Chapter Three
"Oh....shit."
Gohan tried to open his eyes, winced, groaned, and closed them again.
"Shit," he repeated, much more softly. The room was quiet, but it was the strange, pregnant sort of silence that promised a horrendous racket in only a few seconds, a strange sort of hovering silence...
"Hey, kid."
It broke. Bells clanged and a set of drums began drumming out a cadence on the inside of his skull- "AUGH!" Gohan yipped, then cut the whine short as it added to the barrage of sound only he could here. "Shh....onegai, shh..."
No sarcastic remark escaped Piccolo's lips, instead he just moved to the nightstand and dunked a towel he had set out into the basin of cool water. Smirking, he laid the fabric over Gohan's forhead and held it there for a moment before brushing his thumb against Gohan's cheek.
"What...what happened to me?" the boy murmered softly, feeling the soft caress. "I feel like I've been hit by a bus..."
Better a bus then Trunks, Piccolo scowled, but didn't let Gohan see it. "You went out with Trunks yesterday and got very, very wasted."
"EH?!" Gohan tried to sit up, but the swirling in his head made the action painful and very short-lived. "I...did?"
"He brought you home after eleven, unconcious," Piccolo added helpfully as he closed the blinds on the window over the bed, stemming the light that filtered through until the room was a dull blend of lightless hues. Slowly the saiya-jin cracked his eyes again, and this time the light level didn't burn spots in them.
"Eleven... I can't remember anything! Dammit, Pikoro, what did I do?!"
"Trunks didn't say anything," Piccolo paused a moment to replace the cloth on Gohan's forhead. "So you'll have to ask him."
"What?! How can I face him now?!"
Piccolo's response was confident, but not overly so. The last thing he wanted was Gohan running off to do favors for Trunks to make up for this slip..."You'll manage. Are you hungry at all?"
"Starving," Gohan agreed, his stomach rumbling as he spoke.
The namekusei-jin scowled, having hoped for a different answer. Nervously he cracked his knuckles, then sighed, looking away from Gohan. "I....I tried to make something but.....it's not very good. I burned it. A little."
Gohan stared at his mentor in surprise. Usually Piccolo stayed away from the kitchen as if it carried the plauge, only venturing in to make himself some tea- but cooking? He also noticed that Piccolo's face looked slightly strained and very tired...
'Did he stay up all night waiting and taking care of me?' Gohan wondered mentally, staring at the namekusei-jin. 'He sure does look tired, and if he'd had plenty of time on his hands it partially explains the food...'
Concious of Gohan's questioning stare, Piccolo scowled and started towards the door. "I'll go get it."
'He did, he did!' Gohan decided, elation filling his chest. Piccolo cared enough to do that- maybe he was worried about where the saiya-jin was, or maybe he was even jealous! He wouldn't say, Gohan knew, but... that was something, wasn't it? A small something but something none the less?
When the namekusei-jin returned with a tray in his hands, Gohan was grinning despite his pounding head.
"Here," Piccolo said gruffly, handing Gohan the tray. There was toast- slightly burned, and a large saiya-jin sized bowl of soup. A plate of very charred waffles was next to that, two apples, and a pitcher of hot tea. Gohan grinned- Piccolo knew how much he ate, of course. You might want to be careful, I'm no good at that..."
Gohan nodded as he looked over the meal, doubly aware of the delicacy of the moment- how often did Piccolo admit a weakness after trying something completely new just to make him happy? Gohan couldn't remember the last time, but the feelings that washed within his mind were all satisfied at the sudden change. "It looks fine! I'm not sure how you managed to burn the toast, since the toaster cooks it, but-"
"What's a toaster?"
The younger of the two blinked- how did one cook toast without a toaster? He had a feeling that it involved ki.... "That little metal box next to the coffee machine. Speaking of coffee, I could really use some right now," Coffee was a little-known luxury to Gohan- the scent of it sickened Piccolo, and so they avoided making it on most days, but today Gohan had a feeling that he wouldn't be walking around until several pitchers had been downed.
"Coffee...right...." Piccolo said softly, trying not to let it show that he had no idea how to work the coffee maker. "I'll go get it."
Gohan sat back and smiled broadly as Piccolo disappeared down the stairs. "I should get sick more often...."
Piccolo, pausing at the landing, glanced back up but didn't return. "Maybe he should... nah... I wouldn't live through it."
********
Trunks stared at the clock, terrified. His whole morning had been centered around that one metallic object, it was his reason for living at the moment. The phone. The means by which Gohan would either contact him or...or...
