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Barracks	By : chayron Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 16996 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Barracks
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39
- 40-Part 40
- 41-Part 41
- 42-Part 42
- 43-Part 43
- 44-Part 44
- 45-Part 45
- 46-Part 46
- 47-Part 47
- 48-Part 48
- 49-Part 49
- 50-Part 50
- 51-Part 51
- 52-Part 52
- 53-Part 53
- 54-Part 54
- 55-Part 55
- 56-Part 56
- 57-Part 57
- 58-Part 58
- 59-Part 59
- 60-Part 60
- 61-Part 61
- 62-Part 62
- 63-Part 63
- 64-Part 64
- 65-Part 65
- 66-Part 66
- 67-Part 67
- 68-Part 68
- 69-Part 69
- 70-Part 70
- 71-Part 71
- 72-Part 72
- 73-Part 73
- 74-Part 74
- 75-Part 75
- 76-Part 76
- 77-Part 77
- 78-Part 78
- 79-Part 79
- 80-Part 80
- 71
- 72
- 73
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.
Warnings: Alternate Universe. Yaoi (male x male). Goten x Trunks and vice versa. Other pairings.
Barracks
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), betaread by werewolfflutist
Part 72
“Why is he looking for you here?”
Goten grabbed his trousers off the floor and turned to look at the prince. Anger and annoyance had burst through Trunks’ voice.
“Because he knows,” the third-class pointed out the obvious and instantly regretted that as a flame of blue fury ignited in the prince’s eyes.
“Did you tell him?” Trunks spat; he had seen the two conversing more than once, which was very unusual in itself. He knew for a fact that despite being an elite, Ardema Tayera had dated a second-class in the past. Perhaps that was something he should be concerned about.
In a few jerky movements, Goten pulled his trousers on. “Do you think I go around the base boasting at the top of my lungs that I get to fuck the Saiyan prince or something?” He threw his shirt on and went to the other room. “He came to my room one evening drunk out of his head. He knows I’m a Legendary. He also asked about us.” He turned to look at the prince, who had followed him. “Listen, it may come as a surprise to you, but some people here already had their suspicions about us even before the war.”
“Did they now?” Trunks grunted, angrily trying to tie a bedsheet around his waist. Then he wondered why he was bothering and threw it at Goten. “Nobody has ever told me anything!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how stupid it sounded and was grateful that Goten had only given him a knowing look and thrown the bedsheet back at him.
“And what was Ardema doing in your room, drunk?”
Goten was putting his boots on when the question came and, startled by the accusation, turned to gawk at the prince. The blue eyes were accusing, hurt and unforgiving. What the actual hell?
“Wow,” Goten muttered finally. Reyn had often been jealous, but the other third-class was usually much more…direct. Dueri would have just told him not to see ‘that drunk fucker’ anymore. “Umm… We need to talk,” Goten said. “In the evening. I wish we had time now, but I gotta go. You know that.”
Trunks stared at the door as it closed behind Goten, and then remembered that he also was late. Cursing, he rushed through his rooms, dressing just as Goten had done a minute ago. He knew that Goten’s “we need to talk” was going to circle in his head over and over the entire day. That, and the delightful way his ass felt used.
ooOoOoOoo
Goten inhaled deeply and schooled his face into the most innocent expression he was able to muster. He knocked on the shaii’s door and was permitted to enter. The third-class’s efforts were for naught as his mouth unconsciously formed an awed “o” at the sight of the unusually pristine office. The window frames finally had windows in them, and the blinds had been fixed as well. Even the windowsills had been wiped clean, the throngs of dead flies gone. He could nearly see his reflection on the floor. The whole office still stank of stale alcohol, though.
“Yes?” the shaii prompted without looking at the third-class. Ardo’s eyes were trained on the computer screen, where his cousin was being awarded a Bloodlust Medal. Envious, the shaii watched one of the army officials pin the medal to Raigar’s blue jacket. The largest number of killed Ice-jins during war. The shaii snorted. Who the hell had counted? He could still remember Raigar bawling his eyes out when he had popped his basketball twenty-seven years ago. Crybaby. And wasn’t it easy to get a medal when you were a captain of an Imperial Destroyer? That was what the thing had been made for – destroying.
