The Broken Road

Cynergy—Yes, finally, an end to the angst! I’m glad you liked it. Oh yeah, tons of Gohan and Trunks drama in store for next time around, don’t you worry. The addiction must be fed lol.

marc—Thank you so much! I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many kind words from you all in one place. Warmed my cold heart, it did. What you said about not wanting to change anything when you finish the chapter was especially gratifying because I hate when I’m reading a good fic and then something happens and I just think, “Oh goddammit, did you have to? Really?” It’s the whole reason I wrote this!

Macha—Uh oh, if you were lost last time then you’ll really be lost this time. I know it’s been a while. I’d suggest reading the end of last chapter before starting this one lol. Anyway, Goku? He’s just fine… Don’t you trust me? I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Goku…. :-P~

Lunamaru—Yay for father-son bonding. You’re right about Goku and Gohan’s relationship :) It’s definitely deep. I can see why you’d be inclined to explore it in your writing. And you do a very nice job with it, too! As far as Gohan’s emotions, interesting you said sadness or anger were top on your list at the moment. I had such a hard time figuring out how he would respond to all this! But, yeah, I’m so proud of Trunks. At the beginning I think he would have done anything to avoid being alone. But now he has chosen to save his friendship with Goten at the expense of their relationship and also put Gohan and Goten’s feelings ahead of his own. I think he deserves a reward :) Thank you for your review and support! xo

Velvet—Thanks, hun! Glad to make you giggle ;)

Krissy—I think I mostly answered your review in email so I won’t repeat it here, but I was so, so happy (and sort of amazed actually) to read how it affected you. Thanks so much for sharing that with me. Oh and about Gohan, don’t even get me started on where Toriyama went with him! We all know this is how he would really be! Anyway, glad to have you along for the ride :)

The Angry Buddha—Lol @ Trunks’s ‘defeatist behavior.’ Like I said in IM, he is Trunks! He shouldn’t have to work so hard! If Gohan wants it, he’s gonna have to come and get it….

Camui—You’re totally right about Goten. You may seem like a crazy girl, but you know what you’re talkin’ about ;-)

nivell—To be honest, I kinda wish they could share him, too. Every time I hear that Britney song “3”….damn, just…damn. Anyway! I wouldn’t be surprised if Trunks tries to talk them into a threesome at some point in the future, once everything cools off. And you know he can be very persuasive lol. Maybe one day when I’m done with this story I’ll write some offshoot oneshots like a three-way makeup scene and “The Trifecta” ;-)

Rayne—That’s so funny. I was wondering where you went, actually! I got your reviews on my other stories a few months back, but never this one. So that explains it! Thank you very much for everything you said. Most interesting was what you said about Gohan ending up your favorite character. Like I recently said to another friend, I’m always trying to write about Trunks but someone else ends up stealing the show lol. You are completely right about the whole “accident,” by the way. Very perceptive ;-) Oh, and I hope you got all your papers done!

Awesome Incarnate—Thank you for getting off your “lazy ass” and reviewing!! Heheheh. Well I answered at length in email, so I won’t repeat it here, but I’m sorry if you were forced to read it a fourth time. This took forever!

The Drooj—Gee, I don’t know whether to be complimented or not that you think it’s a success as far as slash fanfiction goes… It’s not exactly the most prestigious of literary genres, but hey, I’ll take it. Thank you for your comment :) Though, I have to respectfully disagree with you about the OCs detracting from an otherwise fine narrative. You are, of course, entitled to your opinion. It’s just that, in this particular case, it’s wrong :-P Because they are plot devices necessary for both main-character development and for getting information to the reader that s/he would otherwise have no way of knowing. If they weren’t there, then I would have to include awkward, clunky paragraphs of omniscient narration or random, unlikely conversations between the main characters to accomplish the same thing. I understand and sympathize with the general disinclination to see OCs in fanfiction, but I assure you, the narrative would not be as good without them.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry that this took so long. I don’t even wanna talk about it! I hope that this satisfies you guys for awhile, though I have a feeling you’re gonna want to kill me for the ending… I’ll try, try, try to post the next one sooner.

Chapter 17

The Supreme Kai approached Goku where he stood at the Lookout, gazing with somber features into the Kai’s crystal ball. The image of the two youngest demis, embracing on the dark landscape of the faraway planet, glowed on the surface of the glass.

When Supreme Kai had shown up beside him in the moments before their ship crashed, and whisked him away from disaster, Goku had been stunned to find himself at the Lookout, surrounded by family and friends. Piccolo, Dende, Vegeta, Bulma, and Popo kept their distance while Gohan explained to his father why they left the boys to fend for themselves. Goten and Trunks, it seemed, had a lot of issues to work out and the only way the Z-fighters thought they could do it was if their lives practically depended on it; if they were left with nothing and no one else to turn to.

The others had watched, gathered around the crystal ball like a television, as the boys rose from the ashes that day in more ways than one. But nobody had been more surprised than Goku to see the scene unfold. Until then, he had no idea there was any truth to Vegeta’s suspicions that the teens were fighting because of their feelings for each other. And now, though he was happy to see the boys reunited, he felt more estranged from Goten than ever.