The lavender haired boy swallowed tightly. He knew Gohan, and knew him well- there were two possibilities- one being that Gohan wouldn't remember and would be embarrassed about his state the night before, and call to apologize. The other would be... Well, if he did remember, Trunks doubted Gohan would call.
The phone had rung three times that morning. The first time Trunks had answered with the standard "Mushi Mushi, Capsule Corperation. This is Trunks..." The second time had been much shorter. "Capsule Corp, Trunks speaking." The third time around, Trunks had dove for the phone and answered with a quick "Yeah, this is Trunks-"
Fortunately that last one had been his mother, not a potential customer. After a chiding that left his ears red, Trunks had taken a message for his father and hung up the phone, while Bra stared at him in surprise from the other side of the room. She too was waiting for a rather important call, and snapped at her brother for hogging the phone.
Vegeta.
Sighing, Trunks made sure he had his cellular with him (just in case) and made his way towards the gravity chamber where his father spent most of his days. No, correction- all of his days. While Trunks still sparred often enough to maintain a power level of super saiya-jin two, running the company ate away at most of his time. Fortunately, Vegeta had Gokou to release his pent-up rage on, and the two trained intensely for hours at a time.
In fact, Trunks nearly ran into the aforemented guest as he wound his ways through the halls- the older saiya-jin looked nearly the same as he had in the days before Buu and Cell- his hair was spikey as ever, his face youthful, innocent, and completely nieve. Trunks spared a glance at the bulging shoulders and sweat-drenched gi the man was wearing, and nearly grinned despite the stress of his situation. He could almost see Gohan gazing at him through Gokou's black eyes...
"Oi, Torunkusu!" Son Gokou waved and gave Trunks a playful punch in the shoulder. "Have you been training lately?"
Trunks grimaced and shook his head. "Ano, with the company and everything-"
"Ah, ah, ah! You really should spar with Goten sometime, he's been so lonely since he broke up with...with...what was her name? I can't remember-"
"It's Bra, my younger sister," Trunks reminded him drolly.
"Oh, yeah! He's got so many girlfriends- he reminds me of Yamcha!"
Forcing a laugh (the tension in the sound was lost on Gokou) Trunks shrugged, glad Bra wasn't around to hear it. The relationship between his sister and Gohan's brother reminded most of the Z crew of Yamcha and Bulma...constant fighting masking deeper feelings... Very, very complicated. "Maybe I will if I have some free time-"
"Hai, don't spend it all with Gohan!"
Trunks nearly fell over, wondering just how much knowledge those words were meant to imply. "E-eh!?"
"I think Goten's getting jealous of you always hanging out with his niichan," Gokou smiled, wiping a drop of sweat off the back of his neck before it could roll down between his shoulder blades.
"Oh....well.....I'll do something with him, then..."
"Haiiii, that's the spirit!" Gokou gave Trunks another friendly slap, sending the boy slamming into the wall at a rather uncomfortable angle. "I'll tell him you said hi, but right now I gotta hit the fridge..."
"And maybe the showers too, Gokou-san?" the boy suggested candidly, knowing the other saiya-jin wouldn't take offense.
"Maybe!"
Trunks faked a laugh again, then turned and kept moving, scowling as soon as Gokou was out of sight around the corner. Damn, why did he have to look so much like his son? What was it about saiya-jin genes that recycled old looks again and again? Trunks wondered for a moment just how like Vegeta he looked, then dismissed the thought as he approached the gravity room.
He glanced at the panel of settings and opened the door, stepping into a small room with glass doors. A moment passed as the door behind him closed and the tiny chamber's gravity multiplied to reach what Vegeta was training at, then a second set of doors opened and Trunks walked out into the main room.
"Tousan!"
Vegeta didn't spare him a glance.
Trunks knew he had his father's attention anyway. "Tousan, mom wants to make sure you remember to be ready for the dinner this evening-"
A moment passed, and Vegeta relaxed. "Stupid women. I hate formal affairs." Still, Trunks knew, Vegeta did enjoy the doting of the public- when people realized who's husband he was, the treated him with utter respect and care- something Trunks was sure Vegeta missed from his prince-ly days.
Shrugging, the lavender-haired boy turned to leave. "That's all."
He was almost to the door when Vegeta spoke again, toweling sweat off his bare chest as he regarded his son. "You were home late last night."
"....yeah."
"What do you see in him?"
