Under Duress

Title: Under Duress

Summary: Mirai Trunks temporarily takes up residence in the past, and Goten is determined to get into his pants. Present Trunks, still in denial about his affection for the youngest Son, just can’t imagine why he’s not too thrilled about Goten’s new obsession.

Note: Goten – 21, Trunks – 22, Mirai Trunks – 30, Gohan – 32


Awesome Incarnate: Thank you for the lovely review! I read through the chapter again, after I had put it down for a while, and I can see where you would find it rushed. Granted, if I ever revised it, I would probably only expand Vegeta’s part. I’ll keep that in mind though, as I write the rest. I hope I’ve fixed it this time around!

wickedeve: Thank you very much!

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Chapter Two: Sharing Is Caring (It Can Be Fun)
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Goten skipped merrily down the halls of Capsule Corporation towards the indoor courtyard. This new version of Trunks was already just as satisfying as the stories he had heard about him. The man had barely spoken to him, but Goten was already intrigued. There was an air of mystery about him that he simply could not ignore. Perhaps, it was all of Gohan’s storytelling—listening to him, you would have thought Mirai Trunks had destroyed the androids and Cell single-handedly. However, Goten recognized it as the young mind’s tendency to romanticize a hero. Goten smiled. For all his brother’s stories, he had caught himself fantasizing about the lone warrior at several points in his life.

The door to the courtyard opened automatically as the motion sensor recognized his arrival. Raking his hand through unruly black spikes, he called out to his closest friend. Goten spotted the man next to a tree with one of the smaller dinosaurs that roamed the area, and he made his way up to him with a bright smile on his lips.

“Hey there, best friend.”

“What have you done?”

Blue eyes were instantly on him, and Goten’s smile turned into a nervous grin. His hand quickly went behind his head and he laughed.

“What do you mean? Why did I have to do something?”

Trunks said nothing at first, simply raising one eyebrow. A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Probably because every sentence that starts with, ‘Hey there, best friend,’ always ends with me covering your ass for whatever mess you’ve made.”

“Hey, I learned it from you.”

Goten gave his friend a winning smile, and Trunks shook his head, unable to disagree. He patted the blue dinosaur on the head, having fed the elegant reptile, and she roared contentedly, nuzzling him before she walked away.

“So…you remember we had plans for today? You know…plans that involve your wallet and my new pants?”

Trunks put his fingers to his lips, eyes looking at the skylight above. “I don’t seem to recall… New pants…? My wallet?”

“Dammit, Trunks.”

Hearing his friend’s teasing laughter, Goten pouted.

“You said, Trunks. You owe me after setting me up with that jerk-face last week.”

“How was I supposed to know that he had a toenail fetish, of all things?”

Trunks continued his laughter, and Goten’s face colored hotly as he remembered all the possible ways that a man could find a toenail arousing. He exhaled with a shudder.

“I really should be asking you for more than an expensive pair of slacks.”

“Aw, Goten, lighten up. These are designer pants. They’re worth way more than that guy!”

Trunks pushed short lavender hair out of his eyes with his fingertips, wrinkling his nose when they fell back into place. He draped his arm over his best friend’s shoulder and led him out of the large room. His fingers flew deftly over the keypad next to the doorframe, entering the numerical password that effectively locked the automatic door behind him.

“I don’t know why I keep going out with the guys you set me up with,” the slightly shorter man complained. “I mean, are you even trying? God, I swear, when I find new people for you to hang out with, they’re always pretty swell folks. Normal, with regular fetishes… I don’t hear any complaints from you the next morning, you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

Goten sighed, aware that he was being ignored.

“I swear,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I get two of you and neither of you listen to me.”

“What did you just say?” Trunks hissed, his demeanor immediately turning icy.

“Oops. Did I say two of you?” His sudden laugh was high-pitched. “I meant…coo…coo…ca-choo?”

“You’re a terrible liar. Exactly what do you mean, ‘two of me’?”

“Um…”

“Spit it out, Goten!”

“Well…I mean…it’s just that I was looking for you earlier to nag you about my pants and then I noticed that you had two ki signals and then I just went to the closest one and then I tried to pull you along so we could go to the store and then you said you weren’t really you but you were you from the future and then—”

“Me from the future?” Trunks interrupted, his lavender brows pulled together in aggravated consternation.