He turned his gaze to the prince of all Saiyans and his eyes were met by those all-seeing black ones. It was with good reason, Goku supposed, that he’d been the last to know about Goten and Trunks. Until they started fighting, Goku hadn’t even really paid attention.

The years he had missed with his family as a result of his choices were never a consequence Goku intended and never something he accepted without remorse. But by the time he returned home from Otherworld ten years ago, Goten already followed his brother around like a puppy; and he had a close friendship with Trunks, just as Gohan always had with Piccolo. As far as Goku could tell, everyone was perfectly happy that way. Indeed, it seemed as though his family had become quite self-sufficient without him.

It was only in hindsight that he recognized his son’s recent behavior for what it really was. And, while Goku doubted he’d be winning any Father of the Year awards any time soon, cries for help were his forte. He turned to the purple deity waiting nearby.

“Can you take me to see him, Supreme Kai?”

***

Goten lifted his head from his friend’s shoulder abruptly. He stared at a point on the edge of the forest where two shadowy figures took shape. He wouldn’t have trusted his eyes, but there could be no doubt who that energy belonged to.

“Dad!” Goten shouted, taking off at a run in Goku’s direction. “Dad, I can’t believe it! You’re okay! We looked everywhere, we—.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you, son. I was back on Earth, that’s all. Supreme Kai pulled me out of the ship using instantaneous movement.”

“Goku, nice of you to show up.” Trunks greeted cheerfully as he took his place alongside Goten. Then he cast a judgmental glance at their other visitor. “As for you, thanks for nothing! You know, Goten,” the teen addressed his friend, lifting his nose in the air, “this isn’t the first time he’s saved Goku and left us to die. I’m starting to sense a pattern here.”

The pureblood smiled. Only Vegeta’s son would talk to the supreme ruler of all life in the universe as if the god owed him something.

“I assure you,” Kibito promised, “if you had been in any danger, I would have taken all three of you home with me.”

Ignoring the argument, Goten stepped closer to his father. He didn’t really care where Goku had been or why Supreme Kai took him away. What mattered was that Trunks had been right. He had a second chance to tell Goku how he felt and he wasn’t going to wait.

“Dad?” He stared up at the tall Saiyan. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m sorry about last week at the lake. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean it.”

“No, you were right to speak up, son.” Turning to properly face the boy, Goku put a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve an explanation, Goten. It’s just that I’m afraid I don’t really have one.”

Goku stared into eyes identical to his own. Sure, he could give Goten reasons. But what would they matter? The teen didn’t really want answers. He just wanted his dad. And while Goku couldn’t make up for the mistakes of the past, he could be the person now that Goten needed him to be.

“Whaddaya say we give this whole father-son thing another try,” he suggested. “I promise, I’m really not such a bad guy if you get to know me.”

Goten smiled and shook his head. “I’d like that.” Then, more animatedly, “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Goku began, “cuz we have a lot of catching up to do. Like for starters, when the heck did you guys start kissing!?”

“Da-ad . . .” Goten begged his father’s discretion as his cheeks colored a deep red.

“Oh, no need to be embarrassed, son! Trunks is a real looker. Just like his mom.” He approached the royal demi and slapped one of his shoulders like a stamp of approval. “And strong, too. Like his dad.”

Goten only stared at them aghast while Trunks broke into nervous laughter.

“Boy, I could hardly believe it when I saw that! Tell ‘em Supreme Kai.”

The deity shot a wary smile at Trunks, knowing what was coming.

“What do you mean saw it?” the aforementioned Saiyan demanded, forgetting self-consciousness in favor of suspicion. If Goku and the Kai were anywhere near close enough to see them, he and Goten would’ve known it.

“When we were watching you on Supreme Kai’s crystal ball,” Goku announced, oblivious to the offended gasp of his audience. “Oh, yeah, everyone was there! Me, your mom and dad. Hmm, Piccolo and Dende. Mr. Popo and Supreme Kai of course. Oh and Old Kai, too. Man, you shoulda seen the look on his face—.”

“Excuse me,” Trunks cried finally, “this is not a pay-per-view event!”

But then he felt Goten’s hand on his arm and shut up after one look at his friend. Goten was staring at the pureblood apprehensively.

“What about Mom?” Goten swallowed. “Was she—?”

“Listen to me, son,” Goku cut him off abruptly. “I know sometimes it’s hard to tell, but your mother . . . . She only acts the way she does because she wants the best for you and your brother. Because she loves you very much. And so do I, Goten. We want you to be happy. So just leave worrying about your mom to me.”

Trunks thought that Goku had rather skillfully avoided the question. But, however Chichi responded to the news, Goku’s solemn promise to insulate his son from the negative was all the youngest demi needed to hear. His features relaxed and the fearful look was replaced by one of gratefulness, even pride.