This time Trunks really did fall, slamming into the ground as the air rushed out of his lungs for a moment. When he sat up again, cradeling a bruised elbow, Vegeta continued. "The Gods must hate me- having both my brats infatuated with Kakarotto's spawn..."
Trunks sweatdropped. Since when did Vegeta know?! Since when did he care?! "A-...I-.... tousan...."
Vegeta moved over to him, throwing the towel down and watching his son with mild amusement, though it didn't show on his face. "It's even more pathetic with you and the older kid, considering you won't tell him anything."
"T-tousan, you're...not...mad at me?" Trunks managed to choke the words out, shocked by his father's almost decent manner. He had taken so many careful precautions to keep his little crush a secret, but now....Now his father knew, what did that mean? And would he be angry, would he scold him?
"Tch. Gaki." For a long stretch, nothing more was said, then "You're right though, he doesn't love you." That was it, then- a quick few words and all of Trunks' hopes were negated. "He's horribly done up with that green guy. Pikoro."
Trunks stared at his hands, unsure of what to say. "I thought you would care more than this..."
"You're just a kid. You have a long time to decide what you want to do with yourself. There's nothing wrong with what you are- saiya-jin are notoriously open to things of a sexual nature," Vegeta smirked, speaking the unusual words almost...wistfully? "And rutting saiya-jin will pounce on anything that moves."
"I'm not rutting," Trunks said, thankful for that. The last time that had happened he had put half a planet between himself and Gohan and had still felt the urge to knock Piccolo unconcious and take the other man for his own.
"I know. It says a lot for how you feel."
That was all Vegeta had to say- the saiya-jin stood and moved away, forcing himself into another set of push-ups. Before he left, Trunks asked one more question.
"Tousan....does mom know....?"
Vegeta regarded him as if he were an idiot. "Hell, no, you think I would tell her?!"
"Thanks, dad."
Smirking, the other saiya-jin performed a quick twenty pushups on one arm. "Oh, and Trunks..."
"Hai?"
"Pick up your mess before you go."
"Mess....?"
Glancing down, Trunks watched a few chunks of black plastic tinkle out of his pockets. "What the hell...?" It took a moment for him to realize that those malformed pieces were the last of his cellular phone. "Oh! DAMNIT!"
Grinning, Vegeta went back to his training.
"Oh....shit."
Gohan tried to open his eyes, winced, groaned, and closed them again.
"Shit," he repeated, much more softly. The room was quiet, but it was the strange, pregnant sort of silence that promised a horrendous racket in only a few seconds, a strange sort of hovering silence...
"Hey, kid."
It broke. Bells clanged and a set of drums began drumming out a cadence on the inside of his skull- "AUGH!" Gohan yipped, then cut the whine short as it added to the barrage of sound only he could here. "Shh....onegai, shh..."
No sarcastic remark escaped Piccolo's lips, instead he just moved to the nightstand and dunked a towel he had set out into the basin of cool water. Smirking, he laid the fabric over Gohan's forhead and held it there for a moment before brushing his thumb against Gohan's cheek.
"What...what happened to me?" the boy murmered softly, feeling the soft caress. "I feel like I've been hit by a bus..."
Better a bus then Trunks, Piccolo scowled, but didn't let Gohan see it. "You went out with Trunks yesterday and got very, very wasted."
"EH?!" Gohan tried to sit up, but the swirling in his head made the action painful and very short-lived. "I...did?"
"He brought you home after eleven, unconcious," Piccolo added helpfully as he closed the blinds on the window over the bed, stemming the light that filtered through until the room was a dull blend of lightless hues. Slowly the saiya-jin cracked his eyes again, and this time the light level didn't burn spots in them.
"Eleven... I can't remember anything! Dammit, Pikoro, what did I do?!"
"Trunks didn't say anything," Piccolo paused a moment to replace the cloth on Gohan's forhead. "So you'll have to ask him."
"What?! How can I face him now?!"
Piccolo's response was confident, but not overly so. The last thing he wanted was Gohan running off to do favors for Trunks to make up for this slip..."You'll manage. Are you hungry at all?"
"Starving," Gohan agreed, his stomach rumbling as he spoke.
The namekusei-jin scowled, having hoped for a different answer. Nervously he cracked his knuckles, then sighed, looking away from Gohan. "I....I tried to make something but.....it's not very good. I burned it. A little."
Gohan stared at his mentor in surprise. Usually Piccolo stayed away from the kitchen as if it carried the plauge, only venturing in to make himself some tea- but cooking? He also noticed that Piccolo's face looked slightly strained and very tired...
