A/N: So, I wrote this when I was in high school and last night I wrote a sequel that just popped into my head. I feel like this one needed some revision, so here is the updated version. Some formatting and dialogue was changed, but overall it has the same feel and of course it's the same story. Happy 2017!

"Hey Trunks? I gotta tell you something."

"Huh?"

This was the start of the conversation. Had Trunks known what he was in for he might have panicked, but as it was he had no clue what was coming. Probably, he thought, something goofy and trivial, as was typically Goten's style. Maybe he'd broken something. Maybe he'd eaten the last of Trunks' favorite cookies. Who knew? In any case, it would turn out to be nothing, as usual. That unnatural seriousness in Goten's tone meant he thought he'd done something wrong, Trunks was sure. But there was nothing in the whole world that this boy could do that was wrong. Not that he could ever, you know, tell anybody that. He really needed to stop it with the sappy internal dialogue. When it had first started he'd assumed it was just part of being in love, but now it was getting way out of hand.

"And I don't want you to be mad, but I think you will be."

So it was the cookies.

"But there's nothing I can do about it, and if you don't want to be around me because of it I'll understand."

Huh? Trunks turned to face his companion, finally paying real attention to the conversation. Goten was sitting on the foot of his bed in his school clothes, hands in his lap, and he was looking at Trunks with something on his face that Trunks couldn't define…fear, maybe? What could cause Goten to ever be afraid of Trunks? Sure, Trunks could take him in a fight, but that was all just training. And besides that, how could he think that Trunks could ever be angry with him? Goten was the most amazing person in the universe, and nothing he could ever say or do could ever make Trunks turn away from him. Trunks sometimes wondered why sweet Goten wanted to spend his time with someone so anti-social as himself. Gah, gotta stop that. I sound like a girl.

"I can get my mom to pull me out of school so you won't have to see me anymore. She wants me home schooled anyhow."

Goten was shaking a little, his voice trembling and he floundered as Trunks moved toward him—to touch his shoulder, to comfort him somehow—and he hopped off the bed and backed away.

"What's going on?" Trunks followed him, his frustration and concern rising. What could Goten have done, or think that he had done?

"I'm gay." he finally said.

Pause.

Long, uncomfortable silence.

Trunks didn't even know how to respond to that. He couldn't just say, "Cool, me too!" and make it okay. (Well, he could, but he didn't think it would actually help.)

Goten spoke again: "I just had to tell you, 'cause I felt like I was lying to you keeping it secret." He looked so scared, like Trunks was going to attack him or something crazy. "I ought to go."

He moved to leave out the window.

"Goten!" Trunks finally found himself. The object of his undying affection—with whom he might suddenly have a chance!—was trying to leave.

"Yeah?" Goten looked back over his shoulder at Trunks.

"This is your room." Trunks pointed out.

"Well, you can't want me here after that so—"

"Goten!" Trunks moved to stop him from leaving, still not really knowing what to do here. Yeah, his grandparents had sent him to the mandatory etiquette classes so he could attend formal dinners with rich people, but this wasn't exactly a social situation those kinds of things covered.

"That's not all, either." Goten backed right up against the wall as Trunks came near him. He wouldn't meet Trunks gaze, and if he thought Trunks was going to hit him, he wasn't raising his hands to defend himself. Trunks, meanwhile, was sure this was just a dream. There was no possible way this was really happening, after months of wishing and hoping and finally accepting the fact that he was alone in his gayness and the object of his love would never see him as anything more than a friend and sparring buddy.

He must have been injured while training and he'd been given some really good drugs and he was now hallucinating. Jeez, he hoped he didn't talk in his sleep or anything. Or maybe it was just a regular dream, and he was safe and asleep in his own room where no one would overhear any crazy things he might mutter to himself. (If this was a dream, he could do whatever he wanted, right? He had almost made up his mind to kiss Goten when—)

"I think I'm in love with you."

Another long, uncomfortable silence. Again, Trunks couldn't quite decide how to respond to that. It wasn't possible. He wasn't worthy of this beautiful boy's affection. Seriously, where does that crap keep coming from? But if he were what Goten wanted then he would strip naked right here and now to make him happy. He'd give anything to see Goten smile; right now, as he moved closer, he could see the fear on Goten's face. His eyes were so dilated the iris was barely visible, his face pale, and tears were forming because of—what?

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—" Goten was crying. Sobbing. And Trunks' heart was breaking—Goten certainly hadn't done anything to be sorry for, and whoever had made him think he had was going to suffer.

"I tried so hard not to—and Trunks, I swear, I promise, I wouldn't ever do anything to you. I know you ain't like that and I swear I don't think about you or anything—you deserve so much better and I wouldn't—mmfpt—"

Goten had suddenly found it hard to form coherent speech with a mouthful of Trunks' tongue. His eyes widened and then squeezed shut and Trunks' arms were around him, hands gripping his clothes and his hair and supporting him when his knees gave way in his astonishment. That hot, sweet mouth over his was crushing to his lips and the tongue was tracing across—behind his teeth, along the inside of his bottom lip before sucking it inside—leaving him overjoyed and utterly compliant.

It was a long time before Goten could respond to the dawning realization that Trunks might just care for him as well. But Trunks broke off, holding him pinned up against the bedroom wall. Their flushed faces were only millimeters apart when Goten finally met his best friend's eyes, which were bright and blue and filled with wonder and a hint of anxiety.

"You'd better not have been fucking with me." he said petulantly, warm lips brushing against Goten's as he spoke.

"… Nope. But it looks like I might be in a few minutes."

There was no more talking after that. Trunks' hands worked down to Goten's bare skin and it was warm everywhere—and everything was so different, when in fact nothing had changed. It was as though the entire world had shifted around them, rearranging the entire universe but leaving it really the same as it was before. Nothing was new about this, this comfortable and frantic contact as normal as doing homework or sparring or playing a game. This was the way it should have been all along, and they'd never realized.

They were left there in the radiant aftermath together with the world outside the window a million miles away; clutching at each other, laughing and crying and so blissfully ecstatic that they were barely breathing at all.