The Capsule heir watched them have their moment, truly happy for his friend. But he was struck by the bittersweet realization that it wasn’t only Goku’s absences that had caused the rift between them over the years. The secrets he and Goten had been keeping most of their lives did much to isolate them from the others. And whether Goten knew it at that moment or not, in deciding to take his side Goku had already cleared one of the biggest hurdles on their road to a healthy relationship.

Goten became aware of Trunks watching them and it reminded him of something important. “Hey, Dad, was Gohan there, too? Watching the pay-per-view?”

Trunks rolled his eyes.

“Well, sure. The whole thing was his idea, actually.”

“Then I need to see to him right away. Can you take me there?”

Goku turned away from him. “What about it, Supreme Kai? Can we get a lift home?”

Kibito bowed in that reverent way he had despite the fact that he was the most venerated of gods. “Of course.”

But as the four of them linked arms to prepare for transport, Goku scratched his temple. “Oh, you know, maybe we ought to drop Trunks off first. Bulma’s been worried sick about him. I guess she feels pretty bad about sending us all into space on a ship with no wires or brakes or anything. But hey, all’s well that ends well, I say!”

***

“You sabotaged our ship!?”

Dawn was breaking at Capsule Corporation when Trunks burst into the kitchen of the main house. The blue-haired woman jumped at the sound of her son’s voice while Vegeta, who’d long sensed his approach, calmly shoveled another forkful of breakfast into his mouth.

The teen focused his condemning gaze on his mother and Bulma cringed, thinking that while Trunks certainly had her eyes the glare was all Vegeta. She held her arm out and pointed a finger at the Saiyan prince.

“Your father made me do it!”

“You could have at least shipwrecked them on a planet with increased gravity,” the accused complained and Trunks relaxed his posture with a sigh.

“My parents,” he gestured at them hopelessly. “My own parents tried to kill me.”

Vegeta took a leisurely gulp from his mug. “If I’m trying to kill you, son, you’ll know it.”

Trunks crossed the room and picked up a shiny red apple from where it sat among some other fruit in a bowl. “Is there even such a thing as black star dragon balls?”

“Of course not,” his father answered. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, all I can say is . . . .” He tossed the apple into the air and caught it then shot a quick smile at Bulma, much to her relief. “Thanks.”

On the next throw, however, Vegeta reached out and snagged the apple from midair above his hand.

“If you want to thank me, you can start by eating your own food.”

He bit into the piece of fruit with a loud crunch and Trunks stared blankly at the back of his head. That sound was immediately followed by a cracking noise when the wooden spoon Bulma was holding met her husband’s skull.

“What is your problem, Vegeta?”

“For gods’ sake, the boy can fend for himself! By the time I was his age, I had entire armies under my command. And I did it all without my mother suckling me at her teat.”

“Oh, and I bet she would’ve been real proud of her son – the homicidal maniac!”

“Ugh, humans!” he growled.

“Hey, buddy, I don’t know when you last looked at an evolutionary chart but—.”

With his parents thus preoccupied, Trunks decided it was time to take his leave. He got the feeling this was like foreplay to them and didn’t particularly want to be there for the next round. Besides, he was sure he had dirt in places he didn’t even know he had places and even more than food he really needed a shower.

The sounds of their arguing followed him as he exited the kitchen and headed for the nearest bathroom, taking some comfort in the fact that life was slowly returning to normally abnormal.

***

Gohan dropped another pile of his clothes onto the couch. Wanting to be sure he was at the Lookout in time to meet his dad, he had packed his things hurriedly at the apartment in West City. Then, unable to fall asleep after the rendezvous with the Z-fighters, he decided it was as good a time as any to start settling in to his new home. Now his once neatly pressed outfits were lying in haphazard piles around him and it didn’t make this grim task any easier.

He wasn’t happy to be back here, in the house he once shared with Videl.

So far away from Trunks.

So unfortunately close to his mother.

But Gohan didn’t want to impose any longer on his hosts at the Lookout, where he’d been staying since the previous weekend, so he forced the second thoughts from his mind and returned to folding.

And sorting.

And organizing.

And arranging.

God, was this what his life had been like before? So monotonous and dull?

He was startled from his gloomy thoughts when he felt the energy signals of his father and brother approaching. Standing to greet the two as they materialized in the room, he realized that this was the moment when all he had given up would be worth it. When he saw Goten’s smiling face and got that warm, fuzzy feeling that only the happiness of a loved one could bring. When Goten looked him right in the eye and said—.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Gohan!?”

“Er . . . ?”

Goten didn’t even wait for his brother to answer. Marching right over to him, he knocked on the other’s forehead. It wasn’t often that Gohan was wrong and he was right, so Goten figured he’d better play it up while he could. “Anyone home in there?”

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” his brother asked, slapping his hand away.

“Why don’t you stop me when this rings a bell.” Goten began counting off the offenses on his fingers. “Not speaking to Trunks for five days. Almost ruining his big presentation. Breaking up with him in the hallway at work. Oh,” Goten added as he glanced around the room, “and moving out behind his back while he’s stranded in outer space.”