Raigar made a short speech about how proud he was to serve the Saiyan Empire, and how he would have never been able to perform the noble deed of protecting it without his faithful crew.
“Well, of course,” the shaii snorted under his breath. “It’s not like you ventured out into space and blasted them. You just gave a fucking order!”
Ardo watched his cousin salute the general and walk off the platform. A different soldier took his place to get his award. The shaii sighed. “Lucky bastard!”
His interest in the ceremony vanished. He was already thinking how he was going to call and congratulate Raigar in the evening. Perhaps he should take a few days off and visit the capital to catch up with his cousin’s life. The sooner, the better. Raigar would soon leave with his ship again. Ah, the good old days with a tumbler of beer and Raigar at his side. He let out a dreamy sigh. He was still somewhat envious of the medal, but the feeling was overlaid by the pride in his blood. Impatient, he reached for the mouse and was about to press the call button when someone cleared their throat.
“Sir?”
Bewildered as to where he had come from, the shaii stared at Goten. Had he been here the whole time while he watched the ceremony?
“What do you want?”
Since the savar seemed to be perplexed by the question, the shaii felt the need to urge him on: “You either talk or go away.”
“Ehh… Sir, I was told sir requested to see me.”
The shaii frowned at him for a moment, then it finally dawned on him. “Oh, right. The door.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind that. You may go.” Then he shot Goten a suspicious look. “I ordered for you to be brought here about an hour ago. Where were you?”
“I spent most of the morning in the toilets, sir; must be something I ate. One of the lecturers just found me.”
“I see, I see,” the shaii nodded dismissively. “Make sure to check it out; might be contagious. Go back to your duties.”
“Yes, sir.”
After the savar left, the shaii drew his concentration back on the screen. He wondered how long it would take for Raigar to return to where he was staying. Then he decided to phone his cousin’s lover to find out. He dialed the number, was connected, and heard Sarem’s voice on the other end. He greeted him and asked how he was doing. They chatted for a minute, but once he asked about Raigar’s whereabouts, Sarem flew into rage, told him not to mention that motherfucker ever again, and abruptly ended the call. Startled, the shaii was left staring at the screen.
“Hmm…” he drawled after a few seconds. Apparently, it was over between the two. The shaii rubbed his chin absently. He did like Sarem and couldn’t help but wonder why the two had fallen out. He was definitely going to get to the bottom of this mystery and, with good luck, also to Sarem’s bottom.
ooOoOoOoo
After leaving the shaii’s office, Goten headed for the kitchens. He kept thinking about the weird conversation he had had with the shaii. Had Ardo decided to let it be because he had been informed about his relationship with the prince? Goten cringed at the unpleasant thought. But then, why ask him where he had been before coming to see him? This didn’t make much sense.
He might have been tortured by similar thoughts for hours, if not for Almanda appearing from behind the kitchens. At first, Goten froze on the spot, but then he started jumping up and down, waving his arms vigorously while his lips stretched into a huge grin.
“Gods! Almanda!”
“Goten!”
“Almanda!”
“Well, Golden Boy, how have you been?” the elite asked while grabbing him into a hug, choking him either accidentally or on purpose.
“Don’t call me that,” Goten muttered into her armpit; the bulky female was still almost a whole head taller than him. “Pretty good. You?”
She laughed. “Good to hear, Goten. I had tons of fun on Earth.” She patted the third-class’s back and let go of him. She noticed his teary eyes. “Aww…”
“Good to see you,” Goten mumbled wiping at his eyes, embarrassed.
“Yeah, I didn’t think we’d make it,” Almanda agreed. “You have my eternal gratitude, Golden Boy,” she said, ruffling through his dark hair.
Goten blinked at her. “You know?”
The elite looked surprised. “Doesn’t everybody?”
The third-class groaned. “No, they don’t. And I would like to keep it that way.”
Almanda shrugged dismissively. “Sure. In any case, I owe you a drink.”
“Oh, right. We did agree on having one in case we survive.”
She grinned. “Yep, and that we did! Come to the female barracks in the evening. I’ve brought some alcohol.” She thought for a moment. “I think it’s 105. My room, that is. Can’t remember for sure. Just holler my name in case it’s wrong.” She grinned wider at the look on Goten’s face. “Aww… I’ll make sure your tail is safe and sound this time.”