Goten nibbled on his thumbnail. Trunks’ aura had begun fluctuating, and he could see that the young prince was doing his best to keep his temper in check. A frown creased his features as he stretched his senses to seek out his future counterpart. Goten shifted uneasily from one foot to another, watching his friend’s frown deepen. It was starting to seem as if he would not be getting his free pants today.


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The walk to Bulma’s private laboratory proved to be a long one, as Mirai Trunks decided to take the scenic route. He knew the hallways by heart, knew every shortcut to get to any room he pleased. As he walked, he took note of all of the subtle differences in the compound, from the photographs on the wall to the plants on the hallway tables. He smiled as the handy little bots that his grandfather had first constructed scurried across the floor and whizzed past his ear. Catching one easily in the air, he brought the round robot to his face, examining it. The logo was the same but the design and the colors were not. When he released the bot, it once again continued on its course to fulfill its programmed commands.

Running his hand through his long lavender hair, he continued towards his mother’s lab. He slowed his pace, however, when he realized a familiar energy was advancing towards him. He frowned, instantly recognizing his own ki.

Finally, he stopped completely and decided to wait for the other to reach him. It only took a few moments before he saw his mirror image casually strolling down the hallway. Though his expression was calm, the irritation was clear behind his narrow blue eyes.

Goten, who had been walking purposefully behind him, was talking frantically in Trunks’ ear, as if trying to convince him of something.

“He’s really a great guy, Trunks. I mean, I only talked to him for a minute, and he didn’t say much, but I can already tell that—”

“Just shut up, Goten.”

Goten closed his mouth, pouting. The younger Trunks was not intending to snap at him, but ever since Goten had let it slip that he had run into this man from the future, the dark-haired man had been determined to prove to him that his anger was not entirely justified. It was going terribly.

There in the hallway stood two of the same man, and Goten sighed in defeat for the second time that day. He took a step to the side, feeling the palpable energy streaming from Trunks’ aura. Mirai Trunks stood a few paces ahead of him, facing him without fear. In fact, if Goten were reading the older man correctly, he would say that Mirai Trunks appeared amused. This was not lost on the young man next to him, and Trunks gritted his teeth in annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” Trunks asked coldly.

Mirai Trunks, having been previously warned about the nature of this encounter, was not fazed by his counterpart’s anger. However, he did sigh, realizing that he would have to repeat the reason for his presence several times.

“I’m just here for a little break.”

“Oh, you can’t tough it out back in your own timeline? Jealous of the peace we have here?”

Mirai Trunks pursed his lips. “No. Actually, there’s been no real threat in my timeline for years.” He paused, debating how much information he wanted to reveal to this obviously more imbalanced version of himself. “I’m simply here to take a recommended breather from all the stress of rebuilding my world.”

Trunks narrowed his eyes, looking up slightly, even more annoyed that the man was taller than him. He wanted to punch him, to wipe the arrogant smirk off the face that looked so much like his own. He hated this guy, this mirror image that had done nothing and everything to him at the same time.

“You’re not welcome here.”

The statement was clear and inarguable, and Trunks turned on his heel. He shoved his hands in his pockets and barely glanced at Goten, who had been standing awkwardly near the wall during the entire ordeal.

“Come on, Goten. I thought you wanted me to buy you something.”

Goten stared at the short-haired prince, eyes wide with surprise. Honestly, he had expected much more violence to occur during their meeting. He looked at Mirai Trunks, who shrugged, and he rubbed his arm absently.

“Well, yeah. I told you. But he’s really a great guy once you get to know him,” he said, typical Son grin in place.

Mirai Trunks gave him a small smile in return.

“Go-ten.”

Trunks said his name with the exigency that only a Saiya-jin prince could muster. The younger boy perked his ears at the sound of his name spoken with such command. As if his Saiya-jin instinct reminded him that he was a subordinate in the presence of higher rank, he nodded once to Mirai and turned to follow Trunks, but not without the bubbly skip subtly in his step.

Mirai Trunks scratched his head, finally allowing his confusion to surface on his features. He continued on his way to his mother’s lab, very intent on asking her about his counterpart’s strange behavior. Did he know about the way Goten had acted with him earlier? Or was it something else? He was certain he hadn’t physically done anything to harm the younger man. Their brief, albeit tense, encounter just then had been the first time he had seen the now adult version of himself since he arrived.