“Now, wait a minute!” the older demi protested. “You’ve got it all wrong, Goten, I—. I didn’t . . . break up with him in the hallway.” Gohan faltered, then offered with as much dignity as he could manage, “It . . . was the elevator.”

But the elder Son was easily defeated. He’d been so worried about Goten’s feelings that he hadn’t really thought about what Trunks was going through. And in retrospect he couldn’t believe he had rationalized treating a friend so badly.

Especially after—.

“After you slept with him!” Goten noted, as if reading his mind. “Boy when you said you make bad decisions all the time, you weren’t kidding, were you, Big Brother?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Goku interjected, waving his arms and regarding the boys with wide eyes. He was trying his hardest to follow along but this was starting to remind him of one of old Master Roshi’s romance programs. “I thought that Trunks and Goten were together!”

“Dad, please,” the teenager admonished quietly. “That was so three weeks ago.”

“But, that kiss—.” Gohan was at a loss to interpret his brother’s behavior. When Goten had found him and Trunks together, he had seemed devastated by their relationship. Even if he was angry at Gohan for the way he handled breaking it off, now that the boys were back together, hadn’t it all been for the best?

“That kiss,” Goten informed him bluntly, “was goodbye.”

“Goten, I . . . I don’t understand.”

“That’s my point!” The other demi gestured emphatically. “You totally don’t get it, Gohan.”

His older brother sat back on the arm of the nearby couch. He ran a hand through his hair, and Goten could clearly see the guilt reflected in his charcoal eyes.

“I was only trying to do what I thought was best.” Gohan attempted to reassure himself, but all the good intentions in the world could do little to ease his mind right then.

“I know,” Goten admitted, and his voice was much more sympathetic this time. He walked over to stand next to the firstborn and nudged him gently. “I know exactly what you were trying to do, Gohan. And you’re the best big brother a guy could ever have.”

Goten stared at him thoughtfully. Gohan had only been eleven years old when Goten was born and Goku died. But he had accepted the things he couldn’t change and filled their father’s shoes without complaining. And he had somehow managed to fit raising his kid brother in between graduating with honors and making sure the family didn’t starve. Goten realized that, probably long before he was even born, Gohan had willingly sacrificed for the good of others the happy-go-lucky childhood that Goten selfishly clung to even now.

And yet he had never asked for anything in return; and Goten sincerely doubted he had anything to give that could provide his brother the kind of happiness his brother had always provided him.

That was . . . until now.

“Thing is,” he mused, “what’s best for me and Trunks isn’t really for you to decide. The choice was his to make, Gohan. And he chose you.”

When Gohan turned to face him, Goten met his eyes without wavering. The youngest Son’s expression was open, as it always was. He couldn’t hide his emotions the way the others did and Gohan had long ago learned that he could gauge his brother’s feelings just by looking at him. Though, search as he might, he could find nothing but contentment in his childlike expression now.

“It’s okay, really,” the teen insisted preemptively. “I have another relationship I need to be working on right now.” Goten glanced sidelong at their dad who returned his optimistic smile. Then he turned back to his brother.

But before the boy could say anything else, Gohan stood up and draped a heavy arm around his neck. He dragged Goten to him and buried his face in the spiky hair. Goten closed one eye as a few stray pieces fell into his face and giggled awkwardly at his brother’s overt display of affection.

It seemed to him that Gohan always had some profound thing or other to say; some precious nugget of wisdom to impart. And to see words fail him now was perplexing for the smaller boy. But he happily pressed his cheek into his brother’s shirt and tried not to squirm too much while Gohan held tight to him.

When at last he let go, it was only to trap the younger demi in a headlock and rub his knuckles across Goten’s scalp, messing up his hair like he did when they were kids.

“C’mon, Gohan! Knock it off!” Goten demanded, attempting to wriggle out of the other’s grasp while smacking blindly at his arms. Really though, he was glad for the lighthearted gesture and when the two finally disentangled, it was with matching grins.

“So, let me get this straight,” Goku interrupted, a contemplative look on his face. “First Goten was with Trunks and now Gohan is with Trunks. So . . . if Trunks was going to make it a trifecta . . . .” Alarmed, he glanced from one boy to the other. “Then that would mean—!”

Goten leapt toward the older Saiyan. “Nevermind about that, Dad!” He ushered the pureblood toward the door, all the while flashing his teeth at Gohan in a conciliatory smile. “Let’s just leave the lovebirds to work things out, mm-kay?” Goten suggested, pushing a blinking Goku onto the lawn.

Once his father was safely outside, Goten waited until he started across the grass for home. He watched Goku disappear through the door to the kitchen but didn’t follow just yet. Instead he leaned back into the room, fingering the doorframe. “Hey, Gohan?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering . . . . Can I still run to him with good news and turn to him when it’s bad?”

Gohan pressed his lips into a thin line and Goten worried that he had upset his brother by the way he was refusing to speak again. But finally the older demi shook his head. “Of course you can, Goten. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Appeased, the teen turned to leave, but stopped to offer one final piece of advice.

