"No answer," Gohan said softly as he hung the phone up again. After two cups of liquid energy and four asprins he was feeling good enough to sit up and watch Piccolo as the namekusei-jin deftly stiched up a hole in one of his fighting gi's. "What do you think that means?"
"Well, maybe he's at work," Piccolo grunted, not really caring where the hell Trunks was. One thing his night of brooding had convinced him was that the demi-saiya-jin was not someone to be trusted or liked. That brief exchange of tension-filled words at the doorway of his home had left Piccolo with a very, very different opinion of Trunks' motives.
"No work today, it's sunday," Gohan shook his head, then reached for his coffee after glancing at the clock- 11:40 and he still wasn't out of bed! Piccolo watched his student through narrow eyes as the boy took a sip and smiled, letting the steam wreath his face- he looked so young like this....
"Maybe he's making up for what he missed yesterday," Piccolo said, his voice a great deal colder than it had been before. "while you two were out cavorting around the town."
"Hmm," Gohan considered it before taking another sip. If he noticed Piccolo's abrupt shift in tone, he didn't respond to it at all. "Maybe. I think I'll call him at the office."
Rolling his eyes, Piccolo waited for the phone call to end, thinking to himself. This sudden shift of talking and showing affection was grating on his nerves, all his mental barriers were struggling to remain in place- he was nervous. Even though he had known Gohan so well for so many years, he was nervous around him...
Like a schoolboy.
Piccolo grunted in disapproval as Gohan hang up again- "No answer at all. Where could he be?"
"I don't care..."
"Pikoro-san, come on..." Gohan sounded confused by the sudden change in demeanor- Piccolo was ignoring him again. Why? "I feel really responsible for last night. I have to apologize..."
The gi was done, and Piccolo said nothing as he folded the cloth and tossed it on the nightstand- Gohan regarded him for a moment before sighing. "What should I do? You're my mentor, my...my lover, please Pikoro-san, help me!"
Piccolo just turned and headed towards the door, satisfied that Gohan was suitably recovered from his little bout with alchohol the night before- the words were out before he could stop them. "I think you should forget all about him."
The door creaked as he went past, but didn't close, and Gohan was left in the darkened room to stew over what had just happened. For a few minutes the world had been brilliant, and if Trunks had answered the phone Gohan knew he had almost been truly happy. When was the last time that had happened?
Of course. His first time with Piccolo. The happiest moment of his life.
*************
Piccolo himself thunked down the stairs, a scowl spread across his face- that was normal, he was closing up again and he knew it. Yes, Gohan had been happy back there in the room, but that sort of open trust scared Piccolo to the bone. How could he give Gohan all of himself? If he trusted the boy and gave himself completely, it would give Gohan a sight of all the horror inside his mind, the memories-
His father's mass murders, his own killings, a thousand lies and injuries and hates that would never, could never be healed-
Shuddering, the namekusei-jin paused at the bottom of the stairwell and looked around darkly. He didn't feel like training, he was too confused to meditate, so that left one option- he ventured into the kitchen (ignoring the burnt remains of his first three attempts at making Gohan breakfast that were smeared across the ceiling and table) and over to the stove. He lit the gas and soon the stove was on- in moments, a teakettle was perched on the metallic prongs over the flame.
A pungent odor of charred food wafted up from the burner, but Piccolo ignored it. Sure, tea could easily be made by heating water with his ki, but somehow this ritual was relaxing. Almost like meditation...it made sense, though, habit was a sort of soothing element-
He wiped a seat clean of ashes and sat, thinking dully. Okay, point one-
'Gohan is unhappy.'
Point two.
'Trunks is obviously the enemy.'
Point three.
'I have no earthly idea how to keep him around, and I have nobody to turn to.'
There. That was it. Those were the facts.
'And four, I'm to afraid to show him anymore of my soul. He knows me as a mentor and a teacher, someone 'good' and brave to be looked up to. He doesn't know anything about my childhood or what I went through, he doesn't realize the hatred I nursed for eight long years... And if he learned, how could he still love me? How could anyone love that?'
