If you're an old reader of quaint House Vagus, Hello! Welcome back, and thank you for continuing to give me your time. If this is your first visit, then hello and welcome :)

This glimpse takes place within the universe of my long-form story Baby Bloomer, but IMO you don't need to have read it in order to follow along. However, it does contain potential spoilers, so turn back if you're currently getting through it. On the other hand, if you find yourself intrigued and want to find out more, maybe give the main story a look. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

(But do heed the warning. I don't want to spoil it for others, but this really isn't the fic for you if you're opposed to age gaps and similar themes.)

Cover image title: Familia Briefs, Artist: salvamakoto

I can never have her.

The reasons are endless, and yet, here I stand, torturing myself as I watch her in her family home, blissfully unaware. She has no idea. And why should she? I keep a firm hold whenever she's around - both for my sake and her own.

I glance out of the corner of my eye, spying lavender strands. When I start to lose focus, he's there to remind me where my place is:

I can never have her.

Trunks is my oldest friend. My partner in crime. The other half to my alter-ego - how long has it been since we've done that together? Gohan likes to joke that Trunks was my first love. And he's right - that bastard is my number one. My brother.

Her brother.

He's watching her, just as I am. Arms folded, cold as ice.

Sometimes I theorise that he was born without a heart, then I see how he looks at her. A softness washes over him every time, and I know he feels it - that serene wave. It only comes when you look into those sparkling blues, or hear the sweet melody of her girlish laughter. Occasionally, a darkness appears on his already severe features, and I know what he's thinking: protect her at all costs. At. All. Costs.

If he knew what I'd like to do with her - what I've already done with her - he'd kill me. That's not an exaggeration. He'd bury me where I stand and I don't hold it against him, because I would do the same. For her. I already have.

I fight to suppress the blood-curdling images of that chaotic evening. Her screams. Her tears. The night that started it all. Or did it?

I still remember the feeling of her heart pounding against my chest. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That's all I could think as I held her to me. She felt so unbelievably fragile in my arms. Just a girl.

I'd never want to see anyone treated that way, but especially not her. Don't hurt her! I hear my own voice as the memory plays back to me and find myself wondering if that night weighs on her as much as it does on me. My chest tightens.

So sweet. So innocent. So vulnerable. How is she cut from the same cloth as my closest ally? She's sensitive, soft, pure. These are not words I could ever use to describe Trunks Briefs. Or his parents, for that matter.

Bulma.

She is a brilliant woman. Intelligent, strong, incredibly attractive, but not sweet. I imagine it's that edge that allows her to stay on top of her game as well as keep a handle on her husband.

Vegeta.

He is this epitome of ruthless. The first person I ever feared. There's no question who Trunks' father is, because I see that same killer glare in my best friend's eyes whenever he forgets to put his mask on.

I catch the Great Prince stepping out of his training room in my peripheral vision. He's hesitating at the door, observing us as we watch his daughter. Trunks and I look up when his ki spikes for a brief second. I say 'us', but what I really mean is 'me'. He observes me. Something has changed between us. I don't know how much he knows, but I shake it off. I've got a poker face too, Vegeta. Let's keep pretending that everything is normal.

He's been warning me, silently, for months. Characteristically non-verbal, I still hear his message loud and clear:

I can never have her.

She looks over and calls out to us, wrapping herself in a large shirt that makes her look five years old again - a time when I saw her as I've always thought I would see her. I can still picture her in those multi-coloured fairy wings, asking me to help her fly.

"Daddy says I'm a real princess," she'd told me proudly.

"You are," I crouched down to smile back. She was so darn cute. "Princess over me and my brother. My dad too."

She'd then bopped me on the nose with her glittery wand, pretending to cast a spell, before bouncing off to find her mother.

What's wrong with me?

Her soft hair sticks to the side of her face, skin still damp. I can see the movement of the pool water reflecting in her eyes, and, for a moment, I feel it again. No.

My heart begins to beat faster, so I take control of my breathing. Just like her father taught me. Just like I taught her.

I think back to the two of us kneeling on the hard floor of my apartment while she asks me what I feel when I sense her energy signature. She'd looked up at me with such childlike wonder, I almost felt ashamed. You're magnetic, electrifying, pristine. Sharp, like your brother, but without the hint of malice. I knew better than to give her an answer.