“Good luck, Big Brother. He’s not exactly Mr. Forgive-and-Forget, you know.” He realized Gohan would have a twice-scorned Trunks on his hands and he really didn’t envy the man his task. Though he did think it might be fun to see the demi-Saiyan prince put someone else through the ringer for once. “Hey, just make sure you’re not wearing anything he gave you the next time you see him!”

While Gohan contemplated it, his eyes came to rest on the sofa where his clothes still lay in untidy piles. He eyed the mahogany fabric of the only outfit that didn’t belong there.

“You know something, Goten? I think I’ll make sure that I am.”

***

Trunks landed on the balcony of his apartment just after dark. As soon as he’d finished showering, he had passed out from sheer exhaustion in his old bedroom. When he awoke, Vegeta had graciously allowed him to dine with them, commenting that he would need his energy for the next day, when the Saiyan prince would implement his new and improved, ultra-sadistic training program. Bulma had also suggested that Trunks work full-time at the family business starting on Monday to keep him busy until the spring semester began. Then, determining that he’d be spending plenty of time at the Capsule complex as it was, Trunks had once again refused her offer to move back in.

Reaching out now for the handle on the glass door, he automatically scanned the area for Gohan’s energy, though he knew the other man wouldn’t be there. In order to spare him from finding out the hard way by walking into a half empty apartment, Bulma had told Trunks before he left her house that Gohan had moved out. And, although he hadn’t been particularly surprised to hear the news, it somehow stung all the same; especially now, as he stared through the glass into the dark room beyond it.

Opting not to go inside just yet, Trunks lifted off again and floated one story up to the roof of the building. The wrought-iron railing that surrounded it had been decorated with strings of white lights and a few café tables and chairs dotted the rooftop, separated from each other by large potted plants. It would have been a nice place to relax on a moonlit summer night, but now it was deserted, the crisp fall air keeping the building residents inside. Trunks leaned against the railing and looked down at the street below, watching the city move.

He was grateful to be back on Earth and for the familiar sounds of traffic and snippets of conversation echoing off the buildings around him. It was a relief to have his life back – for the most part – even though it wasn’t the way he always imagined it would be.

Trunks raised his ki as a cold breeze picked up. It cut through the thin black leather of the waist-cut jacket he wore with D&G indigo washed jeans, both of which had been chosen more for fashion than for warmth. Surrounding himself with the same invisible energy barrier they used for protection from the wind when flying, the demi-Saiyan watched his hand begin to glow faintly. He didn’t remember just how much of this energy he could channel at one time until it had been absolutely necessary to do so.

To save Goten.

Trunks stared through his spread fingers and focused on the ground again. The people there were gathering on street corners and popping in and out of shops and bars. Some of them walked alone, some in pairs, and others in groups of three and four. He tried to imagine himself among them, and thought maybe instead of spending the night in his empty apartment, he would go out and try to make some friends. But he had known what it really meant to be one with another person; and somehow being surrounded by others – even the millions of others that this city offered – just didn’t compare.

Even if Goten was right and Trunks could have anyone down there that he wanted, he had to wonder, as he rested his elbow on the railing and his chin in his hand, who among them could possibly save him.

Lost in his thoughts, the teen jumped at the sound of his own name.

“Trunks?”

When he turned around he was surprised to see his old roommate standing there.

“Uh—Gohan. When did you—?”

Trailing off, he let his eyes roam move over the other man, statuesque as he looked in tailored Italian wool. His jacket was buttoned over a matching vest and the maroon silk of the tie he wore was visible only for a few inches below his neckline. The deep plum color of the fabric set off his dark eyes and hair just as nicely as Trunks remembered and he found he had a sudden, inexplicable craving for chocolate covered cherries – and one juicy piece of eye candy in particular.

He stopped himself before he could actually lick his lips and cleared his throat instead.

“I, uh . . . I didn’t know you kept that.”

“Yeah,” Gohan mused as he looked down at himself. “Neither did I, actually.”

“Oh, right.” Trunks rubbed the back of his head, remembering how he had slipped the unwanted garment into Gohan’s closet a few days after they argued over it. The suit had been custom-fitted after all and it couldn’t have looked as good on anyone else, so he didn’t see the point of returning it. He figured Gohan would eventually come around and accept it. Or, if not, he’d at least yell at Trunks again when he found it there. It really made no difference to the young prince at the time. He’d have taken attention from his roommate any way he could get it. “Uh, sorry,” he offered a belated apology.

“I didn’t come here about that.”

“Oh.”

Trunks closed his eyes briefly and cursed at himself. He remembered a time when he’d made sport of flustering his roommate. And yet this was the second time now that he’d found himself barely able to form coherent sentences in the other man’s presence. It was embarrassing!

“Goten told me what happened up there.” The older demi glanced skyward and finally the lavender head nodded in understanding. He remembered Goku saying that it was Gohan’s idea to send the boys into space in the hopes they’d reconcile. And suddenly he found he had plenty to say.