He set his head in his hands. It was too confusing to figure out, a thousandand one variables that were different and new and frightening. Above all that was the fear of losing his lover to Trunks, but how could he stop it? And even worse, if Gohan would be happy with Trunks, wouldn't it be better just to let him go...?
"I can't," he whispered. "I can never let him go."
The kettle left off a shrill whistle that made the namekusei-jin jerk with surprise. After a moment he stood and finished preparing his tea.
Not ten seconds after he had sat down again, the doorbell rang.
Hesitantly, Piccolo and made his way to the door. For a moment he considered ignoring whoever it was, but then recalled what Gohan had done the last time he had tried that (Piccolo had slept on the couch for a week) and then decided against it.
Quickly he undid the deadbolt and opened the door to see-
Trunks stuffed a handful of flowers behind his back as Piccolo's face appeared in the doorway, and he struggled to speak. "E-er....Pikoro-san, I need to talk to Gohan...it's about last night..."
Piccolo's visage darkened until he was glaring at Trunks, a look that said 'I only tolerate you because he does, and if you take one wrong step with me I'll rip out your lungs and make you eat them whole.' He said nothing, though.
"Can I come in?"
The namekusei-jin turned and growled. "Stay the hell away from my house, and my Gohan."
The door slammed, and Trunks stood rooted to the spot. Had Piccolo figured that much out already? After a few seconds of silence Trunks started pounding on the door, shouting for permission to enter. He tried the knob, but Piccolo had locked him out-
Piccolo smirked and turned return to his tea, but Gohan appeared at the top of the stairs in nothing but his boxers and one of Piccolo's shirts, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Eh? Pikoro-san, who was it?"
"An insurance agent," Piccolo muttered as he picked up his tea and a copy of the morning paper.
Gohan listened closely at the muffled shouts coming from outside, then sweatdropped, glancing from his mentor to the door. "OI! That sounds like Torunkusu...!"
The namekusei-jin took a sip of his tea without looking up from his reading material. "Does it?"
Jumping down the stairs, Gohan undid the lock and opened the door, just in time for Trunks to fall inwards on top of him- he had been leaning against the door, and the door had suddenly disappeared....
Piccolo looked up again to see Trunks pinning Gohan to the floor, both of them blushing.
That was too much. Wordlessly he jumped up and scanned the room, then picked up a chair, and smashed Trunks over the head with it. Broken wood and torn flowers flew everywhere as Trunks collapsed, unconcious, still draped over Gohan's chest.
A moment of silence passed, then-
"PIKORO-SAAAAAN!!!!!"
Gohan struggled to his knees, holding Trunks' head in his arms, a terrified look across his face as blood trickled down from beneath the lavender hair of the other boy. "TORUNKUSU! TORUNKUSUUUU!" he shook the other demi-saiya-jin roughly, but Trunks didn't wake up. "P-Pikoro-san, how could you!?"
Piccolo looked away, arms folded across his chest.
"Help me, please, we have to get him up the stairs!"
He still didn't move.
Finally, Gohan lifted his friend and flew up off the ground, gingerly carrying him into the bedroom he shared with his mentor.
By the time Piccolo decided to follow the pair, Gohan had stripped off Trunks's shirt and had the saiya-jin boy on his stomach. Already a cross-crossing of blackening bruises could be seen, as well as a thousand splinters and a bleeding headwound that looked particularly nasty. Piccolo was about to protest the boy's being in his bed, but Gohan gave him a look that said 'say anything and you'll be on the couch for weeks.'
Instead of speaking, he lit up another cigarette, making Gohan frown darkly. "Pikoro-san, don't do that."
"Eh?"
"Smoking. It's disgusting."
Piccolo made a point of inhaling deeply and gusting a bit of smoke out his nose, while
Gohan started looking angrier. "Pikoro, I've been meaning to talk to you about that...it's not healthy, you're ruining your lungs!"
The namekusei-jin regarded the cigarette in his hands for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, they're mine to ruin."
"What about me, huh!? That smoke is hurting me too!"
"Fine. I'll smoke downstairs."
