Gods, Goten lived in the shittiest part of town. It had actually crossed the billionaire son's mind more than once the younger half Saiyan did it on purpose just to fuck with him. At least his petri dish of a homestead was close to some good restaurants and the liquor store. Gotta find that silver lining. It was also a benefit his temporary roommate was hot or Trunks would take into serious consideration moving back in with his parents. Being single fucking sucked.
It took about a month for his pampered ass to adjust. He made a point to remember to lock and capsule his off the line sports car before heading up so it stopped getting broken into, change into street clothes on the way home from work so as not to look like a soft target for a halfhearted theft attempt, and refrain from making eye contact with the desperate older woman down the hall who always stood too close and salaciously asked about his workout routine. It was surprising and rather relieving to go practically unnoticed in the slum part of town. Despite the purple hair and his mother's blue eyes, no one really believed one of the richest people in West City lived in an area on the wrong side of the tracks. Not being recognized for once was strangely liberating.
He figured all this 'roughing it' was good for building character. It was all worth it for the guy he had waiting when he came home. Home. It took some time to get used to that. The situation with the 'guy' was more opaque. Trunks' didn't want to think about affixing a label as he had with Marron and he was grateful Goten just went along with whatever. Within the safety of their small shared space, Trunks was content with the ambiguity of the casual fling. Even after 2 months, he was still unsure about where they stood with that particular possessive identifier and he was fine not bringing attention to it.
"I'm home." Trunks called, entering the kitchen and craning his neck up to take in a delectably sweet aroma of chocolate and sugar that hit him like walking into a bakery. He crossed the floor as Goten appeared from the living room.
"Hey," Goten replied as he took Trunks' hand, gently rubbing his thumb at his wrist's underside before letting go. It was a habitual gesture at this point, borne out of the breakup. A physical reassurance of the unspoken connection that Trunks appreciated every time. "Have a good day?"
"It was fine. Why does it smell like cake in here?"
"Because I had a shitty day. Called my mom and everything for the recipe. It's her famous chocolate one." Trunks knit his eyebrows while sticking out his lip in a fake pouting expression. "Don't worry. I left you a slice."
"Good. 'Cause I'd feel left out if you didn't." He teased as he pecked Goten's jawline swiftly.
As he ventured over to the counter where he spied a plastic-wrapped slice of chocolatey heaven, he paused upon hearing Goten do his 'I need to talk seriously' throat clear.
"Did you go see Marron today?" The dark-haired man inquired, a twinge of hope in his question.
Shit . Ever since the split, the two refused to even mention her name, Trunks out of pride and Goten out of shame. Regardless of the details, it appeared that both men had managed to get on Marron's blacklist.
For a while, Trunks rode that wave of denial up until the younger man seemed emboldened enough to request a conversation with her directly, 'to clear the air' he'd say. Trunks, on the other hand, didn't think he needed to meet with her any time soon. She made the decision to tear his heart out and break up with him. As far as he was concerned, they were done. He had moved on. Goten didn't seem too keen to follow through with his 'out of sight, out of mind' approach though.
Meeting her was a passing thought that Trunks perceived as an abatement to his friend's nagging conscience and hoped would dissipate over time. Then the requests for a truce began. Trunks rolled his eyes to the wall. He just wanted Goten to stop asking.
Putting on his best poker face, he smiled.
"Uh, yea." He lied. "We went out to lunch today, actually. Talked things out. She's fine. We're still friends."
He observed Goten tilt his head, moderately unconvinced while trying to remain as neutral as a Son possibly could. "Really? She's fine."
"Mhm." Trunks nodded, noting that despite the uncertainty, there still lay some apprehension with meeting her himself. Trunks posed a bluff he knew wouldn't be taken up, even for all the zeni in the world. "You can go ask her yourself if you want."
As predicted, Goten drew back with a shake of his head. "No. If you say she's okay, then…"
Trunks pivoted on his heel. "You haven't started anything for dinner yet, have you?" Trunks asked, deliberately changing the subject as he perused the fridge.
Goten took a second to respond. "Not yet."
"Chicken and pasta okay?"
"Yea. Thanks. I'm gonna go change."
Trunks let out a relieved breath as Goten left sounding a lot more persuaded than he thought he would. Or perhaps he was still petrified of the blonde. Either way, Trunks was glad he was the more trusting one of the two.
With the water boiling and the chicken braised and simmering in a creamy white wine tomato sauce, Trunks rested a hand on his hip sipping a generous glass of leftover wine. He relaxed his stance at a slant as he stirred in the dry pasta. He turned his attention at the feeling of being watched.
Sure enough, Goten leaned against the arch separating the kitchen from the living room in sweats and a loose tank top. He snickered to himself.
Trunks narrowed his eyes with a teasing smirk. "What are you staring at, creeper?"
"You know, you look just like your Dad standing like that." He remarked in observational nonchalance.
Trunks immediately adjusted his stance with a frown. "Why would you say that?"
"Are you offended?" He grinned.
"I just don't know why you would say that."
Goten playfully shrugged. "I just noticed how similarly you guys stand. I wasn't making a personal comparison."
