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Doppelganger	By : chroniclyflaming Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1073 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Doppelganger

Prompt: Teen or Adult Goten/Future Trunks

I don't care how, I just need it so bad. Bonus points for main timeline Trunks being super jealous.

The fill:

'That flirts between our lips like dynamite

An emotion wick so

You feel like a firefly

Whose lamp's unlit

And smothered by

The bed, the sweat, the dawns of the past,

the taste of the small of an old lover's lap so'

Trunk Eyes, Man Man

Seeing his timeline counterpart, his twin, was a real shock that nearly made him fall over. They were the same height, same coloring, same haircut. The same angry, threatened look on their faces, this Trunks had to admit. The only difference was that the other guy was younger and slimmer. Like looking at some weird pictures of himself years and years ago.

Do I really glare like that?

Then he turned his head and met his little 'sister.'

It wasn't so weird, right, for them to have had a second kid, Trunks told himself. Lots of people had more than one child. But god, did she look like Mom did as a kid. She at least shook his hand and smiled at him. Air filled his lungs again.

It was sort of similar to coming back to this time and discovering a whole new set of androids, then Cell. Definitely Déjà vu.

But he could handle this. His father, hair shorter, stood in the corner, wearing the smallest smile. Bulma, his—their-mother, beamed at him. Maybe she had been worried about him, in his own timeline. His own mother often wondered what they were doing in this timeline. 'At least they're safe,' she would mutter into her coffee mug, hair falling into her eyes. 'We did all we could. Now we have to help our own selves.'

And there, over there on the porch was Gohan, laughing, waving at him in recognition. Jeez. He was all tall, slim, wearing glasses. No scars, that was for sure. Two arms. One of which fell to the woman beside's him, nudging her and muttering something. A dark-haired kid ran up to them, chattering something and waving a hot dog. His kid? God, had Gohan gotten married and a kid (maybe two?) in this timeline? Were those wedding bands on their hands? Amazing, all the differences...

Dear god. Trunks had to do a double-take and try to exhale. That was the android, over there. Her short hair had made his eyes pass over her at first. She was talking to a shorter girl, blonde and pigtailed, pink-clad, occasionally throwing out a line at the short man on her other side. Krillin. Krillin? With hair? And saying something earnest, animated with those gestures Trunks still remembered to the two women. Who rolled their eyes at each other. The same pale blue eyes. Either there was another android he didn't know about over here, which was admittedly a possibility, or Juuhachigou had had a kid.

He'd remembered hearing that Krillin had a crush on her, but goddamn. A kid. They looked so normal. Trunks could only stare at them for so long before feeling sick.

If someone had asked him what he was feeling at this moment it would be: complicated.

Oh, there was the rest of the Son's. Goku, alive and strong and nodding along to something his wife was saying. Both of them looked healthy and without any heart disease. Trunks had to smile. Just the sight of the older, taller man made him feel safer. Nothing too bad could happen when Goku was around. He was even stronger than he'd been fighting Cell. Didn't look too old either, still pretty young and even handsome. Rounded cheeks and dark eyes with the optimistic turn to his mouth that made smiling easy. Older, and still happily married and utterly…

Trunks turned away, desperate to change what he'd been thinking about. Focus on something else, something like the buffet, yeah. Look at that mountain of shrimp. Eat some stuff. Say hello to everyone. Tell them about wanting to collect the dragonballs and see how that goes.

He'd navigated himself carefully over there, avoiding contact over any sort with the android and her daughter. Shrimps. Sandwiches. Safety. Good.

Trunks reached for a champagne glass and was stopped by a dark-haired man trying to shove another piece of brisket into his face.

"Um, do you mind—"

"Hew, Twunks!" Pale, thin, cocking his head that familiar way, dark-eyed. Those same spikes. With a mighty effort, the other man swallowed. Trunks himself could only stand there and try not to fall into the mountain of shrimp. Made by his grandmother, this other Trunk's grandmother, who had no doubt thrown this entire thing together. So she was to blame.