The door slammed behind him as he left Gohan alone with Trunks.
************
"Hmph," Gohan glared at the door and twisted a corner of the bedsheets in his hand angrily. "Who does he think he is? Don't I have any say in his habits?! He's going to get himself killed, and not even in a fight!"
Trunks groaned from the pillow, and Gohan squeaked in surprise. After a few seconds, Trunks' eyes flickered open, and he regarded Gohan with an adoring look in his eyes. "G...G-Gohan, what....." he winced as he tried to move, "happened...?"
"Pikoro-san hit you with a chair," Gohan said tiredly. "I don't know why. You landed on me and he just went off...." From the look on Gohan's face, Trunks decided that Piccolo was definately in the doghouse, so to speak. "I'll have him apologize. Don't worry."
The lavender-haired boy licked his lips and tried to speak. "Where....?"
"My room. I don't think you can go home like this....so...why not stay here with me and Pikoro until you feel up to leaving? I feel so guilty about this../\."
For a moment Trunks couldn't feel any luckier- he wanted to leap up and wrap Gohan in his arms, but he shoved the urge aside. "I....hai....I feel okay....." Saiya-jin genes healed fast, Trunks knew, but he was very good at playing injured.
"No, no, stay here. I'll be downstairs, yell if you need anything, okay?"
"H-hai..."
Gohan smiled weakly. "I have to talk to Pikoro."
***************
When Gohan found the namekusei-jin, he was propped up the couch, reading a paper. On one hand was perched a cigarette and in the other a can of beer-
Gohan's eyebrow twitched as he came up behind his mentor, fuming. "Pikoro-san!? Drinking...? You shouldn't do that! I hate that! Is this ALL YOU DO ALL DAY?!" Deftly he reached out, snatched the can of beer, and looked at it distastefully. "I can't believe this! You attack my friends and then come down here and destroy yourself!"
Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "Give that back!"
"NO! I WON'T!"
The cigarette was gingerly set against the ashtray, still burning as Piccolo leapt up and made a dive for Gohan, trying to snatch the can out of his hands. "NO!" The boy shouted, furious. "YOU CAN'T HAVE THIS BACK! YOU'RE GONNA APOLOGIZE TO TRUNKS, THROW THIS CRAP AWAY, AND START BEING RESPONSIBLE!"
Trying to pry Gohan's fingers off the can was hard, even when he was pinned to the carpet below. Piccolo struggled with him for a moment, then noticed his position, and grinned. It was easy to get ahold of his arms, and in moments Gohan was completely pinned, unable to move his arms or legs.
Piccolo smirked and leaned in, kissing him roughly and using his one free hand to peel off Gohan's shirt. The boy howled when he realized what was happening, dropping the beer can in his struggle to get free.
The namekusei-jin kissed him again, then moved down, the smooth skin of Gohan's neck pale against his dark lips as he bit him gently with his delicately pointed fangs. Gohan was trembling violently, half trying to escape and half loving the sensation and hating himself for that-
"Pikoro-SAN!"
His voice cracked as Piccolo began kissing down his chest, his fingers running across the boy's washboard stomach, tracing over the lines of muscle that he knew like the back of his hand.
"YAMERO! LET ME GO!"
Though he tried not to show it, Gohan sucked in his breath in anticipation as the top of his jeans was undone, then-
A sharp pain slammed into the side of his head, and Gohan blinked for a moment as the world spun, trying to get his bearings. What had happened? It took him a few moments to realize that Piccolo had hit him-
The sound of a can opening fizzed in the silence, and Gohan understood. A distraction. It had been a cruel, cruel distraction that not only won Piccolo the battle but also left Gohan standing there, wanting more, more more- "YOU BASTARD! HOW-"
"Don't try that again," Piccolo warned him, plucking his cigarette up again and taking a deep breath.
The demi-saiya-jin didn't know what to do. He stood, shaking as the tears beaded up behind his eyes and began spilling down his cheeks. He had been angry before, but not like this, not so furious with Piccolo that he wanted him gone forever- it wasn't just the smoking, just the drinking, just Trunks, it was so many months of so little attention all combining into one desperate moment-
Gohan turned and ran for the door, letting himself out into the mountain air. He picked a random direction and ran.