How close did I come to slipping up that evening? Drunken dancing in my living room, falling on top of her when she lost her balance. I couldn't help myself when I looked into her eyes, letting my hand linger on the side of her face once I moved her fringe aside. My breath caught just like it had the evening I carried her to her room. So trivial - I'd done it many times before, Trunks thought nothing of the request. And neither had I. Was that the first...? Once again, time stood still and I heard my heart drum in my ears. That face. 'She's just a girl', I had to remind myself.

She grins at us, squinting while she holds her palm up toward the sun. Someone comes up behind her and that sweet smile broadens when he kisses her cheek, aqua orbs disappearing as she squeezes her lids shut. Her boyfriend is telling her goodbye, a look on his face that suggests he's the happiest man in the world. Maybe he is.

She turns to kiss him on the mouth. Modest and tender, just like her. I tear my gaze away, hoping to avoid thinking about what kissing her really feels like. Tastes like. Incredible. The thought enters my mind before I can chase it away. I've tried to forget the taste of her for over a year now. No one has lingered on my lips for this long.

She has no idea.

I can tell by the way she looks at me that she still sees me as I'm meant to see her. We're family; Our ties run deep. Her mother tried to kill my father once. Naturally, that sparked a lifelong friendship, solidified when her father tried to kill the man too.

She's the same age as my niece. Just a girl. What's wrong with me?

Trunks has asked her something, and she's got her hands over her mouth as she giggles bashfully. A pretty tinge hits her cheeks, not unlike the moment I had her on my kitchen bench last winter.

I catch a hint of her scent and immediately plunge my hands into my pockets, losing rational thought for a few seconds before reeling myself back in. She's just a girl. As the three of us stand here, there's no sign of our previous encounter. It's out of her head, just like I've told her it's out of mine. It was a mistake. Should never have happened. But I can't bring myself to regret it.

I'm a monster. She's young, insecure and craves intimacy from anyone willing to give it to her. I know this. Trunks knows this. Trunks knows that I know this. He trusts me not to act on it, but he doesn't realise that my knowledge is first hand.

I want this, she'd breathed, pulling me in like a vortex.

Don't do this to me, Princess, I'd silently begged, leaning my forehead against her own while every part of me screamed out. Please don't.

I tell myself again: If he knew what I'd like to do with her, he'd kill me.

The mantra becomes increasingly dilute each time I repeat it. As time goes on, the reluctance becomes less about Trunks. Less about Vegeta. Less about me.

I've seen her cry in more instances than I can count, and I think a piece of me has died each time. It's always been that way - I adored her from her first breath. I've only become weaker to it as she's gotten older. The look on her face after I killed that soldier…

This goes beyond Trunks. Beyond Vegeta. Beyond me.

This is about her. I just want to see her happy. To know she's still laughing, even if it's with someone else.

There's that feeling again. Stop.

"Goten?"

She's looking up at me with those bright blues. The same as her brother's, and yet so devastatingly different. I'm defenceless against these two.

What's wrong with me? She's just a girl. And she has no idea how much I want her. Or how much I wish that I didn't.

Your spell worked, Princess. You got me.

I'll continue to watch over her, with her brother and father. Three of the most powerful men in the universe, silent guardians. Brought to their knees by an oblivious young girl who still doesn't know the gravity of her own power. I almost laugh at the thought.

It's time for Trunks and I to go. He thinks I don't realise why he insists on having these nights out. That I don't know how much he runs from the emptiness that lurks inside him. I do know. I've always known. He introduced me to this world when we were boys - even younger than she is now. Back then, I simply thought of it as a fun night out, nothing more than a satisfying way to pass the time. He did it out of necessity - he needed that escape - and now I need it too. Of course the effect is always temporary, but for a few fleeting moments I can lose myself. Mute the voice inside that calls and yearns, the voice I'm constantly needing to remind -

I can never have her.

I'm not going to lie, this was a bit of a personal experiment. Lots of firsts for me in this short submission since I'm trying to stretch myself - so do consider leaving feedback if you have any. Thank you for reading :)