“It’s not that. It’s that I’ve got a prior appointment.”
“Ah. Well, then just for an hour or so?”
Goten grinned back at her. “Alright. Then I’ll come right after dinner.”
“Awesome. Now gotta go see the new shaii. See you.”
After splitting with Almanda, Goten rushed to the kitchens; he was starving.
“Goten!”
This time, the voice came from Kyon, who was jogging over towards him. His friend’s uniform was covered in plaster and beige paint; the second-class had been working on decorating the canteen.
“Morning,” Goten greeted.
“Morning my ass,” Kyon grunted. “Can’t get enough, can you? Wishing for special treatment, aren’t you?”
Goten’s eyebrows rose. “Chill. I’ve just overslept.”
Kyon gave him a look. “Whatever. Go have something to eat and help us paint that damn canteen.”
“Sure. Listen, what was that about the kitchen’s door? I was ordered to come to the shaii’s office, but then he just sent me away.”
“Oh that. The idiot thought that someone broke into the kitchens. Apparently, the door hadn’t even been fitted in. Someone had just propped it up and left it to be dealt with for the next day. It fell over when Ardo tried to open it.”
“Huh… But how do you even…? I mean, you gotta see that the hinges are missing and all…”
“He must have thought it had been done intentionally.”
“That, or he was still drunk. I think he has a problem with alcohol. Every time I go to his office, it smells.”
Kyon chuckled. “Yeah, you would know; a constant visitor.”
Goten rolled his eyes.
There was hardly any food left in the kitchens. The cooks were actually already getting ready for lunch. Goten received two cold pancakes, a fried egg, five slices of bread, and half of a wizened cabbage. With a quick “thanks”, Goten took it all to one of the free tables and sat down to have his late breakfast.
ooOoOoOoo
The savars’ duties were over for the day, and Goten was walking towards the canteen for his dinner. He kept rubbing the back of his neck, trying to massage out the soreness. He had spent hours upon hours painting the ceiling, and there were white patches all over his hair. He had tried to wash the paint off in the bathroom, but it hadn’t come off even a tiny bit. He would have to either cut it or try using some kind of solvent. Or…he could just pretend the white stuff wasn’t there and continue walking around like a clown.
The third-class brushed over the hair with his hand and grimaced at the stiffness. At first, he had put on an improvised paper hat, but it had fallen off as soon as he had tilted his head back.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, summing up his painting experience. And he was supposed to go and talk with Trunks tonight. There was no way he was going to the officers’ barracks looking like this. He grunted under his breath. Did Trunks actually find him attractive? Would Trunks care about the paint in his hair? He hadn’t thought of it before. He had smelled and looked like a pile of shit the first time they met after the war, and the prince hadn’t shown much displeasure. There had been a comment on the smell on the base in general, but that had been it. Goten thought it was kind of a given that one found the person they wanted to fuck attractive. Or was it the other way around – one found them attractive and that’s why they wanted to fuck them? Goten pursed his lips in effort to speed up his thought process. He, however, was certain that there was a plethora of ugly people sleeping around with no problem. Did Trunks find him ugly or attractive? Should he do something to make himself more attractive?
The third-class’s musings were cut off by Almanda shouting his name. Feeling guilty, he turned around and waited for her to catch up with him. He had rather hoped that she would have forgotten him for today, since he really wanted to see Trunks right away. He felt even guiltier at the bright grin on her face. She motioned for him to follow her. Well, it was not as if he didn’t appreciate her company. With an inward sigh, Goten jogged after her and into the women’s barracks. Perhaps she’d have ideas of what to do with his accursed hair.
In spite of having helped build them, it felt completely different now to enter the barracks. They still smelled of paint and solvent, but now the corridors were also permeated with female scent. Goten knew that there were probably still no more than five females on the base, but their scents were already mixing with those acidic ones of the new building and were making his eyes water and his head spin.
The third-class exhaled loudly when they entered Almanda’s room and the door closed behind them. It was still filled with the elite’s scent, but it was a smell that he was very familiar and comfortable with. He looked around the room, unconsciously comparing it to the prince’s. It was much smaller and had no separate bedroom. Secondly, the bathroom was shared by a block of lodgings that he knew was made up of two or three rooms like this. Otherwise, it was a well-furnished room.