“So, Goten told you we weren’t getting back together and you came here to try and change my mind.” Trunks turned his back to his visitor dismissively and, with a bemused snicker, resumed watching the people below. “While I appreciate your concern, Gohan, I’m not quite as useless as you think I am. On occasion, I can actually make a meaningful decision on my own.”

But a moment later, the other demi stood directly beside him, resting his hands on the railing and following the teenager’s gaze toward the ground. Chilly as he was, Trunks was keenly aware of the warmth he could feel at every point where Gohan’s arm touched his, even through the multiple layers of clothing dividing them. He chanced a quick look to his left at the man’s profile.

“That’s not why I came either.”

Gohan sighed. For the second time that week, he found himself at a loss for where to begin the apologies. He had turned his back on Trunks at a time when the other was suffering, simply because he was afraid of the things he felt. The younger demi had called him on that fear from the very beginning; and yet, it was only now that Gohan realized how right his roommate was.

He couldn’t help but recognize the metaphor at work as they stood on the rooftop looking down. It was so much safer to watch life happen below than to it was to get out there and live a life of one’s own. The latter choice required making a leap of faith, falling, and, most likely, ending up broken and bloody on the pavement.

But Trunks had given him a taste of what he’d been missing; the rush that came from standing right at the edge. And he had finally realized that a life without laughter, and spontaneity, and even tears, well . . . that wasn’t really a life at all.

Besides, where had the safe route ever gotten anybody, anyway?

Much to the younger demi’s surprise, Gohan grabbed his hand.

“C’mon,” he said, jumping up onto the railing and physically pulling Trunks up behind him. The teen scrambled to hoist himself to his feet on the slippery rail as his arm was nearly yanked out of the socket. The soul of one black leather loafer slipped and before he even had time to regain his balance, he felt himself being pulled forward as Gohan – who Trunks firmly decided had lost his mind – leapt off the roof and dragged Trunks behind him.

They plummeted toward the ground and the Capsule heir, in his utter confusion, nearly forgot he could fly until the screams of several of those he’d just been watching snapped him out of his reverie. He pulled up and stopped them both a few feet above the ground, amid the frightened gasps of the humans all around them. Gohan hung from his outstretched arm, feet barely scraping the sidewalk. He gazed up at Trunks and after a moment . . . he smiled.

Trunks shook him off.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he demanded as he touched down a second later; but Gohan only stared at him with a sort of dazed grin. The other demi knew damned well they weren’t supposed to use their powers in front of people unless it was an emergency. And as Trunks glanced left and right at the fearful semi-circle gathering around them he wondered when the hell he had become the level-headed one.

“This is just GREAT,” he snapped at Gohan. “I can’t wait to see what kind of headlines they come up with for this one.” The eldest Son took a step toward him and Trunks backed away. “Why did you even come here, Gohan? If you want to make a spectacle of yourself leaping tall buildings in a single bound, then go dig up your Saiyaman costume and just leave me out of it!”

Angrily, he turned toward the door of his building where the doorman was staring at them in shock. Trunks smoothed his hair and jacket, then gestured at the brass handle of the door expectantly as if there was no reason anyone should be behaving any differently than normal.

Stammering, the man pulled open the door but Trunks barely managed one step toward the lobby when he felt a strong grip on his arm, pulling him back. Inertia spun him around and the teen only had time to gasp shortly before Gohan crushed their mouths together.

“Mmph—!” Out of surprise alone the royal demi protested the kiss, his whole body stiffening in response to Gohan’s other arm tightening around his waist. His alert blue eyes darted in the direction of the crowd, but he could already feel the lids growing heavy. And as soon as he closed his eyes, all Trunks was aware of was the heat of Gohan’s body pressed against his own and the gentle but insistent tongue seeking entrance to his mouth. His head swam and he granted access rather automatically, melting into the embrace with alarmingly little resistance.

As the boy’s body grew heavier in his arms, Gohan let go of his wrist and buried his fingers in the short lavender hair at the nape of the other’s neck. Trunks’s own arms hung at his sides and he seemed satisfied to let the other man hold him up. His protestations started to sound a whole lot more like whimpers and by the time Gohan pulled himself off the teen, Trunks leaned forward for more, eyes closed and mouth still slack.

“God, I missed you,” the dark-haired demi breathed when puzzled blue eyes met his. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested and the still-blinking boy stumbled behind as Gohan led him by the hand through the small crowd. When they reached an open portion of sidewalk, they leapt into the air together, quickly leaving the stunned spectators behind.

It took awhile before Trunks found his voice again. “Where are we going?”

Gohan still held his hand and he flew only as far behind the other demi as his outstretched arm would allow.

“Someplace we can talk.”

“I take it the rooftop wasn’t to your liking.”

Gohan smiled but didn’t answer. He could feel Trunks glaring at the back of his head and knew the teen was trying to figure out what was going on in there. But he allowed Gohan to lead him through the air, apparently content to stick around until he figured it out.