'Did he stay up all night waiting and taking care of me?' Gohan wondered mentally, staring at the namekusei-jin. 'He sure does look tired, and if he'd had plenty of time on his hands it partially explains the food...'
Concious of Gohan's questioning stare, Piccolo scowled and started towards the door. "I'll go get it."
'He did, he did!' Gohan decided, elation filling his chest. Piccolo cared enough to do that- maybe he was worried about where the saiya-jin was, or maybe he was even jealous! He wouldn't say, Gohan knew, but... that was something, wasn't it? A small something but something none the less?
When the namekusei-jin returned with a tray in his hands, Gohan was grinning despite his pounding head.
"Here," Piccolo said gruffly, handing Gohan the tray. There was toast- slightly burned, and a large saiya-jin sized bowl of soup. A plate of very charred waffles was next to that, two apples, and a pitcher of hot tea. Gohan grinned- Piccolo knew how much he ate, of course. You might want to be careful, I'm no good at that..."
Gohan nodded as he looked over the meal, doubly aware of the delicacy of the moment- how often did Piccolo admit a weakness after trying something completely new just to make him happy? Gohan couldn't remember the last time, but the feelings that washed within his mind were all satisfied at the sudden change. "It looks fine! I'm not sure how you managed to burn the toast, since the toaster cooks it, but-"
"What's a toaster?"
The younger of the two blinked- how did one cook toast without a toaster? He had a feeling that it involved ki.... "That little metal box next to the coffee machine. Speaking of coffee, I could really use some right now," Coffee was a little-known luxury to Gohan- the scent of it sickened Piccolo, and so they avoided making it on most days, but today Gohan had a feeling that he wouldn't be walking around until several pitchers had been downed.
"Coffee...right...." Piccolo said softly, trying not to let it show that he had no idea how to work the coffee maker. "I'll go get it."
Gohan sat back and smiled broadly as Piccolo disappeared down the stairs. "I should get sick more often...."
Piccolo, pausing at the landing, glanced back up but didn't return. "Maybe he should... nah... I wouldn't live through it."
********
Trunks stared at the clock, terrified. His whole morning had been centered around that one metallic object, it was his reason for living at the moment. The phone. The means by which Gohan would either contact him or...or...
The lavender haired boy swallowed tightly. He knew Gohan, and knew him well- there were two possibilities- one being that Gohan wouldn't remember and would be embarrassed about his state the night before, and call to apologize. The other would be... Well, if he did remember, Trunks doubted Gohan would call.
The phone had rung three times that morning. The first time Trunks had answered with the standard "Mushi Mushi, Capsule Corperation. This is Trunks..." The second time had been much shorter. "Capsule Corp, Trunks speaking." The third time around, Trunks had dove for the phone and answered with a quick "Yeah, this is Trunks-"
Fortunately that last one had been his mother, not a potential customer. After a chiding that left his ears red, Trunks had taken a message for his father and hung up the phone, while Bra stared at him in surprise from the other side of the room. She too was waiting for a rather important call, and snapped at her brother for hogging the phone.
Vegeta.
Sighing, Trunks made sure he had his cellular with him (just in case) and made his way towards the gravity chamber where his father spent most of his days. No, correction- all of his days. While Trunks still sparred often enough to maintain a power level of super saiya-jin two, running the company ate away at most of his time. Fortunately, Vegeta had Gokou to release his pent-up rage on, and the two trained intensely for hours at a time.
In fact, Trunks nearly ran into the aforemented guest as he wound his ways through the halls- the older saiya-jin looked nearly the same as he had in the days before Buu and Cell- his hair was spikey as ever, his face youthful, innocent, and completely nieve. Trunks spared a glance at the bulging shoulders and sweat-drenched gi the man was wearing, and nearly grinned despite the stress of his situation. He could almost see Gohan gazing at him through Gokou's black eyes...
"Oi, Torunkusu!" Son Gokou waved and gave Trunks a playful punch in the shoulder. "Have you been training lately?"
Trunks grimaced and shook his head. "Ano, with the company and everything-"
"Ah, ah, ah! You really should spar with Goten sometime, he's been so lonely since he broke up with...with...what was her name? I can't remember-"
"It's Bra, my younger sister," Trunks reminded him drolly.
"Oh, yeah! He's got so many girlfriends- he reminds me of Yamcha!"