"Well, maybe he's at work," Piccolo grunted, not really caring where the hell Trunks was. One thing his night of brooding had convinced him was that the demi-saiya-jin was not someone to be trusted or liked. That brief exchange of tension-filled words at the doorway of his home had left Piccolo with a very, very different opinion of Trunks' motives.
"No work today, it's sunday," Gohan shook his head, then reached for his coffee after glancing at the clock- 11:40 and he still wasn't out of bed! Piccolo watched his student through narrow eyes as the boy took a sip and smiled, letting the steam wreath his face- he looked so young like this....
"Maybe he's making up for what he missed yesterday," Piccolo said, his voice a great deal colder than it had been before. "while you two were out cavorting around the town."
"Hmm," Gohan considered it before taking another sip. If he noticed Piccolo's abrupt shift in tone, he didn't respond to it at all. "Maybe. I think I'll call him at the office."
Rolling his eyes, Piccolo waited for the phone call to end, thinking to himself. This sudden shift of talking and showing affection was grating on his nerves, all his mental barriers were struggling to remain in place- he was nervous. Even though he had known Gohan so well for so many years, he was nervous around him...
Like a schoolboy.
Piccolo grunted in disapproval as Gohan hang up again- "No answer at all. Where could he be?"
"I don't care..."
"Pikoro-san, come on..." Gohan sounded confused by the sudden change in demeanor- Piccolo was ignoring him again. Why? "I feel really responsible for last night. I have to apologize..."
The gi was done, and Piccolo said nothing as he folded the cloth and tossed it on the nightstand- Gohan regarded him for a moment before sighing. "What should I do? You're my mentor, my...my lover, please Pikoro-san, help me!"
Piccolo just turned and headed towards the door, satisfied that Gohan was suitably recovered from his little bout with alchohol the night before- the words were out before he could stop them. "I think you should forget all about him."
The door creaked as he went past, but didn't close, and Gohan was left in the darkened room to stew over what had just happened. For a few minutes the world had been brilliant, and if Trunks had answered the phone Gohan knew he had almost been truly happy. When was the last time that had happened?
Of course. His first time with Piccolo. The happiest moment of his life.
*************
Piccolo himself thunked down the stairs, a scowl spread across his face- that was normal, he was closing up again and he knew it. Yes, Gohan had been happy back there in the room, but that sort of open trust scared Piccolo to the bone. How could he give Gohan all of himself? If he trusted the boy and gave himself completely, it would give Gohan a sight of all the horror inside his mind, the memories-
His father's mass murders, his own killings, a thousand lies and injuries and hates that would never, could never be healed-
Shuddering, the namekusei-jin paused at the bottom of the stairwell and looked around darkly. He didn't feel like training, he was too confused to meditate, so that left one option- he ventured into the kitchen (ignoring the burnt remains of his first three attempts at making Gohan breakfast that were smeared across the ceiling and table) and over to the stove. He lit the gas and soon the stove was on- in moments, a teakettle was perched on the metallic prongs over the flame.
A pungent odor of charred food wafted up from the burner, but Piccolo ignored it. Sure, tea could easily be made by heating water with his ki, but somehow this ritual was relaxing. Almost like meditation...it made sense, though, habit was a sort of soothing element-
He wiped a seat clean of ashes and sat, thinking dully. Okay, point one-
'Gohan is unhappy.'
Point two.
'Trunks is obviously the enemy.'
Point three.
'I have no earthly idea how to keep him around, and I have nobody to turn to.'
There. That was it. Those were the facts.
'And four, I'm to afraid to show him anymore of my soul. He knows me as a mentor and a teacher, someone 'good' and brave to be looked up to. He doesn't know anything about my childhood or what I went through, he doesn't realize the hatred I nursed for eight long years... And if he learned, how could he still love me? How could anyone love that?'
He set his head in his hands. It was too confusing to figure out, a thousandand one variables that were different and new and frightening. Above all that was the fear of losing his lover to Trunks, but how could he stop it? And even worse, if Gohan would be happy with Trunks, wouldn't it be better just to let him go...?