“No roommates?” Goten asked, taking in the only bed, a desk, two chairs, a wardrobe, and a sofa. There were also two large chests of drawers on each side of the bed and a framed mirror above one of them. There was also a fridge in the corner next to the desk, a microwave, and a kettle.
Almanda nodded. “Now we have the luxury of a room per person. Long overdue, if you ask me.”
The third-class pouted. “We still live four in one.”
The elite shrugged. She had already kicked her boots off at the door and was now walking over to one of the chests of drawers. She opened the last drawer and pulled out a bottle of vodka with a shot of glass. After putting them in front of Goten, who had already made himself comfortable at the desk, she went to the fridge and retrieved a loaf of bread and a pack of banana juice. Goten, who wasn’t particularly familiar with the fruit, raised an eyebrow when she lowered it onto the desk, but didn’t comment. After walking back and forth a few more times, she pushed the spare chair over to the desk and sat down next to him. She took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and filled his shot glass. She pushed it closer to Goten, then poured a glassful of juice for herself.
“To the Legendaries,” she said, clinking it against Goten’s.
Goten hummed uncertainly. “I’d rather drink to peace.”
Sipping her banana juice, the elite rolled her eyes. “So what are you up to these days?”
Chewing on a piece of bread, Goten spread his arms apart to gesture at the walls. “Well, look around. I helped build and furnish all the new buildings.”
“Is that where your new hairdo came from?” the elite wondered, pointing at the paint in his hair.
Goten frowned. “Right. I almost forgot. Got anything I could take it off with?”
Almanda eyed the white patches in his dark hair. She shook her head. “Not really, but you could try that,” she said, pointing at the bottle in front of him. “Might just work.”
Interested, Goten took the bottle by its neck and sloshed the contents around lightly.
“Would be a pity to cut it again. Looks good on you.”
Goten looked at her. Was she flirting?
The elite tsked at the questioning look on his face. “Where’s Reyn?”
Goten downed the rest of his shot in one gulp. Right. Almanda rolled her eyes at the pained expression on his face.
“Is it permanent?”
His eyes watering with the strength of the drink, Goten grabbed some more bread and nodded. “There’s nothing more permanent than that.”
“I didn’t think he’d let go of you so easily.”
The third-class shook his head. “It was pointless. Even I understood that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but he really liked you. He was very serious about you.”
“I know,” Goten muttered. “I liked him as well.”
“I don’t get it, then.”
Goten shrugged. He wasn’t ready to tell her about his newest relationship, especially when he wasn’t certain of anything yet. She would just call him an idiot. He still felt guilty and often felt the urge to contact Starcut. He missed Reyn and wondered how he was doing. The problem was that he had no idea what to tell Dueri, except for an apology. That, and the fact that the base still had no access to any of the satellites. He had thought of asking Ranvera to help him out, but he felt reluctant about it. The prince might also have access to one, but asking him to contact Reyn just felt wrong
“He’s a good guy,” the elite mused. “I liked him too.”
Suspicious, Goten glanced at her banana juice. Just as he had thought, there was something in it.
“Yeah…” Goten muttered, pouring himself another shot.
“So, I gather it will be a while till our studies restart?”
“Mmm… I think, at the rate the constructions are going, in a week or two.”
“That’s pretty soon.”
“We’ve been working our asses off. Did you receive any orders?”
Almanda chuckled. “I’m supposed to supervise other savars while they work.”
The third-class huffed. “That’s just unfair!”
The elite shrugged and patted Goten on his head. “You get a commendation.”
“Thanks, I suppose.”
“Go and try washing that shit off your hair,” Almanda said, pulling her hand away from his head. She wiggled her fingers. “Feels disgusting.”
While Goten was in the bathroom, trying to remove the paint from his hair, she stared at the yellow liquid in her glass. She had thought that it would be easier to tell him, but the longer she kept looking at him, the harder it became. She sipped her juice, stood up, and walked over to the chest of drawers to get another bottle of vodka – by the sounds of splashing in the bathroom, they were going to need it.
“How’s it going?” she shouted over the noise.
“I nearly burnt my eyes out, but I think it’s working!” Goten yelled back.