Forcing a laugh (the tension in the sound was lost on Gokou) Trunks shrugged, glad Bra wasn't around to hear it. The relationship between his sister and Gohan's brother reminded most of the Z crew of Yamcha and Bulma...constant fighting masking deeper feelings... Very, very complicated. "Maybe I will if I have some free time-"
"Hai, don't spend it all with Gohan!"
Trunks nearly fell over, wondering just how much knowledge those words were meant to imply. "E-eh!?"
"I think Goten's getting jealous of you always hanging out with his niichan," Gokou smiled, wiping a drop of sweat off the back of his neck before it could roll down between his shoulder blades.
"Oh....well.....I'll do something with him, then..."
"Haiiii, that's the spirit!" Gokou gave Trunks another friendly slap, sending the boy slamming into the wall at a rather uncomfortable angle. "I'll tell him you said hi, but right now I gotta hit the fridge..."
"And maybe the showers too, Gokou-san?" the boy suggested candidly, knowing the other saiya-jin wouldn't take offense.
"Maybe!"
Trunks faked a laugh again, then turned and kept moving, scowling as soon as Gokou was out of sight around the corner. Damn, why did he have to look so much like his son? What was it about saiya-jin genes that recycled old looks again and again? Trunks wondered for a moment just how like Vegeta he looked, then dismissed the thought as he approached the gravity room.
He glanced at the panel of settings and opened the door, stepping into a small room with glass doors. A moment passed as the door behind him closed and the tiny chamber's gravity multiplied to reach what Vegeta was training at, then a second set of doors opened and Trunks walked out into the main room.
"Tousan!"
Vegeta didn't spare him a glance.
Trunks knew he had his father's attention anyway. "Tousan, mom wants to make sure you remember to be ready for the dinner this evening-"
A moment passed, and Vegeta relaxed. "Stupid women. I hate formal affairs." Still, Trunks knew, Vegeta did enjoy the doting of the public- when people realized who's husband he was, the treated him with utter respect and care- something Trunks was sure Vegeta missed from his prince-ly days.
Shrugging, the lavender-haired boy turned to leave. "That's all."
He was almost to the door when Vegeta spoke again, toweling sweat off his bare chest as he regarded his son. "You were home late last night."
"....yeah."
"What do you see in him?"
This time Trunks really did fall, slamming into the ground as the air rushed out of his lungs for a moment. When he sat up again, cradeling a bruised elbow, Vegeta continued. "The Gods must hate me- having both my brats infatuated with Kakarotto's spawn..."
Trunks sweatdropped. Since when did Vegeta know?! Since when did he care?! "A-...I-.... tousan...."
Vegeta moved over to him, throwing the towel down and watching his son with mild amusement, though it didn't show on his face. "It's even more pathetic with you and the older kid, considering you won't tell him anything."
"T-tousan, you're...not...mad at me?" Trunks managed to choke the words out, shocked by his father's almost decent manner. He had taken so many careful precautions to keep his little crush a secret, but now....Now his father knew, what did that mean? And would he be angry, would he scold him?
"Tch. Gaki." For a long stretch, nothing more was said, then "You're right though, he doesn't love you." That was it, then- a quick few words and all of Trunks' hopes were negated. "He's horribly done up with that green guy. Pikoro."
Trunks stared at his hands, unsure of what to say. "I thought you would care more than this..."
"You're just a kid. You have a long time to decide what you want to do with yourself. There's nothing wrong with what you are- saiya-jin are notoriously open to things of a sexual nature," Vegeta smirked, speaking the unusual words almost...wistfully? "And rutting saiya-jin will pounce on anything that moves."
"I'm not rutting," Trunks said, thankful for that. The last time that had happened he had put half a planet between himself and Gohan and had still felt the urge to knock Piccolo unconcious and take the other man for his own.
"I know. It says a lot for how you feel."
That was all Vegeta had to say- the saiya-jin stood and moved away, forcing himself into another set of push-ups. Before he left, Trunks asked one more question.
"Tousan....does mom know....?"
Vegeta regarded him as if he were an idiot. "Hell, no, you think I would tell her?!"
"Thanks, dad."
Smirking, the other saiya-jin performed a quick twenty pushups on one arm. "Oh, and Trunks..."
"Hai?"
"Pick up your mess before you go."
"Mess....?"
Glancing down, Trunks watched a few chunks of black plastic tinkle out of his pockets. "What the hell...?" It took a moment for him to realize that those malformed pieces were the last of his cellular phone. "Oh! DAMNIT!"
Grinning, Vegeta went back to his training.