Disclaimer: I am far too lazy to come up with quite a complex series such as Dragon ball Z. I don't own it, nor do I wish I owned it, because that sounds like a lot of work…
Summary: 14 drabbles about Goten and Trunks' Valentine's Day.
Word count: 2124
Rated M for language, eventual sexual scenes, etc.
Our First Valentine's Day
Drabble #8- Poems (revised)
"First, let's go over the report from the last meeting, which was held on June 24th. Mr. Figueroa, over to you," Bulma said, smoothing down her skirt before reclaiming her seat.
"Thank you, Mrs. Brief. Allow me to summarize the main points of the last meeting…"
Trunks believes he deserves some credit, maybe even an applause or two. It took a lot of effort not to roll his eyes, or huff in annoyance, or plead to any and all gods who would listen, or even so much as gaze longingly at the clock. Not that it would help anything, given that the meeting had only just started. Still, it's a comfort that he's denying himself, and that must count for something.
Mentally, he yawns and shakes his head, before forcing himself to refocus on the thick, bald man whom was speaking.
"In my opinion, we have been focusing too heavily on urban customers and their needs. The way I see things, we must return to our rural base by developing an advertising campaign to focus on their particular needs."
Gods, why?
Trunks wasn't sure if he should be thankful that he wasn't required to give an opinion, seeing as how he was technically only an observer. On one hand, he was glad he didn't actually have to engage in what was probably the most boring topic to have ever been discussed in history, but without the responsibility of giving input, it was even harder to pay attention.
He tried, but there was simply no way he could possibly care about the "ways to improve sales in rural market areas". Not exactly promising, considering he planned to work in this field for roughly the next 45 years of his life, but nonetheless true.
"But Mr. Figueroa, do you not think it would also be detrimental to abandon our urban consumers?"
It was a struggle for Trunks not to bang his head very hard against the table in front of him, because really, who fucking cares?
On and on the meeting went in this fashion, stuffy men and women pitching their ideas across the large mahogany table. After what felt like approximately seven years of listening to his own mother's never-ending ramble to defend some no-name woman's claim, he chanced glancing up at the clock.
Ten minutes had passed.
Kill him, someone, please.
It seemed that his pleas for death were to fall on deaf ears. Thusly, another ten minutes of pretending to care about lame marketing opinions while staring unseeingly past their heads at the wall behind them went by. It was around this time that he realized it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus even on the crème-colored piece of architecture. When he blinked his eyes, he was surprised at the slight sting and heaviness he encountered.
He was falling asleep.
He did his best not to draw attention to the fact that he was quite frankly panicking. He blinked as rapidly as he could despite the futility of it. If his body wanted to sleep, then it would. With nothing like homework or some annoying Son to hold his attention, there was no point in fighting it. Still he had to try—Trunks doesn't even want to think about how the rest of his life will go if he truly falls asleep in this moment right here and now—and pray with all his might that something, anything, would keep him awake.
His prayers were answered in the form of the cell phone in his front pocket. The sudden vibration of an incoming message startled him so badly that he nearly yelped. Thankfully, his mother was too busy still debating why urban consumers were just as important as the rural consumers to notice.
He shouldn't do it. Just because they weren't paying attention to him didn't mean he could pull out a cell phone. It was not an easy fight for his mother to convince all those whose opinions mattered that it wasn't a horrible idea to pass over her company to her twenty-year old son, and the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize it. Not only would it be highly unprofessional to start texting right now, it would be downright, unforgivably, rude.
Then again, so was passing out from exhaustion and boredom...
Mentally cursing himself beyond all creation and hating himself for falling into the young adult stereotype, he maneuvered his fingers to slip the cellphone out of his pocket. He held it down by his knee, and once the device was unlocked, he swiftly turned the brightness down as low as it would go. It was hard to see the dim words that were partially hidden by the table for extra cover, but with his mother's tendency to randomly be observant, he refused to risk it.
[Heeeeeeey baaaabe :-*]
Really, who else would it be beside Goten?
Trunks rolled his eyes at the message and 'kissy emoji' but refused to reply. It was one thing to simply check a message, but a different thing entirely for him to actually reply. Still, he would have to thank Goten later for the quick burst of needed energy.
With that in mind, he effortlessly slipped the phone back into his pocket. He was surprised two minutes later, however, when it was vibrating against his thigh again.
[Roses are red,
So is the case of my phone
Why won't you talk to me?
I'm forever alone :'(]
Trunks read over the message multiple times until he was 100% positive that Goten was actually so hurt by his silence that he wrote a poem about it. Trunks literally doesn't think he's ever met such a dorky (and fucking annoying) person in his life.
Well... one message couldn't hurt. After all, Goten deserved at least an explanation for his efforts.
[Im in a meeting… and thats not how the poem goes dumbass]
It was a few moments later when the phone vibrated once again in his palm.
[Roses are red,
Violets are camo
Out of seven billion people,
I love you the mOst!]
Trunks couldn't help it; how could he possibly ignore something so horrible?
[That was terrible Goten and you should be ashamed of yourself. Regardless of your emphasis on the 'O', 'camo' and 'most' dont rhyme…]
Trunks doesn't bother re-locking his phone, seeing as how it was barely a second later that Goten replied:
[Roses are red,
Violets match the sky
Poems are hard...