“Right,” she muttered. “Congrats.”
In about ten minutes, Goten walked out of the bathroom with a towel on his head, smelling like soap and alcohol at the same time. He put the empty bottle on the desk and sat down.
“You didn’t take your shirt off?”
Goten patted the front of his shirt. “Ugh. Yeah. It’s wet.”
“You could have just taken it off. I’m not going to jump you.”
Goten gave her an uncertain look. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… Are you flirting with me?”
“Fuck off,” Almanda muttered with a roll of her eyes. Though she thought that perhaps she might have, for the sake of the old days. “Nah, I’m not trying to seduce you or anything. Not that I think it would require much effort.”
Goten gave her an insulted look but secretly thought that she was right. Everyone around him had successfully proved to him that he had a tendency to flirt around. In spite of that, he had only slept with two men. Did it mean that everyone was wrong about him?
The third-class’s mood improved considerably when his eyes caught the sight of an unopened bottle on the desk. He ruffled the towel through his hair a few more times, then threw it over one shoulder. “Well?”
“So far so good,” Almanda confirmed. “We’ll see once it dries out completely.”
Goten went back to the bathroom to hang the towel up to dry. When he returned, the bottle had already been opened and his shot glass refilled. The third-class sat down and picked it up. They toasted each other again.
“So how do you like the new shaii?” Almanda asked.
Goten shrugged. “I’ve seen him a few times. Seems like a snobbish asshole. With an addiction to alcohol to boot.”
“Look who’s talking. And you can’t say that about the elites.”
“I just did.”
His voice was hard, and she looked at his stubborn face more carefully. Some things never changed. She chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a snobbish asshole alright.”
Almanda poured herself another glass of juice. It was now completely dark outside the window. Didn’t Goten say that he had to meet someone? Well, not her problem.
“I saw two Royal Guards hanging about in the canteen with our prince. Seems like they just arrived today.”
“Oh? About damn time,” Goten said with an approving nod. “The immediate heir to the throne without bodyguards? Total negligence!”
“Are you still…?” the elite trailed off, not sure how to put it into words. “Does the prince know who you are? Or had he already known before?”
Wondering how much he was willing to tell, Goten shook his head. “He hadn’t, but he does now. To be honest, I myself had no idea until a month ago.”
“Really?”
She was clearly surprised, and Goten laughed. “Yeah. Many things changed before I returned here.”
“They sure did,” she agreed.
“And how was your stay on Earth?”
She rolled her eyes at this obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from himself. “I told you that I loved it there.”
Now it was Goten’s turn to be surprised. “I thought you were being sarcastic…” He thought about the prince’s long-ago proposed idea about taking him to the Earth Republic. Maybe in a parallel universe, where the two of them could live in a happily ever-after fairytale. Or he could go there alone someday, but then, he never had enough money. With much luck, he might be sent there on a mission one day.
Almanda noticed the far-away look on his face. “Planning on going there?”
The third-class shook his head. “No, not really. Unless by accident. So what did you see and do there?”
“Humans are strange.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I forgot you don’t like them much.”
Goten shrugged. “I neither like nor dislike them. They’re just mostly weird.”
“There were tons of things I saw and did there, but there was something that you should definitely try.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I forgot what it’s called, but they put you in this thing similar to a tiny train, strap you into it together with other people, and then you go up and down.” She illustrated the movement over the circles and curves with her hands.
Goten stared at her hands while trying to imagine the contraption she was talking about. “Okay,” he said with a nod. “And what then?”
“The ride takes about five minutes.”
“Mm… No, I mean… Do you get a prize after? Like who finishes the race first?”
The elite huffed in frustration. “You don’t get it at all. You have to pay for it. It isn’t a race. You stay tied in one place for the entire ride.”
“You pay for it?” The third-class was giving her an incredulous look. “For going up and down?” he questioned while moving his hands about as she had a moment ago. “What kind of bullshit is that? How fast does it go?”
“It isn’t fast. We can fly much faster.”
“I really don’t get it.”
“Hmm… Remember the piloting test we had? It’s a bit like that. What?” she asked when Goten paled.
“I haven’t got very fond memories of that test. I’d rather pay so I don’t need to ride that thing of yours.”