Stupidly, he leaned against the table and tried not to swallow his tongue. When he tried to say something, like, say, 'who exactly are you,' it came out, "Flughg."

The young man leaned in closer. "Huh? Are you choking again? Hah, and you always warn me about not chewing!" He reached out with one hand to begin punching his back. Slapping it with that warm hand. All hearty. Very. Very close.

It took all his strength not to just go along with it. What if he tried the Heimlich maneuver, oh god, what if he tried the Heimlich maneuver? "No, no. It's fine. Please, stop. Uh."

"Oh, sure." He was a little shorter than Trunks, than both Trunks, than Gohan and Goku. Skinnier too, and as pale as his mother and brother. Everyone's having a second kid, nowadays. "You need to sit down. You're all pale and twitchy."

He laughed, a bark of a laugh that made Trunks jump. "What, did you sister show your Dad that tape you made?

"Or did you sister give away all your clothes again—?"

"No, no. You see, I'm not Trunks. That Trunks. This Trunks."

He blinked. Long eyelashes and dark eyes. "…what? C'mon. You know I don't like riddles."

"I'm the Trunks from the future." He became aware he was pulling his shoulders close to his body, almost cowering. Had they ever told this kid about him? They had never thought they'd see him again, so it would be perfectly natural to not discuss him. The guy probably had no idea who he was. Not a clue.

But really nice pale skin and hair.

"Oh. Oh." He snapped his fingers, the long-sleeved shirt thrown back to reveal a small wrist that Trunks had the oddest compulsion to touch. Distantly, he heard his mother gently nagging him about finding a girl and settling down, and more distantly still, the others at the party talking and eating.

If someone had asked him what he was feeling at this moment it would be: very confused, a little hungry, and a tiny bit horny.

"Trunks? Uh, Other Trunks? You okay?"

"Yes. Sure. I'm sorry." That voice he used to talk to someone difficult came out, all serious. Asking someone to leave the underground bunker because he was scaring other people/hogging supplies/hurting people, and everyone knowing that it might lead to the person's death. But it was for the greater good. "But you have me at a disadvantage."

"Huh?"

"I don't know your name?"

"Oh, it's Goten."

It was the word that angels would use to call other angels before the doves were brought out and evil was beaten back. Goten. Goten. Go-ten.

"Hi."

He was smiling, stupidly. Feeling light-headed and dizzy enough to fall into a nearby punch ball. Trunks' face burned, and he wanted desperately to stop looking deeply into Goten's eyes, to break any eye contact and go hide somewhere and block this entire event out. Hide like a hurt animal, as he had after fighting the androids and losing yet again. Juuhachigou needed to step away from her family and slap him, to bring sanity back.

But it was impossible not to move close to the younger man and look steadily at him.

Goten. Goten.

If someone had asked him what he was feeling at this moment it would be: so, so happy and so miserable and still a little hungry and increasingly horny.

Goten seemed a little amused, but any fear of teasing disappeared over the sight of his smile. A sweet easy thing. "Hi."

Smiling stupidly in return, Trunks tried to coolly lean into the table. What was that stuff his mother had said to say to a girl? Something about being pretty, yes, about complimenting their name (Goten; torture and paradise in one word), about asking about their hobbies and being polite. 'Don't look stupidly at their chests, no matter what, Trunks.'

Only now his eyes were drawn to Goten's lean chest and the sight of white skin peaking through the collar of his shirt.

"Dude. Your elbow's in the punch bowl."

"Oh. Oh. No." It was the greatest tragedy, clearly. He was a fool standing in the middle of the room with all the lights on him and with a wet sleeve. Goten thought he was crazy. Insane. And an idiot.

"Aw, it's okay." Goten was smiling again which made Trunks smile uncontrollably in return, all gormless he was sure. Giddy and stupid, oh please, don't smile, don't ever stop smiling. "Trunks has plenty of stuff inside. I'm sure some of it will fit you."

Those incredible, beautiful, perfect eyes that almost made him fall over like he'd been clubbed in the head were looking over his form. Torture that he would have climbed a deadly mountain in the middle of a storm with no clothes on for. "I think you're a little bigger though. But his stuff should be okay."

