shows. They're always doing crazy shit and there's always at least one with multiple personalities."

Goten blinked, then nodded, mouth slightly parted in wonder at the air show.


They watched his father rise and fall twice. Likewise, Gohan met the side of six skyscrapers before they clashed overhead and locked hands in a decisive show of strength.

Trunks surveyed the area with a dispassionate eye. "We should probably start gathering the dragonballs, or something."

"Uh huh."

So enrapt was he, Goten didn't notice the change in Trunks' expression until the hand was on his ass. "You know, watching them fight gets me hard."

"You too?" Goten whipped his head around. The Son's eyes were wide, the blush stroke across his nose bizarrely becoming.

The older demi-Saiyan grinned. "Well, yeah. Fighting always gets me hard." He chuckled meaningfully. "You know that."

"Yeah," Goten agreed, punching his counterpart on the arm. "But since when the ef did you start talking about our sex life in public?"

Trunks sighed, gesturing exasperatedly toward the smoking structure of Capsule Corporation. "Well it wasn't public until he blasted a hole through the wall!"

It was at that particular moment that the air above them vibrated with a sonic-type boom loud enough to rattle the windows on the houses five blocks over. Son Gohan spiraled from the sky in a ripped suit, proudly sporting black and blue marks of his defeat.

Trunks grimaced in annoyance, squinting as the impact blew dust and grit into his eyes. "Dammit, Gohan…"

Goten watched his brother descend with a wince, cringing as the impact shook the ground; he stumbled backward into his boyfriend, flailing for balance.

At once, his eyes widened and his cheeks coloured fiercely.

"Ano, Trunks-kun…I can feel that."

"I told you, chibi," Trunks repeated lowly. "Fighting does that to me." His brow furrowed. "Hey, I wonder if that's normal. Ne, Papa--"

"Trunks-kun!" Goten hissed, jerking his friend and lover down by the collar and attempting to beat sense into his obstinate brain. "You don't have to ask him--"

"Ask him what?" Both boys jumped at the voice; as a unit, they turned mortified expressions toward the sound.

"Oh, Papa's not gonna like this…"

"I hate it when he does that!"

"Sugei, what happened here? Oi…is that Gohan?" Son Goku turned concerned eyes toward the boys beside him. "Who're we fightin'?"

The two teenagers raised their pointing hands together; at the end of their sophisticated explanation lay the floating figure of the Saiyan no Ouji, worse for wear, but better than his opponent. Beneath him, Gohan groaned and shaking fingers began to claw their way out of the Saiyan sized crater that had once been the center of main street.

"Great. It's a fucking convention now," Vejiita called snidely, landing in a stride. "Who the fuck wants to ask me another question?"

Both boys wisely took a step backward. Goku merely laughed uncertainly and scratched his head.

"What're we talking about?"

"Trunks-kun! Don't you dare!" Goten pleaded. There was a hereditary suicidal glint in his blue eyes that spoke of madness. Vejiita's iron gaze flashed to his half-breed son with blatant warning.

"Oh, nothing much, Goku-san. Just sex," Trunks stated offhandedly. "But I think we've established that Saiyans don't bite their lovers," he started, ticking the facts off on his hand. "They don't go into heat, that we are not masochists, strangely enough, and--oh!" Trunks raised his hand, snapping his fingers. "That's right! And we can't knock each other up."

"Really?" Goten exclaimed. "Thank Dende-sama!"

"I know, chibi. I was kinda--"

"So…what do we do?" Goku asked curiously, looking from one member of their loosely formed group to the other. "And why'd you gotta blow everything up to figure it out?"

"Because Vejiita-san was being difficult." Gohan joined the collection at a limp. His tie was scorched and skewed; the slacks his wife had purchased for his birthday were in tatters at the knee, though the hem had miraculously survived. One eye refused to open fully, but he set both of them in a glare on the Saiyan no Ouji's stern profile.

"M-maybe we should go get the dragonball radar, Trunks-kun…"

"And miss this? Are you kidding?"

It started with a tick, a simple muscle spasm over the left eye. Uncontrollable. Almost natural, save for the fact that the muscle was connected to a vein. A vein that only throbbed when in the presence of Kakarotto. Or his sons.