"I can't," he whispered. "I can never let him go."
The kettle left off a shrill whistle that made the namekusei-jin jerk with surprise. After a moment he stood and finished preparing his tea.
Not ten seconds after he had sat down again, the doorbell rang.
Hesitantly, Piccolo and made his way to the door. For a moment he considered ignoring whoever it was, but then recalled what Gohan had done the last time he had tried that (Piccolo had slept on the couch for a week) and then decided against it.
Quickly he undid the deadbolt and opened the door to see-
Trunks stuffed a handful of flowers behind his back as Piccolo's face appeared in the doorway, and he struggled to speak. "E-er....Pikoro-san, I need to talk to Gohan...it's about last night..."
Piccolo's visage darkened until he was glaring at Trunks, a look that said 'I only tolerate you because he does, and if you take one wrong step with me I'll rip out your lungs and make you eat them whole.' He said nothing, though.
"Can I come in?"
The namekusei-jin turned and growled. "Stay the hell away from my house, and my Gohan."
The door slammed, and Trunks stood rooted to the spot. Had Piccolo figured that much out already? After a few seconds of silence Trunks started pounding on the door, shouting for permission to enter. He tried the knob, but Piccolo had locked him out-
Piccolo smirked and turned return to his tea, but Gohan appeared at the top of the stairs in nothing but his boxers and one of Piccolo's shirts, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Eh? Pikoro-san, who was it?"
"An insurance agent," Piccolo muttered as he picked up his tea and a copy of the morning paper.
Gohan listened closely at the muffled shouts coming from outside, then sweatdropped, glancing from his mentor to the door. "OI! That sounds like Torunkusu...!"
The namekusei-jin took a sip of his tea without looking up from his reading material. "Does it?"
Jumping down the stairs, Gohan undid the lock and opened the door, just in time for Trunks to fall inwards on top of him- he had been leaning against the door, and the door had suddenly disappeared....
Piccolo looked up again to see Trunks pinning Gohan to the floor, both of them blushing.
That was too much. Wordlessly he jumped up and scanned the room, then picked up a chair, and smashed Trunks over the head with it. Broken wood and torn flowers flew everywhere as Trunks collapsed, unconcious, still draped over Gohan's chest.
A moment of silence passed, then-
"PIKORO-SAAAAAN!!!!!"
Gohan struggled to his knees, holding Trunks' head in his arms, a terrified look across his face as blood trickled down from beneath the lavender hair of the other boy. "TORUNKUSU! TORUNKUSUUUU!" he shook the other demi-saiya-jin roughly, but Trunks didn't wake up. "P-Pikoro-san, how could you!?"
Piccolo looked away, arms folded across his chest.
"Help me, please, we have to get him up the stairs!"
He still didn't move.
Finally, Gohan lifted his friend and flew up off the ground, gingerly carrying him into the bedroom he shared with his mentor.
By the time Piccolo decided to follow the pair, Gohan had stripped off Trunks's shirt and had the saiya-jin boy on his stomach. Already a cross-crossing of blackening bruises could be seen, as well as a thousand splinters and a bleeding headwound that looked particularly nasty. Piccolo was about to protest the boy's being in his bed, but Gohan gave him a look that said 'say anything and you'll be on the couch for weeks.'
Instead of speaking, he lit up another cigarette, making Gohan frown darkly. "Pikoro-san, don't do that."
"Eh?"
"Smoking. It's disgusting."
Piccolo made a point of inhaling deeply and gusting a bit of smoke out his nose, while
Gohan started looking angrier. "Pikoro, I've been meaning to talk to you about that...it's not healthy, you're ruining your lungs!"
The namekusei-jin regarded the cigarette in his hands for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, they're mine to ruin."
"What about me, huh!? That smoke is hurting me too!"
"Fine. I'll smoke downstairs."
The door slammed behind him as he left Gohan alone with Trunks.