"You were the guy that had to fight the androids, right?"

Androids, what androids? What? "Yeah. Sure."

"You totally have to tell me about them."

"Of course. What do you want to hear?"

Goten was leading him towards the building, while Trunks trailed after him. Taking in the scent of his shampoo and soap and cologne. Very civilized. This wasn't a guy who'd spent years hiding underground with little running water. When Krillin called out to him, Trunks waved at the short fighter and his family with a smile. Best of luck to them both. All three. Best of luck to everyone in the whole world.

It was so nice here. All the buildings not blown apart. Steady electricity. No one dying or already dead.

And Goten, Goten existed here.

They were so lucky, and didn't even know it.

And Goten was leading him through the not-entirely-unfamiliar house, chattering about the latest battle in this timeline, making Trunks the luckiest person in the entire universe. Especially when he was led into this other Trunks' bedroom and politely helped remove his dampened jacket.

Now his stomach was twinging and felt pinched without the jacket that Goten took to hang in the bathroom. Felt all self-conscious in his black shirt and sure that his scars disgusted the other man. The other Trunks probably didn't have any marks, was all perfect and young…though Trunks personally felt a scared child in front of Goten.

"Is your shirt wet too? Your pants?"

…it wouldn't be right to lie, Trunks reminded himself. No lying. "No, no, they're fine." His voice was beginning to crack. Goten wandered through the collection of rooms that made up Trunks' 'bedroom' all easily. Obviously, he'd spent a lot of time here.

He had a nice bed, this other Trunks. You had to hand it to him on that. Goten was probably regularly laying on it, naked and beautiful enough to stop a storm, trembling at a purple-haired man's touches, grabbing the other fighter, looking up with adoration—

"Trunks?" Goten was touching his arm.

"GOTEN-" There was frantic thudding of boots against the hardwood floors. Then the door burst open to reveal the other Trunks with ruffled hair. "Goten!"

Then his voice becoming a hiss that the evil androids must have had to hear every time he confronted them. Not a pleasant sound. "You."

They had the same boots, Trunks reflected quietly.

"What are you doing here? Both of you? Where's your jacket? Where?"

"Um. In the bathroom."

Gingerly, Trunks' twin walked through the room, and looked things over suspiciously in the bathroom. Practically sniffing the air. Had he been able to sense what his counterpart wanted? The sick thoughts and fantasies? Tried to save his innocent, straight friend?

Or worse, trying to save his lover from this other Trunks' clumsy grasp.

He glared at Trunks as one might a rat that had eaten all the food and left only droppings behind. "What are you doing here?"

The pauses came purely from his dastardly Saiyan side. "Goten wanted me…to take off my jacket…and put on something dry." Was this how his father felt when beating an enemy?

There were little red lines growing in the other man's eyes. "Is that…so?"

"Yeah," Goten broke in with, holding a dark grey jacket out for the older Trunks. "'Course."

"Uh…huh."

The two Trunks' glared at each other, keeping a careful space between them while Goten cheerfully helped pull his jacket on. "Wow, it's so tight. You're definitely bigger than the other Trunks.

"I think you're stronger too. We totally have to spar! Right now, huh? Or maybe we could eat something first? You know," Goten mumbled. "Together? Or something?"

Trunks nodded, dry-mouthed. "Sure, whatever you want."

The dark-haired man grabbed his hand and began dragging him back towards the party. "See you later. Other Trunks!"

It wasn't honorable to rub a victory in someone's face. So he settled for an extra large smile aimed at the other Trunks who looked ridiculous in those shorts and handkerchief. Who was so clearly wrong-footed and shocked that he looked even stupider. Especially in those boots he'd clearly stolen the idea from this Trunks.

If someone had asked him what he was feeling at this moment it would be: incredibly happy. Even when he tripped on his own feet on the stairs and tumbled into Goten and to fall in front of his sister who could raise a single judgmental eyebrow just like their mother.
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Doppelganger