To be in the same vicinity as all three of them, breathing the same air, was intolerable. Vejiita's eyes flashed green and it was all the warning Goku needed to snag the arm Goten wasn't grabbing Trunks with. He shared a moment of understanding with his oldest son and Gohan tackled the Saiyan no Ouji just as his father reached for the back of his button up shirt.

Before Vejiita could lose temper his completely, the five of them were gone.

"Ouch! Get off me!"

"Gomen nasai, Trunks-kun!"

"If you don't get the fuck away from me, boy…"

Gohan scrambled into a kneeling position, leaving the Ouji prone and pissed. Glaring hatefully at the faces that turned to him, one by one, the Saiyan set his seething sights on one in particular and snarled.

"Kakarotto…" Pointing angrily, his finger inches from the other Saiyan's nose, Vejiita gnashed his teeth. "You go too far! Making a mockery of me!"

"Huh?" Goku tilted his head and blinked at the shaking finger, seemingly unfazed. "Sugei. You ain't wearing your gloves."

Eyes widening at the indignation, the prince's hand changed positions with an abrupt flick of his wrist. Golden energy gathered in the center, his lips forming the syllabic alliteration.


"Shimatta, Otousan! Look out!"


Dodging the point blank assault, Goku exhaled gratefully as the blast flew past his head, singing the tips of his dark hair, leaving behind the distinct smell of burning. Five pairs of eyes followed the golden beam as it arched gracefully across the polished expanse of Kami's Lookout.

"Oh, fuck…" Trunks breathed moments before the impact wrenched a hole in the side of the palace proper. Black smoke filtered uninhibited into the atmosphere. There was absolute quiet as the building settled back after the attack.

"Otousan!" Gohan rounded, annoyed, dark brow drawn severely, hands on his hips. Vejiita's initial threat had propelled him promptly to his feet. "Why didn't you bring us somewhere that didn't have people in it?"

"'Cause I can't," Goku explained, hands spread imploringly as he, too, stood. "I gotta focus on someone's ki. I can't just bring us to the middle've nowhere."

"Huh," Trunks grunted, standing. "I didn't know that." He extended his hand to the dark-haired demi-Saiyan beside him. "Did you?"

Goten shrugged. "I remember him saying something about it, yeah."

"I was pretty sure he could just pop up wherever the hell he wanted to."

The younger boy wrinkled his nose, gaining his feet with a grunt. Patting himself off, he shook his head. "Nah, he just has this weird way of knowing when you're taking a shower--"


"Oh--Ohaiyo, Dende!" Goku waved happily. "Gomen nasai! We'll get it fixed!" The little green god stopped his hesitant approach and eyed the quintet distrustfully. Beside him, Mr. Popo cocked his head questioningly. They halted their advance completely as the Saiyan no Ouji got ominously to his feet.

"Really, really!" the tall Saiyan assured, waving his hand. "It was just an accident. Nothing serious. We'll get it patched up pretty quick!"

"Yeah, right after we patch up the crater in the middle of West Capital," the lavender haired demi-Saiyan muttered, glaring at Gohan.

"Hey, that wasn't my fault," the taller half-breed retorted irately. "If Vejiita-san had just answered my question instead of trying to beat the crap out of me, this wouldn't have happened."

Goku eyed his son skeptically. "Trying…?"

"Don't blame Papa just because you don't know whether or not your years of therapy actually worked or if it's just some whacked out hybrid bullshit that makes you act like a moron!"


"Oh, that's it!" Gohan declared, pushing up his stained sleeves. The right lens of his glasses was cracked down the middle, offering a crazed expression as he bared his teeth. "I don't have to explain myself to you!"

"Hey, no problem, Saiyaman-san," Trunks taunted expertly, muscles tensing imperceptivity. Beside him, Goten made an unclassifiable noise. "You have absolutely every right to act like an idiot." A mockery of his sire's grin showed the whites of his teeth.

"I mean, you can't help it. It probably has something to do with your alien genetics." Blue eyes flashed. "Though I didn't take Saiyans for dancers."