She chuckled. After a moment, her face became much more serious. “There is something I have to tell you.”
The elite sounded strangely subdued when she said that, and, intrigued, Goten looked over at her. “Yeah?” With strong excitement and, at the same time, horror, he thought that, perhaps, she wanted to confess to having fallen in love with him.
“I’m pregnant.”
Goten blinked at her and lowered his shot to the table. “Ehh… Yeah? How? Who? I mean… Congratulations?” he offered, wide-eyed.
The serious look on Almanda’s face was replaced by an awkward grin. She enjoyed his astonished face. “It’s fine. I was shocked at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. It’s fine, really.”
“Uhh…” Goten muttered suspiciously. “You aren’t telling me this only because you want me to take responsibility like last time? I won’t. Not this time.”
The elite waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. The father of the kid would have some serious objections to that.”
“Right.” Curious, Goten leaned forward. “So who is the lucky guy?”
Almanda rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t really know how to tell you, but I thought that it would be best if you hear it from me.”
Then it dawned on Goten. A look of fascinated horror appeared on his face. He stared at the elite. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he stuttered.
“Umm… So yeah, you’ll have a brother or sister in some five or so months.”
For a few moments, Goten was silent and absolutely motionless. Almanda thought that he was about to faint, but then he suddenly jumped to his feet, startling her.
“How could he?” he hissed. “You’re like…” He waved his arms about. “Like thirty years younger than he is! That senile bastard!”
That was, more or less, the reaction she had anticipated, and her shoulders relaxed. “It’s not thirty,” she corrected him just for the sake of saying something. “It’s twenty-six. Besides, it isn’t relevant at all, and nothing was like you think it was. I’ve got a thing for older men.”
“Oh my fucking god,” Goten muttered. He sat down. His brain felt foggy.
“You see, I think I liked you a lot. Perhaps a little bit too much if I say so myself. And then Kakarott appeared. And then just BAM! I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.”
“Apparently other places, too,” Goten mumbled angrily. “Fuck! I don’t need to hear this!” he snapped, covering his ears.
“Well, yeah,” Almanda agreed with him. “In any case, he was pretty happy with the news.”
Goten rolled his eyes. “Surprise, surprise.”
“He asked me to tell you.”
“I wonder why?” Goten asked sarcastically. He gave her a look. “What are you going to do about the difference in classes? Your father will kill you! Or will try to kill my father! Or both of you!”
“Nonsense. He was overjoyed. The next generation of the Legendaries… He’s already arranging the mating ceremony.”
Goten stared at her incredulously. Everything was becoming harder and harder to stomach. “You’d marry him?”
The elite snorted angrily at the pure disbelief on his face. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”
Goten’s arms went to his sides, then rose into the air to encompass the sheer enormity of why-nots. He wasn’t able to utter a word. “No!” he spat finally. “No! No! No!”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” she hissed at him. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not asking for your permission. I’m marrying Kakarott, and if you try to stop me, I’ll tear those legendary balls of yours off and stuff them into… Are you crying?”
“No, I’m not!”
Silent, she watched his eyes fill of tears until they spilled over and rolled down his cheeks. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
The third-class wiped at his cheeks. “I don’t know. It’s just a lot to take in. I’m drunk too.”
She reached out to pat him on his still damp hair. “Aww… It’s fine, it’s fine. Want to hear the good news?”
“Yup.”
“They are going to rebuild Matilda. I hear that there’s a new owner, though.”
“Oh? What happened to the old one?”
Almanda gave him a look. “Well, he probably died.”
“That’s not good news at all!”
ooOoOoOoo
Leaning against the wall, the prince waited. He felt embarrassed and awkward, but mostly angry. He couldn’t believe that he was here, staring at the door leading to the female barracks. The reason for that was, naturally, Goten. It was always Goten. Goten this, Goten that. Trunks cursed under his breath. He had been waiting for the third-class to come to his apartment as they had arranged, but Goten had failed to show up. He went to find him in his barracks, but Kyon and Ranvera blinked their sleepy eyes at him and told him that they had no idea of Goten’s whereabouts. Utter failures. So here he was now, staring into the midnight darkness, hoping that he was wrong. He had seen the newest arrivals list and knew that Veden Grendal’s daughter was back on the base. He could bet that the third-class was in her room.