“The Lookout?” Trunks wondered aloud as the semi-spherical platform came into view. It rapidly grew larger as they approached and it was only a few seconds until they touched down on the white marble tiles.

“Just a quick pit stop,” Gohan promised. He held up two hands. “Don’t move.”

With that he raced toward the palace and entered the kitchen, finding the Lookout’s residents there. “Hi, Dende,” he greeted. “Hi, Popo. You don’t mind if I grab a few things, do you?” Without waiting for an answer, Gohan began rooting through the cabinets and, after a moment, he went to the window. “Hey, Trunks, are you hungry?”

From across the platform, the royal demi shook his head in the negative and Gohan returned to the fridge. He chose only a few select provisions then shrunk them down with a storage capsule.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll owe ya one. Oh and I’m taking the blanket from the bedroom I’ve been sleeping in. I should . . . uh . . . wash it for you!” he offered with barely a wave over his shoulder, leaving the young Namek and his assistant to stare mystified at the door.

But there was one person he couldn’t slip anything past.

“What are you two up to?”

The gravelly voice of his mentor was unmistakable and Gohan looked up as he dashed back outside. Piccolo hovered above, seated in a meditative pose, his white cape billowing in the upper atmospheric wind. He stared at them as a parent might a couple of naughty children and Gohan put one hand behind his head with a hereditary Son laugh before he grabbed Trunks’s hand and made for the edge. He pulled the royal demi backward, although the boy followed quite willingly. Trunks lifted one hand and waved his fingers at the green man before dropping off the platform after Gohan.

Piccolo snorted as he resumed his mental exercises. Wherever they were going, he had no desire to follow, and he was reminded again how thankful he was to be an asexual creature; not prone to erratic behavior and illogical mood swings at the hands of that absurdity humans called love. But as the Namekian closed his eyes, he smirked nonetheless.

“It’s good to see you happy, kid.”

***

Trunks watched Gohan spread a goose down comforter on white sand. He leaned back against some large boulders that adorned the crescent-shaped beach the other had chosen as their destination and tapped his fingers on the rock. They had traveled due south and it was just as dark here as it had been in West City, though significantly warmer. But he didn’t think that people came to secluded beaches in the middle of the night just to talk. And, while earlier he’d been sure Gohan had lost his mind, it now seemed that he was acting quite deliberately.

Even as his lower body reacted optimistically to the prospect, his other head screamed in protest. Gohan had told him in no uncertain terms that they couldn’t be together, and as much as the rest of him might want one more night, his psyche wouldn’t make it through another week like the one before. And if Gohan thought he could have his cake and eat it, too - sparing Goten’s feelings with a secret romance - the bastard had another thing coming.

It wasn’t until the eldest Son turned to him with a start that Trunks realized he was making dust out of the stone under his fingertips. But as long as he had Gohan’s attention, “Why did you bring me here?”

The older demi looked surprised as he stood up from the place where he’d been kneeling. He had shed his jacket and tie on the blanket, and rolled up his sleeves now as he regarded Trunks with an artless expression. It immediately made the teen feel bad for his harsh tone of voice, but he held his ground.

“I guess I owe you an explanation for all of this, don’t I?”

Trunks crossed his arms with a short sound that indicated that was the least Gohan could do.

“The truth is, I thought it might be a nice place for our first date.”

“Our—? What?” The prince halted, caught off-guard by the admission. “Isn’t it a little late for that?” He tried his best to be cutting but somehow it didn’t come out that way.

“I hope not.”

Gohan took a few steps in his direction and Trunks didn’t say anything when he reached up to touch his cheek, pushing a few strands of hair behind his ear. “I’m so sorry, Trunks,” he whispered. “I know I can’t just ask you to forget the last six days. I’m only asking for a chance to make it up to you.” His thumb traced the teen’s jaw. “Please.”

Finally blue eyes met black. “But Goten . . . .”

“Said that you weren’t getting back together,” Gohan finished, confirming Trunks’s original suspicion. “And I told you I didn’t come to change your mind.”

Trunks stared at him. He had waited for this moment all week; had dreamed about it even. But when he last saw this man, his passionate appeal to Gohan had been met with uncharacteristic coldness and afterward he’d been forced to question his own instincts. He had wondered if all that he once thought he saw in those dark eyes was nothing more than pathetic wishful thinking on his part; the ill-conceived notion of a boy denied affection for too long. And it scared him that Gohan, like Goten, seemed able to turn his feelings on and off at will.

“For whatever it’s worth, Trunks, staying away from you all this time has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And what I said to you in that elevator, it . . . .” The firstborn paused, took a breath and tried again. “It killed me to—.”

“Gohan, don’t.” Trunks shook his head. “Just don’t.”

He had felt the dull ache those memories could evoke enough in recent days to last a lifetime. But . . . if Gohan had ever cared about him, then Trunks could only imagine how difficult the position was that he found himself in that particular morning; not merely torn between his brother and his lover, but a casualty of their war. And although he couldn’t just forget the last seven days, he was sick and tired of dwelling on the past.