"You little--" balling his fists angrily, Gohan, so often generously composed, lost it.

"I've been excessively tolerant of you since you starting dating my brother, but I'll be damned if I let some pampered little piss ant parading around like a prince think he can say whatever he wants to me!"

At a distance already, Dende and Mr. Popo sidled sideways away from the loosely gathered group of Saiyans.

Gohan's eyes gained a feral green sheen and Trunks licked his lips in anticipation. It wasn't often any one of them could get the scholarly demi-Saiyan to do more than apologize. It had become something of an ongoing game between he and his father to push the middle Son's patience. As it stood that crater in West Capital had cost him dearly.

Goten had intelligently moved out of immediate range and Vejiita was watching with feigned disinterest. The outcome would, after all, determine how he spent the following evening--plastering his offspring to the Gravity Room walls or watching shitty science fiction films that involved aliens even Frieza would not have associated with.

Narrowing his eyes, the prince silently cheered for the underachieving Son. It would serve his brat right to get the shit kicked out of him after this morning's audacity. Asking the Ouji questions about sex, indeed! Instinct, tch! What did it matter if it was Saiyan instinct that caused him to act in a primal manner. Had Trunks been fucking a ningen, Vejiita may have given it more than a passing thought. But Goten had proven more than once that he could handle having his ass handed to him. Literal or figurative, it hardly seemed to matter.

As his offspring shifted into a determined fighting stance, the Ouji cursed mildly. Trunks wasn't going to give less than his best and Vejiita wasn't entirely certain he couldn't kick the humanized demi-Saiyan through the six layers of earth needed to subdue him.

"Dammit all…" he mumbled, anticipating the inevitable. It was the first time in his entire existence on the planet that he was pleased to hear the earth-affected Saiyan speak.

"Whoa," Goku commented, halting the certainty of conflict between the two half-breeds. "Trunks and Goten are dating?"

Two pairs of wide black eyes turned slowly toward their father. A disbelieving set of blues joined them in their surprise. Thankfully, Vejiita saved them all the trouble of putting their shock into words.

"Kakarotto! You are kidding!"

Goku's brow drew down questioningly. His hand went habitually to the back of his neck.

"No shit…he's not…" Trunks breathed incredulously, straightening, fists dropping to his sides. Goten made another bizarre sound in the back of his throat that may have been a whimper.

"Otousan," Gohan began, all anger toward Trunks temporarily forgotten. "Surely you've…noticed?" he asked hopefully.

Goku blinked at the semi-circle, cocking his head at the image of the dumbstruck Saiyan prince. He looked back toward his eldest son.

"Noticed what?"

Gohan couldn't respond, too bewildered by the fact that his father could be so…dense.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Vejiita exploded when no one else would elaborate, gesturing sharply toward the two demi-Saiyans. "They're fucking, Kakarotto!"

"Really?" the tallest Saiyan pondered aloud. His eyes went to the two boys in question and he stared quietly for a moment. Then, "they don't look like it."

"Oh, you are fucking joking," Vejiita sputtered, stalking toward the buffoon with the absolute need to beat some sense into him.

"Wait a second," Gohan commanded, taking control of his motor functions once more. The flat of his palm hit the advancing Ouji square in the chest; it was nothing more than Son luck that kept it from being removed from his wrist. Ignoring the fuming prince, the demi-Saiyan set his crooked sights back on his father.

"You can't tell me you haven't noticed, Otousan. You're Saiyan! Can't you smell it or something?"

"Idiot boy! We're not dogs!" Vejiita barked, smacking the half-breed's arm away from his person. "We don't have the magic fucking ability to smell their disgusting activities!"

Gohan took an amazed step backward, idly rubbing his hand. "Really?"

"Yeah," Goku offered helpfully, following the conversation at last. Lifting a hand, he indicated Gohan's tattered state. "You just smell like dirt."

"And blood," Vejiita smirked.

"And burnt," Trunks dug in lastly.

Furiously indignant and refusing to be had, Gohan rounded on the Saiyan no Ouji. "Then how did you know?"

Vejiita crossed his arms in annoyance. Lifting his chin, he jerked it toward the pair.