... and so am I]
Trunks nearly chokes, invoking a quick glance from his mother, before she returned to listening to the point a man—whom Trunks really should've been making an effort to listen too—was making. He isn't sure why exactly he was so surprised that he had to react in such a way; this is Goten he's talking to, after all.
He straightens his body and clicks on the keyboard. He shouldn't play along, but maybe if he does, Goten will take the hint and leave him alone.
[Roses are red,
Violets aren't blue
If you don't leave me alone,
I'm going to choke you]
A moment later:
[Roses are red,
Violets are pinky
Choke me, Trunks?
Sounds kinda kinky ;-)]
[Roses are red,
Pinky isn't a color
If you send me another,
I'll show it too your mother]
Trunks hid his smug smile, unable to deny that his last poem was quite clever. Still, he knew better than to hope that it would end Goten's annoying game. He knew his Son too well.
[Roses are red,
Violets are green
I know you love it, Trunks,
There's no reason to be mean]
Trunks sent a glare emoji.
[Roses are red,
Violets are purty
90% of my dreams about you,
Are very dirty]
[Roses are red,
violets grow in dirt
Learn how to spell,
You fucking pervert]
[Roses are red,
Violets also grow in grass
I think you should spread your legs,
And let me at that ass]
Trunks' fingers faltered as his cheeks began to redden. He's used to Goten's vulgarity, but the abruptness of it sent heat pooling in his stomach in a rather embarrassing way given where exactly he's at right now. Mainly he's pissed because every time he blinks, he can see and practically feel Goten's hands pushing his legs apart to fit himself between them and goddammit this is not the time!
Irritated and humiliatingly bothered, he types back:
[Roses are red,
My annoyance is true
I have five fingers,
And the middle one is for you]
Moments go by in silence, enough time for Trunks to calm his face and the heat in his body. He waits, but still there is no reply, until a whole minute goes by and he figures Goten has finally taken the hint. Satisfied, he tucks the device back into his pocket, only to nearly flip the table when it suddenly vibrates again.
Holding back a snarl, he opens his text messaging app for what he promises is the last time, only to be met with a long paragraph of words.
[Violets are blue,
roses are red
I really can't wait,
To get you in bed.
Roses are red,
violets are gold
Hearing you moan,
Never gets old.
Roses are red,
you may be older
But I still want you on your back,
With your legs over my shoulders.
Roses are red,
I have an endless list:
Your thighs, your hips, your lips,
Are only a few of the places I'll kiss.
Roses are red,
forgive me if I bite
For hours you'll be screaming my name,
Just wait until tonight ;-)]
Trunks, to his credit, did not in fact squeal in an undignified manner, though his face did heat up to a sweltering degree. The fire in his stomach had returned tenfold, and it took all of his control not to spontaneously combust right in front of his mother and her colleagues. Goddammit, why did Goten have to do this to him?!
Through Trunks' physical turmoil, he can feel eyes on him. He can't help but look over, and too his mortification, he finds his mother glancing at him with an amused smile on her face and a knowing look in her eyes.
He was going to kill Goten, and in the most unmerciful way possible.
The vibration that Trunks has grown accustomed to rears its ugly head again, and while every fiber of his being tells him to ignore it (he can't handle another like the last one, he just can't), he still gives into his curiosity, and reluctantly opens the message.
[Roses are red,
Violets are blue
Faces like yours,
Belong in a zoo.
But don't be afraid,
for I'll be there too.
Not in the cage,
but laughing at you!]
Trunks deadpanned. He hoped that Goten could feel the force of his glare through the phone because oh was he glaring. The heat in his body was deflating like a popped balloon, but the urge to inflict bodily harm on a certain Son remained.
[I'm only joking,
I've got nothing else to do
So I might as well tell you,
How much I love you!
I loved you yesterday
Even more so today,
Tomorrow's a given
Forever and always!
So I hope you enjoyed these poems,
That I made up for you!
Hope it makes you smile,
And brightens your day too!]
A second later:
[P.S. I'm still gonna pound you until YOU'RE red and blue tonight ;)]
Trunks held back his snicker and opted to roll his eyes. Still, despite his lingering annoyance, he can admit that Goten was a big sap, and thusly deserved something equally sappy. So he typed with no reservations until he was satisfied with his messages. Once they were sent, he shut his phone down. His energy was back, and he found it much easier to pay attention to the discussion that was still happening around him, even if his mind kept wondering just what exactly the coming night had in store for him. The way this day is going, he'll certainly benefit from some explicit action in their bedroom at the end of it.
[Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
That's what they say,
But it just isn't true.
Because roses are red,
and apples are too
But violets are violet,
They really aren't blue.
But you still make me happy
As only you can,
Being with you
makes my life grand.
So thank you, baby
With all that is me,
You're an idiot but I love you
For all of eternity]
[P.S. you best get all the rest you can now because youll need it for tonight. I plan on looking like roses and violets by tomorrow morning and you better not disappoint me.]
End
LVR4Trunks-n-Vegeta: Lol who doesn't want to kiss Trunks? ;P
annecam: Thank you, I'm so glad you like my writing! Also nice to see another Cayon fan :D!
aangismyhomie: Thanks for commenting! I don't mind if you do an autumn one. Sounds like it'll be awesome!
(The above responses were written in 2016).