He couldn’t believe it.
There were many things Trunks wanted to tell the third-class, and he felt as if he might explode if he had to wait till morning. Currently, he was toying with the idea of issuing Goten a scouter and following his whereabouts on his laptop.
Fuck it.
He stared at the female barracks and wondered if this was how Reyn Dueri had felt when he had caught him and Goten back then in the swimming pool. Goten, that third-class bastard, was back to his fucking games, to his fucking, fucking games.
Trunks’ stomach hadn’t felt well since morning. It didn’t hurt but kept rumbling and gurgling and felt uncomfortable, and he wondered whether it was because of Goten coming inside him, the new lube, the food, or his nerves. Perhaps it was because of all these factors.
The prince cursed under his breath again. He still had hope that he was mistaken, and that Goten was stuck in the bathroom. Or, perhaps, got drunk and got lost, or had been kidnapped, or summoned by National Security or his father.
His hopes were dashed away as, suddenly, the door opened, and a figure staggered out into the cool and dark night air. Under the bleak streetlight, Trunks easily recognized the outline and the step. His eyes narrowed, mouth twisting. That fucker! He had been stupid and naïve to believe that Goten would ever care enough for him to change his ways. Goten had always been a flirt and saw no reason to limit himself to just one person.
There were many things the prince felt like saying, but he didn’t how many of those had only been his own expectations and wishes. Perhaps, all of them? They had never agreed on anything. They had never discussed what mattered most. He had believed it was self-explanatory. Apparently, he had been wrong. How stupid. Or, had they simply miscommunicated? They were from two different worlds. Perhaps, what he thought was self-explanatory, was unclear for a Saiyan? There were always nuances concerning cultural differences. Had he expected an impossible of a Saiyan? Saiyans didn’t care much about their partner’s sex, true. Yet, that had only become so after the number of available females had drastically dwindled. He had noticed that, if given an opportunity, a Saiyan nearly always preferred females over males. Even a male pair very often sought out females in order to leave offspring. His mother had also suggested, even a few times, this kind of arrangement. It had made him angry every time as he wasn’t able to understand how it worked on the emotional level. He hated the thought.
Unaware, Goten had approached the lurking prince. He stopped in alarm when he saw something move in the shadows, then grinned brightly at the familiar face.
“Oh, right, I forgot,” the third-class giggled sheepishly. He leaned back at the sudden movement, but it was too late.
Goten stared up at the prince from the sandy ground he had suddenly found himself on. He was astonished to see so much disappointment and hurt on the prince’s face. Confused, he sat up and touched his split lip. “Ow,” he said. He touched it again. “Ooow.”
Trunks turned around and was about to leave, but the third-class’s foot hit the back of his right knee, and he folded down on his hands and knees. His head snapped around to glare at the third-class.
“Ow,” Goten muttered again, his fingers tracing the hurting lip. “What the hell was that for?”
“Do you need to ask?” Trunks hissed at him. Against his better judgement, he inhaled a lungful. His senses, however, weren’t able to decipher much as all scents were concealed by the stench of alcohol. He was able to smell a female on him but wasn’t able to tell more. Goten didn’t smell of sex. Then again, he wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about female scents.
In the dim light, Goten searched the prince’s angry face, and then it finally dawned on him. “Oh,” he said. “Ooohhh…” he repeated. He shook his head. “No, no! It’s not what you think! She’s pregnant.” The prince’s eyes went wide, his mouth twisted into a snarl. Goten’s drunk brain managed to figure out that he hadn’t said it right. He started waving his arms about. “No, no, no, no. It’s not mine! It’s my father’s. Feels fucking weird. I can’t believe they just…went and did it. So fucking weird. Isn’t he twice her age or something? Does it matter, actually? Well, he did say that I’d have a brother. Wait… Was that a ‘sibling’? Then a sister, perhaps? I’d like a sister. No, no. A boy would have a better chance of survival. Fuck them, though. Where are they going to keep him? What are they going…?”
Trunks listened to Goten’s drunk rambling with a relieved look on his face. Once he realized that he was grinning like a fool, his face exploded red and he got to his feet. He dusted his trousers off, then held his hand out for Goten.