"I found them fucking in my spot."

Goten groaned, turning a pretty shade of pink. Trunks merely mimicked his father's stance and smirked.

"Sugei…" Goku eyed the duo with genuine interest. "How do you do it?"

"Otousan!" Goten squeaked, clawing Trunks' arm before the older demi-Saiyan had a chance to give his father an in depth view of their private life.

Seemingly fascinated, Goku continued. "Is that normal?" To everyone's astonishment, he turned the question toward the Saiyan no Ouji.

"What?!" Vejiita snarled, immediately assuming a defensive. Had he possessed his tail, Gohan could easily imagine it puffing out like a cat. But wait, they weren't cats either, right?

"To be gay? It must be," Trunks observed keenly, looking down at his boyfriend. "Papa didn't freak out about it. He had more of a problem when I played a girl in that stupid play last year at school."

"No," Goten agreed warily. "But I think he might be spazzing right now, Trunks-kun…"

Vejiita turned baleful eyes on his vociferous firstborn; his aura sparked dangerously. "This is all your doing, gaki…"

"Ne, 'Jiita." The world seemed to hold its breath as Goku unwittingly signed his own death certificate. "Is it normal for a Saiyan to want to be with other Saiyans?"

The prince's filicidal thoughts were abruptly terminated by the inquiry. That dreaded vein began to twitch again. He couldn't believe the baka had just…

"What did you just…" he growled warningly.

"For like more than spars n' stuff," Goku elaborated, cocking his hip and scratching his head. "You know, like livin' together and doing other stuff. 'Cause I love Chichi and everything, but is it, like, instinct to want to leave and go be with other Saiyans?"

Trunks had a moment of déjà vu while his father obediently had a breakdown.

Vejiita's retaliation became an incoherent string of insulting words and phrases. Goten gulped as his lavender counterpart laughed. His older brother gasped politely at several of them, blushing violently.

The oldest Son was blissfully oblivious of the threat to his life as the prince approached. The trio of demi-Saiyans backed wisely away.

"'Cause I used to feel really funny when the moon was full, even without my tail. And Chichi was nice n' all, but it really didn't do it, you know?" He met Vejiita's raging black eyes with a smile. "I'm sure you know what I mean, ne, 'Jiita? I mean, we kinda talked about it after that spar, that one time after we defeated Buu--"

"Kakarotto no baka!" The reddening Saiyan no Ouji managed at last, landing a pointed finger in the center of Goku's orange chest. His eyes were hard as flint and as unforgiving. "This is pointless! The moon is gone and there are no other Saiyans!"

Goku had the decency to blush, toeing the ground like an adolescent. The hair on the nape of his neck was not surviving.

"Well, yeah, I know that. But if there were…"

Shaking his auburn head adamantly, the prince growled. "We are not dogs," he reiterated irately. "We do not travel in packs, for gods' sake! If that were the fucking case and I was left with the lot of you, I'd have killed myself!"

"Yeah, ok…" Goku agreed blandly, looking with acute interest at the finger on his chest. Licking his lips, he wrapped gentle fingers around the prince's wrist.

"But if there were other Saiyans around," he repeated slowly, applying subtle pressure to the Ouji's appendage. "Would it be normal to be attracted to them?"

There was a weighty meaningfulness to his words that made every single entity in the vicinity pause. The slighter Saiyan flinched with annoyance, eyeing the hand on his own with disdain. Then he made the mistake of looking up into dark eyes too honest to hide the obvious emotion within them and it became abrasively clear. Vejiita blanched, staggering backward. He held his wrist as though burned.

Trunks snickered mischievously at the revelation. "Well that's a plot twist, ne?"

Goten paled as Vejiita's astonishment transformed itself into fury. "What about now, Trunks-kun? Should we get them now?"

Gohan took an uncertain step toward his father, shocked and unsettled by the implication. "Otousan…you can't mean that…"

Goku's gaze never left the Saiyan prince.

"You think it has to do with fusing, chibi? 'Cause, you know, after we fused I never looked at you the same way again."

"Trunks! Those're our DADS, dude!"