"Yea, well, at least I don't look like a fucking carbon copy of my dad." Trunks retorted, bristling peevishly.
Dark eyebrows cinched together. Goten made a point to only touch Trunks' bicep with the back of his hand as the older man tensed from agitation.
"Why are you getting so upset?" He inquired gently. Trunks flinched as Goten cocked his head, confused that the intended conversation was meant to be light and pithy, not devolve into defense. He hated being scrutinized, especially by Goten who was super unsubtle about it. "Are you… are you considering telling them? Is that what's bothering you?"
"What's there to tell?" He deflected with a shrug. "It's not like we're anything ser-"
He glanced up at the hurt written across Goten's face. It was like kicking a puppy.
"-ious." He finished under his breath and pursed his mouth.
Trunks chewed on his tongue before going with honesty as he took a swig of wine. "I've been thinking about it lately. I would like to test the waters, y'know? I just… it's not gonna be pretty." He murmured in admission, stirring the pasta sauce with messy strokes that it dripped over the side of the pan and sizzled on the burner.
The state of semi normalcy felt nice, natural, real. In some instances within their little half Saiyan friendship bubble, Trunks seriously considered what a potential relationship could look like. Even publicly on the rare times when they would go out to a bar, there'd be drinking and dancing and carefree fun to then end up in bed, cozying up while keeping the 'just friends' veneer intact. Trunks liked not being alone. Yet as the man that wore every single emotion on his sleeve, Trunks could tell Goten was getting antsy about their status the longer he stayed at his place.
"Honestly, I think you are being way harder on yourself than you should. We're just living together, right? Bulma will be supportive-" Goten insisted, leaning up against the counter.
"You know it's not her." Trunks said low as he ground his teeth lightly. They were stepping on contentious ground.
Hitting a soft spot, Goten tried to sound understanding while careful in his phrasing. "I know. But Vegeta's an alien. It's possible you're getting hung up on the wrong thing. I wouldn't be surprised if he was cool with us. Only Earth seems to-"
"I don't expect him to have a problem with that." Trunks interrupted, beginning to grind his teeth harder.
Getting the hint, tried another approach. "Why don't you tell your Mom first then so she can kinda help you through it?" He suggested.
"If I do that, she'll talk to him before I do. I know he won't tell me what he really thinks if she preps him." He replied curtly, cutting his eyes to the far wall. With a growl, he turned his icy glare onto Goten as he tossed the spoon petulantly on the counter. "Why don't you tell your parents if it's so damn important?" He hissed defensively.
Unprovoked, Goten merely grabbed a dish towel to wipe down the counter and the droplets that had splashed on his cheek. "You know why I can't."
"You put this all on me. To do it first?"
"Yea. 'Cause I'm not the one with a complex. My parents probably already know something about us. And if they don't, they won't care."
"Even Chichi?" Trunks stated pointedly. They both were well aware of how baby crazy the woman was. Goten with a man would certainly throw a wrench in her plans for more grandkids.
Doubling down, Goten brought his face closer to Trunks with a confident smirk. "Even Chichi."
"What the fuck am I gonna say?" Trunks' voice cracked, desperation laced in his tone.
With a steady turn of the stove's dial, Goten reduced the heat and placed the lid on the bubbling chicken dish, threading his arms around Trunks waist in the process. He stood a hair's breadth away as he tucked strands of violet behind the frazzled halfling's ear. He made a point to place his forehead on Trunks' as the older man took a staggered breath.
"I would think, something truthful." Goten supplied in a consoling tone. "Trunks, listen. I don't want you to feel cornered. If you don't want to talk to them, that's okay. I'm not asking to make this, whatever it is, a thing. I'm not saying we date or label it or whatever," Trunks shifted on his feet as Goten continued, "I just think it's fair for them and you to finally get this off your chest. You're into guys. Into me, right? So tell them. If you want."
They stood there with Goten's arms encircling Trunks, a citadel of protecting the younger prince from any harm, as he held his arms at his sides. Eyes closed, Trunks' breathing evened out, temper assuaged and went nearly silent in brooding consideration.
"I'll think about it." Trunks finally said and gently pushed away from him, pulled dishes down from the cabinet as he finished the last of his wine and opened a new bottle. He didn't care if he'd be judged for that, too.
He could feel Goten's probing eyes at his back as he traversed the kitchen on autopilot, pouring, scooping, garnishing, all while in deep concentration. As much as he wanted to pretend he wasn't involved in a clear existential crisis going on in his head, he wondered if Goten could commiserate in being stuck in his own thoughts sometimes. Trunks knew his….whatever he was… wanted to help. To say something encouraging. In all actuality, the older man would rather have his teeth pulled without anesthetic than drag Goten down into the depths of his uncertain mind when it came to his father.
It wasn't like he hadn't considered what a conversation with Vegeta would look like. It just felt like a risk he'd rather not take. Ever. Considering how much Goten meant to him, Trunks had come to the decision to meet with his parents long before saying out loud that he would think about it. He understood that, even with the difficulty of the subject matter, at least Trunks could find some peace within himself with a face to face discussion. For better or worse.