A Lack of Understanding
(continued)

I finally get to the front door of Capsule Corporation, having cleared my mind of the fiasco in my kitchen from earlier this afternoon. Since it's such a nice day, though, I decided to take the normal human way of getting here: I took the ferry and then the bus. I can't remember the last time I took public transportation, probably not since when I was a kid and my mom was still taking me and Gohan into Satan City for back-to-school shopping. Once my dad came back, he pretty much took over driving us into the city whenever we needed, so there's really been no need for it. Honestly, I would have rather taken the bus - my dad's a horrible driver.

Once I walk up to the front door, I do something else I haven't done in a while: I actually ring the doorbell. It only takes a second for one of the main double doors to crack open with a tiny face about waist high peeking through the slit. The aqua hair is a dead give away.

"GOOOTEEEN!" she squeals, throwing the door wide open and almost off its hinges. The girl has yet to learn about her strength verses everyday household objects. The minute she sees me, she lights up like fireworks, just like every other time I've dropped by this house. The chocolate ice cream cone in her hand drips down her arm and onto the floor. Nothing but a bundle of smiles.

"How's my favorite girl doin'? Break any hearts today?" I jokingly flirt with her as I tousle one of her pigtails - I know she loves it. She responds with nothing but a giggle and some hardcore blushing across her nose as she bashfully looks the the ground. "Where's your brother?"

"He's upstairs packing up. You know, I'm going to get his room when he leaves," she announces proudly.

"What about my room? Will that be your room, too?"

"No..." she slyly hints around, looking at me with her wide innocent eyes. "That will always be your room, Goten! We can have a sleep over whenever you want. I'll allow it." She tries to act so adult it's adorable. Oh, if Trunks only knew what his little sister was growing up into. I laugh at the thought of him pounding every guy who comes within twenty feet of her once she gets to high school... if Vegeta doesn't get to them first. Wait.. Bra will will be way stronger than any guy that will ever look at her - she'll be just fine on her own.

I bend down and plant a big kiss on her cheek and take a giant lick of her melting ice cream cone before it looses another drip, freezing her rock solid in place. "Just promise me you'll always be my girl. Okay? No matter who sweeps you off your feet someday. Promise?"

Before I can even straighten up, she immediately latches onto my neck, near-squeezing the life out of me for a second, and takes off squealing into the house. I can already hear her yelling for her mother, going on about how me and her are going to get married someday. This must be how Trunks feels when Pan gushes all over him.

"You here to help, or just hit on my little sister?" he cracks from the top of the stairs, boxes stacked high in his arms which are no doubt filled with more junk from his room to be moved to his new place. Without much of a warning, he chucks one of the more heavier boxes in my direction. Luckily, I catch it with little effort. What is he packing anyway? Rocks?

"I have to please my fans, Trunks. Besides, isn't my niece still the official President of the 'Trunks Briefs Fan Club'?"

He just shakes his head at my corny humor, and heads back up stairs for another load.

After whatever we're bringing over today, we should have all of it moved out, but knowing Trunks, he's probably going to take everything with him that's not nailed down. I set the boxes on the floor near the front door, and follow him back up the stairs to his room to hopefully begin the last day of this back-and-forth-across-town stuff. I don't mind helping him out or anything - I'm just excited to finally spend our first night at the new place. To officially have somewhere to be ourselves. And every box we move is one step closer to that.

Two car loads and four pizzas later, me and Goten finally call it a day. It's official: I am now out on my own!

My raven haired counterpart flops down into the thick cushions of the new couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table like he owns the place. "Oh man, Trunks! I really wish I lived here," he sighs, looking over the spacious room now that it's beginning to look like an apartment instead of an empty warehouse. It started looking different to me the minute I gave Goten a key.

"'Ten - You're here now. You're the maximum amount of being here."

He laughs sarcastically at my smart-ass remark. "I mean all the time. I mean, I want to stay here, but..."

"I know."

I wish Goten could really live here with me. It would be perfect - parties, chicks, anything we want, any time we want it. Just the thought alone of never getting caught makes me start to hate the year difference in our ages again. Why does he still have to be in school? Come Sunday night, I know I'm not going to want him to leave.