"Yeah," the lighter demi-Saiyan admitted, nodding. "But they fused too, Goten."

"NO!" Goten denied heatedly, surprising them all. "This isn't right!"

Concerned, Trunks furrowed his brow. "Chibi…calm down…"

"No!" he reiterated, shaking his head adamantly. "I'm tired of wondering if it's all about instinct, Trunks-kun!" His wide eyes were damp and imploring. "Instinct doesn't make me feel the way I feel about you!" He rounded on his family. "And if Saiyans were 'meant to be together', we'd all be a lot more fucked up than we are right now. 'Niichan wouldn't be with Videl, you'd be with…with…" Scrunching his brow, he grasped at the first available straw.

"Future Trunks, for Dende's sake!"

"Mirai no Trunks?!" Gohan choked, holding his hands up in denial and backing away. "That's ridiculous! I would never--"

"And the three of us wouldn't even exist!"

"He's right about that," Vejiita remarked quietly, eyes dark and veiled. Something in Trunks clenched, cold. His mouth went suddenly dry.

"What do you mean, Papa?"

Obsidian eyes, angry and guarded, stared uncompromisingly at his heir.

"Everything you've asked me is bullshit, Trunks," the Ouji confided gruffly. "Saiyan instinct. You already know it." Arrogantly, the corner of his mouth twitched with a contemptuous smile.

"As do you," he berated Gohan without turning. When his gaze settled on the clueless Saiyan before him, he simply glowered.

"And you are simply a disgrace, regardless of species," the prince scoffed, disregarding the other pure-blood with a wave.

"This entire scene has been a waste of my time."

"Hey, wait!" Goku called as Vejiita turned away, walking toward the edge of the Lookout with the single-minded determination to put as much distance between himself and his people as possible. "You can't just leave it like that!" The tall Saiyan looked at his sons and his son's lover with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "If what I--if it's not instinct," Goku demanded, "then what is it, Vejiita?"

The older man paused quietly and the entourage obediently held its breath, awaiting the religious divination that would sure be revealed through the lips of the Saiyan no Ouji. Gohan cleared his throat discreetly and Goten fought the predictable need to sneeze. Trunks frowned thoughtfully at his father's back.


"Trunks," Vejiita replied evenly, onyx gaze cast outward over the world. The sun was already setting on this part of the planet. "Did I not explain the concept of sex adequately enough when you were younger?"

Swallowing hard, the light-haired demi-Saiyan nodded, though his sire's eyes were elsewhere.

"Hai, Papa, but--"

"And did I not, Gohan," Vejiita continued curtly, calling the other half-breed to attention, "give you reasons for your behavior when women began to make you feel like," the prince paused and one could easily envision the invisible quotations that hugged the statement, "'you should be doing two things at once, neither of which required clothing'?"

The middle Son coloured brightly and Trunks snickered. Goku blinked, slack jawed.

"Hai, Vejiita-san…"

Before the prince could single him out, Son Goten found his voice.

"Thank you, Ouji-san," Goten spoke up, his voice wavering at the unnatural bravado. When all eyes turned toward him, he firmly reminded himself that he was in the presence of family.

Anything that went beyond the circle of Kami's Lookout could be easily met with return fire.

"For…" he faltered, licking his lips. Vejiita's head inclined slightly, the only indication that he was listening at all. Strengthened by that knowledge, Goten dodged Trunks supportive grab of his hand and stepped closer to the taciturn Saiyan. Passing his boyfriend, the youngest demi-Saiyan shoved his hands into his pockets and fisted his courage.

"Thanks for not letting us make complete fools out of ourselves," he murmured as clearly as he could to the inflexible back of the Saiyan no Ouji.

The prince snorted, though the tips of his ears burned brilliantly against the caramel colouring of his complexion.

"Baka," he responded briskly. "You do enough of that on your own." He pivoted abruptly and when he turned, there was no hint of his embarrassment; Goten was met unexpectedly with the inky intensity of his boyfriend's stern sire. Heartbeat going apeshit, he refused to back down. After a moment, Vejiita's gaze ricocheted around the collective and he was able to breathe again.