Plus, the present was made noticeably brighter by one inescapable fact.

“You’re here now.”

With one finger, Gohan nudged the other’s chin upwards and leaned in close. Trunks could feel lips graze his cheekbone, and if one syllable could express affection, atonement and hope all at the same time, it did when Gohan spoke his name. But as the lips found their way back to his, Trunks stopped the other demi with two hands planted on his chest.

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise that you won’t ever hold back with me again. Do you hear me, Son Gohan? Because I’ll give you everything. But in return, I want all of you.” He punctuated the sentence with a hard poke to the other’s chest. “That’s the way it works. Get it? Because if not, you might as well just leave now.”

Trunks watched the taller Saiyan as he appeared to think it over, but was annoyed when the decision took longer than he thought it should. “Well?” he challenged. “What’s it going to be?”

Gohan lifted one hand in a solemn pledge. “I promise you, Trunks, never again.” With his other arm he anchored the young demi firmly to himself, allowing Trunks to pull him under and not caring if he resurfaced. “Starting right now.”

Azure eyes closed when soft lips covered his. For as many times as he had thought about them in the last week, Trunks had forgotten how ethereal Gohan’s kisses really were. For all the passion behind them, and all the strength the man possessed, his capacity for tenderness was . . . . It was . . . .

Oh, it was maddening!

Trunks held tight to the front of his vest, sliding his hands underneath the silk and gripping it to pull Gohan closer. But the other demi only chuckled, breaking their mouth-to-mouth contact, which was exactly the opposite of what the teen prince intended. He stared at Gohan’s lips.

“So impatient,” they commented. Then, much to his dismay, the older man pulled away. “Sit, would you?” he gestured toward the blanket then focused a small beam of energy on a pile of driftwood he’d collected earlier.

Trunks seated himself as the flames began to leap into the air, lighting the blanket with moving shadows. There was a forest of palm trees behind them and in addition to the crackling of the fire, their leaves made a rustling sound in the tropical breeze. A bright half-moon shone over the water and the black waves that came ashore here were nothing more than ripples and they lapped at the beach quietly.

The whole thing was really quite romantic, Trunks thought, and he peered at Gohan as he placed a carved wooden tray on the sand and began filling the two glasses on it with champagne.

“What’s that for?” he asked, and the older demi shrugged calmly.

“We have a lot to celebrate, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” the prince joked uncomfortably, “like how Chichi’s gonna hold me singlehandedly responsible for her lack of grandchildren?”

“Well,” Gohan considered it as he stood up and rounded the blanket, offering one glass to Trunks before settling down next to him. “If you think she’s scary, you should’ve seen the way Vegeta was looking at me the last time we talked.”

He watched Trunks for a reaction but the teen’s smile was fading as he traced lines in the sand with the heel of one shoe.

“What’s wrong?” Gohan inquired. “Are you really worried about it?”

“No.”

He coaxed the other with a nudge of his elbow. “What is it, then?”

“Nothing,” Trunks insisted, shifting away.

He was avoiding eye contact now and the older demi sat up straighter, turning to face him with the intent to remind him of their promise not to hold anything back. But now that Gohan looked closer he could see a faint pinkness coloring the other’s skin and the problem suddenly struck him.

For all of their sexual escapades, Trunks and Goten had never really been a couple. They had acted on hormones, impulse, and instinct, and outside of those parameters, Trunks wasn’t sure what to do. The normally smug Saiyan before him was entirely out of his element.

And it was downright adorable.

“You’ve never been on a date before, have you?”

“Oh, don’t be stupid.”

Gohan tried hard not to delight in the other’s predicament, but the rare show of reticence made the teen all the more alluring.

“Why don’t you drink your champagne?” he suggested. “It’ll relax you.”

Trunks looked at him as if to say he didn’t need Gohan’s pointers, but lifted the glass to his lips nonetheless. When he took a sip, Gohan tapped the bottom of the glass playfully, spilling bubbly liquid down the prince’s chin. But before he could be angry, Gohan kissed the droplets off his face and followed the sugary trail right down his neck. He could hear Trunks’s breathing slow and felt him begin to relax again almost immediately.

It seemed the teen was all too easy to placate and Gohan was thankful; considering the need would probably arise quite often.

He ran his left hand along the tense muscles beneath the boy’s jacket before sliding it off of one shoulder. Trunks shrugged out of the other sleeve and leaned backwards, reclining onto the blanket and taking Gohan with him. The elder Son allowed his hand to continue wandering, enjoying the way Trunks unwound under his fingers. And when he leaned back, stretching out on the blanket beside the younger demi, the once stormy blue eyes were already glassy.

By the time Trunks smiled up at him, more than a trace of that smugness had returned. “Cheers,” he said, emptying the remainder of the champagne over the front of his jeans.

Gohan shook his head in mock disappointment. Patience would never be one of the young prince’s virtues.

“Oh, Trunks,” he teased, trying his best to sound sympathetic as he pressed his lips to the other’s ear. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, my friend. . . but I plan on taking my time with you.”