"Well, why don't I stroll over to our kitchen to get some beers out of our refrigerator, and you and me can enjoy tonight together in our new place. Sound good?" I ask as I saunter over to the kitchen area and crack a smile at my blatant display of including him in every way possible to make him feel at home, regardless the fact he won't be getting his mail here anytime soon. I have already admitted to myslef that Goten's the reason I moved out in the first place, so everything here is already ours, not just mine.

"Right on!" Without having to convince him any further, he reaches over the side of the couch and plugs in the stereo, turning it up to levels we would surely get screamed at for if we were back at home. He shouts over the sound, "This is going to make it hard to go back, you know."

I know.

As I scan around the room on my way to the kitchen, I realize that the amount of stuff I've still got in boxes scattered everywhere will probably take me a year - if not more - to unpack. I didn't even bring everything, which makes it more obvious that I have entirely too much shit in the first place. But of all the boxes piled around in maze-like fashion, one small brown one on top of the kitchen island catches my attention the most, standing apart from all the others. Clearly the most important one here, at least to me.

It's marked "Goten's Things".

I hope someday, there will be more of those kind of boxes to unpack instead of just the one.

"You gettin' me a beer, Trunks? Or are you just going to stare at the boxes?" he laughs, snapping me out of the little sentimental moment I've created for myself. I'm glad he's not always the most observant one.

"Yeah yeah. Hang on..." I call back, swinging open the huge stainless steel doors of the oversized refrigerator I bought yesterday to match the rest of the appliances in the kitchen. Needless to say, there's nothing in it right now but a couple six-packs, and I somehow think this will be the usual sight when I open this thing, seeing how neither me nor Goten know how to cook particularly well. Forget about actual food shopping. I think I just bought myself a very expensive beer cooler.

I grab two and throw one over to his direction. "Heads up!" I don't even have to look past the doors to know he caught it. He's got the quickest reflexes I've ever seen. Goten's also got the highest liquor tolerance I've ever seen. Since it generally takes me 5 or 6 quick shots to be plastered, I have to reluctantly admit that I'm definitely the lightweight between us in that regard. Judging by the empty crushed can just thrown back in my direction, Goten is more than aware of it.

I'm in trouble.

By no means would I ever take advantage of my best friend's lack of judgment when he's intoxicated. Really. I'm told I'm a good, wholesome guy. My parents raised me to be respectful. So I try to look out for Trunks, though it's mostly so he doesn't wreck half the house or do something profoundly stupid. But whenever alcohol becomes a factor between us, all of my better Son manners go willfully out the window.

Fact of the matter: Trunks is a lightweight. At least when it comes to drinking. Granted we haven't had that much experience, especially since we're still both under the legal age, but the little card that I snatched from my brother's wallet that 'magically' turns me into Son Gohan when I'm in the liquor store certainly helps out our practice. As usual, Trunks can't even get past a six pack and a couple of shots before he's already slurring his words and stumbling all over the apartment.

But what I like most about his current state is his complete and utter ability to not give a fuck. I know that's at least where I'm at right now.

"Tell you what..." he mischievously proposes to me, standing slightly crooked against a barstool in the kitchen, that wicked little smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I'll go heat up the shower all good and hot, and... if you... you know... want anything..."

I still think it's amazing how comfortable we are about this, compared to the first time almost four years ago.

"You read my mind, sir."

He tilts his head down to the side and laughs lazily under his breath as chunks of his pale lavender hair fall into his eyes, giving me a quick glimpse of that innocent little boy that's still inside him somewhere, even though it's becoming more and more obscured under his grown up facade. I know his act about being Mr. Big Company Guy at work, but I think I'm the only one that still gets to see the real Trunks anymore. Even if it's only when we're alone.

"You sure you're not too drunk there?" I crack, referencing his askewed attempt at vertical. "That counter looks like a crutch for you. Not sure you'll handle being on a wet surface next to a glass door too well."

"Nah. I'm fine. C'mon..." He motions for me to follow, shuffling towards the bathroom with drink still in hand.

I hang back a minute before joining him in, and instead start to pick up some of the empties and other garbage lying around on the coffee table and in the kitchen. I know he won't start without me, but... come to think of it, there's a good chance he might pass out. With that thought, I drop what I'm doing, down the rest of my drink to catch to his level of blurry intoxication. The fuzzy hiss of the shower water being turned on is my cue to get moving.