"The lot of you. Complete morons," he growled. "Asking me about Saiyan instinct like I've got a fucking manual for it back in my space pod." He spit derisively. "As though I would simply 'neglect' to inform you if we were predisposed to such bizarre behaviors. Biting indeed."

The trio of half-breeds nodded knowledgeably, properly chastised.

"Gomen, Papa…"

"Sumimasen, Vejiita-san…"

Feet shuffled self-consciously; Gohan habitually checked his watch only to find that it had cracked at some point of impact that had simultaneously ripped a gash in his button up shirt. Trunks and Goten conferred quietly with murmurs of agreement. Only Goku seemed unsatisfied with Vejiita's proclamation.

"But 'Jiita…" The prince cringed. "That can't be right, can it? We've got more instinct than that, right?" Goku's large, expressive eyes craved answers to questions his simple mind could not form into words. Vejiita indulged his anger for a long, seething second.

Then banished it with a mild curse.

"Kakarotto, of course we have instinct," he said gratingly, pulling his inactive hands into fists. "We fight, don't we? Not just because there's some fucking evil piece of shit out there, but because we want to." His black brow knit sharply. "Is there more than that?"

Goku opened his mouth to speak, but nothing happened. Trunks shook his head disbelievingly.

"Wow…that makes so much sense…"

Gohan blinked. "That was profound, Vejiita-san."

Goten nodded sagely, an easy convert. "Mmm."

"Now wait a sec!" Goku protested. All four followers of Vejiita's new religion glanced at him with annoyance. Stepping forward, the Saiyan's mouth was set in an aggravated line.

"That doesn't answer everything! Just because I enjoy eating, doesn't mean I take it to bed with me!" The poor analogy held little weight and was met with open skepticism. Trunks was softly explaining it to his fellow half-breeds when their mutual messiah haughtily raised his chin and crossed his arms. There was a battle of wills across the tiled floor of Kami's Lookout.

"But Otousan," Gohan began gently. "Vejiita-san's already answered our questions. There isn't any particular Saiyan instinct associated with…sex…" The middle-aged demi-Saiyan trailed off when he realized his words were having little effect on the staring contest before him.

"Ah, but that's not what you're asking, is it, Kakarotto?" Vejiita murmured quietly.

"This just got creepy," Trunks commented, reaching for his lover's hand. Goten nodded enthusiastically, clasping it gratefully.

Goku's eyes were no longer open and friendly. There was suddenly a Saiyan in their midst and it wasn't the Ouji.

"No," he responded lowly. The tall Saiyan was unnervingly still.

Vejiita's gaze did not lower, but his obsidian eyes glittered knowingly.

"An instinct's question on instinct. How ironic."

Goku's lip curled contemptuously. "Maybe."

Vejiita's laugh was dark and cunning. "Then I suppose that answers your question, Kakarotto?"

"What was the question…" Gohan furrowed his brow. Trunks and Goten exchanged a look. They recognized this kind of tension. It had been prominent between them for the better part of three years; if this was going where they thought it was, they highly doubted Gohan's ability to cope. The half-breed's mind would conjure something horrible to compensate for his incomprehension. And if the Great Saiyaman was any indication…

"Ne, Oniichan, let's go look for the dragonballs. We'll be able to fix this all up in no time…"

"But…" Gohan protested as the boys ushered him back toward the smoking palace.

"Hai, Gohan-san. I doubt West Cap main street can function through rush hour with that kinda hole…"

"But I…"

Vejiita watched them leave; he smirked as the oldest demi-Saiyan struggled futilely in their grip.

"Vejiita…" Goku intoned huskily. Closing his eyes briefly, the older Saiyan grinned. Stopping the larger man in his tracks with a look that offered no room for resistance, Vejitta held up one finger and slowly shook his head.

"Ah-ah-ah, Kakarotto. The nerve to ask me so many fucking questions," the prince chided. "I refuse to proceed further until you answer at least one of mine."

Gnashing his teeth, the Saiyan in Son Goku was poorly leashed. "What?" he asked tightly.

Relaxing his stance, the Saiyan no Ouji loosely crossed his arms over his chest.

"Baka," he swore. "What the fuck took you so long?"


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