“Up. Let’s go to my apartment. We’ll talk there.”
“Oww…”
“Stop touching your lip!”
The Royal Guard at the door gave the third-class a dumbfounded look.
“Oh, it’s you!” Goten grinned brightly at the familiar face. “Err… What was it…?”
“Airan Doren…” the elite reintroduced himself in a mutter. He glanced at the prince, who said nothing at the lack of honorifics. Yet, it didn’t feel right not to address one of the Legendaries in any way. “Sir, Your Highness,” he said with a quick bow, opening the door for them and stepping away from it.
Once inside, Trunks raided his apartment for something to disinfect Goten’s cut lip.
“Just lick it,” Goten giggled, falling into the sofa. It swallowed him into its folds, and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling in pleasure. “Heaven!”
“Don’t yell. People are sleeping.”
“Sorry.”
“Here,” Trunks said, walking back from the kitchen. “I don’t have anything else.”
Goten took the bottle of wine from his hand. “Will do, but you’ll have to lick it anyway.”
The prince dropped next to him into the sofa and kissed the injured lip. He licked the small gash, bathing it with his tongue carefully. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. Goten opened his mouth wider, and the kiss deepened. Sated, Goten finally broke their kiss, and, nearly purring, leaned against the backrest. Trunks stood up and walked over to the wardrobe to take his jacket off. Goten watched him walk around, his face sobering up.
“Trunks, would you have just ended it like that? Really? Just punched me and walked away?”
It was the first time Goten had called him by his name. Trunks’ lips twitched nervously. There was no point in lying, though.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. He gave an askance look to Goten, who had shifted on the sofa. Goten stood up and walked over to him. They were the same height now, and when Goten’s hands gripped his shoulders, their eyes were on the same level. The prince still wasn’t meeting Goten’s eyes, and he nearly jolted at the younger male’s touch.
“Do you still want to end it?”
Trunks shook his head. “No. No, of course not.” He finally made himself look at Goten, but couldn’t hold his gaze and lowered his head again.
“Good,” Goten nodded. His head was still buzzing with alcohol, and he couldn’t think of anything else but kissing Trunks. Their lips met, and the prince’s eyes slid shut. The other man’s hands cupping his head felt reassuring. Despite the ungodly alcohol taste of Goten’s mouth, he felt his body finally relax. It was probably the first time today, too, that this nervous tension had left him. The other man’s hand squeezed his backside, and he let out a sigh.
Goten maneuvered them into the bedroom. They fell into the bed with their uniforms on. Since he was quite drunk, Goten wasn’t certain how his performance would be. He was already hard, though. He climbed on top of the prince and started undoing his trousers. Trunks wasn’t hard. Goten leaned away to give a confused look to the limp, disinterested cock nestled amongst the violet curls.
“Don’t feel like it?” he asked.
Not sure what was amiss, Trunks looked between them. Upon discovering the problem, he blushed in embarrassment. This had never happened before. “Seems like I don’t,” he muttered, even though he could have sworn that he did. Perhaps it was the shock of discovering Goten at Almanda’s. He suddenly felt sleepy.
“I’ll give you head,” he muttered, yawning.
Goten looked at him carefully. He was drunk, but he wasn’t oblivious to Trunks’ mood. “It’s alright,” he said, “I’m so drunk that I might fall asleep in the middle of it.”
Trunks gave him a grateful look. He was so sleepy that he was considering just staying in bed like this. Already drifting off, he felt Goten shift beside him and then was out cold.
Goten’s eyes snapped open. It was still dark in the bedroom, and he wondered why he woke up. Perhaps it was a dream, but he couldn’t remember anything. Perhaps, he had farted himself awake. Or perhaps, Trunks farted him awake. He looked at the prince’s slack, sleeping face. For a few minutes, Goten simply watched him sleep. During the night, Trunks had sprawled all over the bed. The cover over his chest rose and fell with his slow, deep breaths. Goten remembered having removed his own and then the prince’s uniforms.
Apparently, the prince did not care about his drunk self at all. Goten dully noted what he thought was a fact. They needed to talk. There were so many things he had to say. After yesterday, it was also obvious that Trunks had things to share as well.
The morning siren howled, and Goten grunted. Talking had to wait till the evening again.
TBC
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