The bathroom in this place is huge! Bigger than even the ones at Capsule Corporation, I think. As soon as I step in, I look down to the floor and can tell that Trunks must of had little patience getting undressed by the ripped tee-shirt and jeans trailed up to the shower doors. This isn't the first time he's been in a hurry to get naked for something like this.

"You know Trunks, I would have helped you instead of having to tear your damn clothes off. Next time, wait a minute..."

"The water feels great." He doesn't care, shouting over me.

"Oh, I'm sure it does," I smirk, shaking my head at his total indifference to sacrificing another pair of underwear from his lack of patience. I strip down to nothing and throw my clothes in a pile by the corner before sliding the shower door open. Through the hot steam, I can already see him leaning up against the back of the black tiled wall with closed eyes, arms pressed down to the sides of the wall next to him, hot water pouring off his body in sheets. "You look like you're practicing to model for a calendar, you're aware of that, right?" I laugh at him as I step in, flinching at the scalding temperature before closing the door behind me.

"The water feels sooo great."

"So I've heard." I don't hesitate, moving right up against him. "But I think I know what might feel better," I rasp in a deep voice, bracing the palm of one hand flat against tiles beside his head, wrapping the other tightly around his already established erection. He doesn't even open his eyes, just eliciting a low groan from his throat that tells me he likes it. Of course, I knew he would - we've done this too many times for me not to know exactly what he likes and how he likes it.

I take my time and watch him closely, paying attention to every reaction to please him just like he wants, making him ache with torturous anticipation. I revel in the fact that I can do this to him. I feel powerful - teasing him, making him silently beg for my every action. Pulsing under my grip, desperate for me to give him more but I'm the one in control.

I can't believe that this is what it's become over the years - this casual thing between us that nobody knows about. I just can't imagine being who we are without this. To hyper-sexualized half-Saiyans. Nobody could possibly know either one of us like this.

He bites down hard on his bottom lip and pushes his hands firmly against the sides of the walls beside him, flexing his arms as he drops his head.

He's trying to hold back.

"Don't fight it, Trunks," I whisper hotly in his ear, quickly losing any shred of implied inhibitions we still might have about such things. "Come for me."

...Did I just say that out loud?

This is new. It's not often we have much extra physical contact when we do things to each other. The fact that we're drunk is probably the only reason we are now. But I really don't care - it's making it more intense than I ever imagined it could. I crave more of him.

He leans forward slightly to rest his forehead against my shoulder, and the low moan that's rumbling from his chest now vibrates through mine. My own aching need carelessly brushes up against his leg, making me wonder if he even notices? But before I can think of an appropriate reaction to it, he suddenly grabs a hold of me, mimicking my actions almost exactly as he slides his wet hand over and over. Nothing sublte about it. I'm instantly near-painfully aroused under his touch.

I'm loosing sense of where I am. Simultaneously stroking each another. Harder. Faster. I choke out a groan under my breath.

"Why don't you come for me," he breathes heavy on my neck, deeply inhaling the sent of my skin as he grabs onto the back of my shoulder tightly. His fingers dig into the muscle, almost desperately holding on. I don't want him to let go.

I wrap my arm around him and run my hand up through the short hair at the nape of his neck - pressing the side of my face to his soaking wet hair and losing myself completely in the sensation of doing this together - a far stretch from the first time we did this! There was hardly any contact at all back then, but now... now we're so close, our hands are hitting as we pick up the pace, speeding up for our release, grabbing onto each other with more force than I realize. I feel where he's at. I don't know where Trunks ends and I begin.

And just like every other aspect about us, he and I are in perfect sync. We both squeeze harder and pump faster until we finally reach our climax together for the first time. Easily the most incredible feeling I've ever experienced in all seventeen years of my life!

All too quickly we've finished, leaving us crushed against each other in the heavy rain of water from behind me. Trunks' body moving with mine as my chest rises and falls. Inhaling the moist steam around us. Feeling his hot cum drip down my stomach, as I know mine is on him. Shaking. Breathing ragged. Hearts pounding.

We laugh together under taxed breath. I've never felt this close to Trunks before... but if I never had to get out of this shower again, I wouldn't.

"Did I already mention that I fucking love this apartment?"