************
"Hmph," Gohan glared at the door and twisted a corner of the bedsheets in his hand angrily. "Who does he think he is? Don't I have any say in his habits?! He's going to get himself killed, and not even in a fight!"
Trunks groaned from the pillow, and Gohan squeaked in surprise. After a few seconds, Trunks' eyes flickered open, and he regarded Gohan with an adoring look in his eyes. "G...G-Gohan, what....." he winced as he tried to move, "happened...?"
"Pikoro-san hit you with a chair," Gohan said tiredly. "I don't know why. You landed on me and he just went off...." From the look on Gohan's face, Trunks decided that Piccolo was definately in the doghouse, so to speak. "I'll have him apologize. Don't worry."
The lavender-haired boy licked his lips and tried to speak. "Where....?"
"My room. I don't think you can go home like this....so...why not stay here with me and Pikoro until you feel up to leaving? I feel so guilty about this../\."
For a moment Trunks couldn't feel any luckier- he wanted to leap up and wrap Gohan in his arms, but he shoved the urge aside. "I....hai....I feel okay....." Saiya-jin genes healed fast, Trunks knew, but he was very good at playing injured.
"No, no, stay here. I'll be downstairs, yell if you need anything, okay?"
"H-hai..."
Gohan smiled weakly. "I have to talk to Pikoro."
***************
When Gohan found the namekusei-jin, he was propped up the couch, reading a paper. On one hand was perched a cigarette and in the other a can of beer-
Gohan's eyebrow twitched as he came up behind his mentor, fuming. "Pikoro-san!? Drinking...? You shouldn't do that! I hate that! Is this ALL YOU DO ALL DAY?!" Deftly he reached out, snatched the can of beer, and looked at it distastefully. "I can't believe this! You attack my friends and then come down here and destroy yourself!"
Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "Give that back!"
"NO! I WON'T!"
The cigarette was gingerly set against the ashtray, still burning as Piccolo leapt up and made a dive for Gohan, trying to snatch the can out of his hands. "NO!" The boy shouted, furious. "YOU CAN'T HAVE THIS BACK! YOU'RE GONNA APOLOGIZE TO TRUNKS, THROW THIS CRAP AWAY, AND START BEING RESPONSIBLE!"
Trying to pry Gohan's fingers off the can was hard, even when he was pinned to the carpet below. Piccolo struggled with him for a moment, then noticed his position, and grinned. It was easy to get ahold of his arms, and in moments Gohan was completely pinned, unable to move his arms or legs.
Piccolo smirked and leaned in, kissing him roughly and using his one free hand to peel off Gohan's shirt. The boy howled when he realized what was happening, dropping the beer can in his struggle to get free.
The namekusei-jin kissed him again, then moved down, the smooth skin of Gohan's neck pale against his dark lips as he bit him gently with his delicately pointed fangs. Gohan was trembling violently, half trying to escape and half loving the sensation and hating himself for that-
"Pikoro-SAN!"
His voice cracked as Piccolo began kissing down his chest, his fingers running across the boy's washboard stomach, tracing over the lines of muscle that he knew like the back of his hand.
"YAMERO! LET ME GO!"
Though he tried not to show it, Gohan sucked in his breath in anticipation as the top of his jeans was undone, then-
A sharp pain slammed into the side of his head, and Gohan blinked for a moment as the world spun, trying to get his bearings. What had happened? It took him a few moments to realize that Piccolo had hit him-
The sound of a can opening fizzed in the silence, and Gohan understood. A distraction. It had been a cruel, cruel distraction that not only won Piccolo the battle but also left Gohan standing there, wanting more, more more- "YOU BASTARD! HOW-"
"Don't try that again," Piccolo warned him, plucking his cigarette up again and taking a deep breath.
The demi-saiya-jin didn't know what to do. He stood, shaking as the tears beaded up behind his eyes and began spilling down his cheeks. He had been angry before, but not like this, not so furious with Piccolo that he wanted him gone forever- it wasn't just the smoking, just the drinking, just Trunks, it was so many months of so little attention all combining into one desperate moment-
Gohan turned and ran for the door, letting himself out into the mountain air. He picked a random direction and ran.