He frowned as he walked with a newfound quickness in his gait. When he reached the closed door of the laboratory, he stared at the keypad for a moment. He knew the password to the room in his timeline, but he wasn’t sure it would be the same this time around. He punched in a combination of letters and numbers and smiled when a display screen opened up in front of him. He was prompted to place his hand on the screen, and as he did, the computer scanned his print, beeping satisfactorily. Another gadget dropped down from the ceiling and scanned his retina as a final check and the computer chirped happily.

“Welcome, Trunks.”

The door slid open automatically and he breezed through, finding his mother hunched over a computer screen. The familiar sight made his heart lurch with sudden homesickness.

“Uh, hello, mother.”

Bulma perked up, turning around in her swivel chair to see her son from the future.

“Oh, Trunks! I’m glad you’re here! Everyone is coming over tomorrow to see you! I’ve programmed the bots to cook up a wonderful meal for everyone, plus enough for all of the Saiya-jin bellies attending.”

She chuckled lightly. Mirai smiled at his mother, who still appeared as spritely as ever. It never ceased to amaze him how young she always managed to look, no matter her age.

“I’m glad. But I have a question for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I met with, er, the other Trunks just a minute ago. He didn’t seem too pleased to see me, to say the least. I was wondering if you new why. Goten mentioned something about an…injustice…?”

Bulma blinked bright blue eyes. “Goten’s here too? Oh, but don’t worry about Trunks. He’s probably just cranky because now he’ll have to share.”

The pretty woman waved a well-manicured hand loftily, dismissing the topic. Mirai Trunks titled his head to the side.

Share? Share what? His toys? …Goten?

Before he could stop himself, he realized he was actually entertaining several thoughts of sharing the chipper young man with his other self. Frowning, he silently chastised himself for thinking like such a horny teenager. He was here for a relaxing getaway, not for sexual escapades with Gohan’s younger brother. And by his calculations, much younger brother.

Bulma saw his frown, mistaking it for concern for his other self.

“Hey, don’t worry, sweetie,” she said. “He’ll get used to you soon. He just needs a moment to adjust.”

Mirai nodded, tossing his mother a half-smile. “Thanks.”

“Did you talk to your father?”

The lavender-haired man chuckled lightly. “Talk? I don’t think that’s how our relationship works. We did spar though.”

“Oh yeah? Did you win?”

“No, not at all. I’m not extremely far behind him, but I’m pretty sure his daily regimen is more…rigorous than mine.”

Bulma smiled. Mirai casually walked over to his mother, peeking over her shoulder at the bright computer screen.

“So…what are you up to?” he asked with the tone of a curious child.

“Oh, nothing exciting really,” the woman responded with a laugh, enjoying her son’s company. The Trunks she had raised stopped asking questions about her business in the lab after he went off to college. “But Trunks is going to take over the company at some point, and I want to make sure everything is in order before I just hand it over to him.”

“Ah. Well,” he began slowly, “what if he doesn’t want to?”

Bulma immediately gave him a sharp look that even Vegeta would manage to cringe at, and he held up his hands in surrender, laughing nervously.

“I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s really not an option,” she began. “He’s the only heir, and this is a family business. I can’t imagine having to let someone else take over it.”

Bulma looked sadly at her hands perched delicately over the keyboard, and suddenly Mirai understood a little more about why his own mother was so adamant about him taking charge of Capsule Corporation. He made a note to be a little less cranky about it when he returned to his timeline.

“Well, I’m sure it will all work out.”

She looked up at him and he smiled, and the kindness in his eyes reflected that of her younger son when he would finally let his guard down. Bulma returned the smile and patted his hand that had found her shoulder. She gave it a quick squeeze and giggled.

“Of course it will. Look how well you turned out. I must be doing something right!”

Mirai fidgeted and threaded his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he had picked up in order to hide his emotions, particularly his anger or his embarrassment. Bulma chuckled at her alternate son’s attempt to cover his blush, reading him as easily as she would an open book.

“You’re just too cute, son!” she said grabbing his cheeks and pinching.

“Thanks…? …Ow.”

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Argh, this chapter. >_< Tell me what you think!