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: 31 drabbles about Goten and Trunks' winter as a couple.

Word count: 1356

Rated M for language, eventual sexual scenes, etc.

*There are references to sexual content in this drabble. *

Our First December

Drabble #3- Sweaters (Revised)

Goten wonders if his insurance will cover reconstruction on his lip once he's inevitably bitten through it.

Other than that predicament he's rather comfortable. He's wrapped up in both his comforter and favorite Avengers blanket, with a pillow bunched up snuggly underneath his chest, and his body still relaxed in his lingering afterglow. He'd be fucking fantastic honestly, if it weren't for the whole lip biting thing, the textbook and worksheet spread out in front of him, and the pencil he can't help but beat against his temple in a futile attempt to get his brain to work. He's not entirely sure why he moved onto the next level of French, when he was struggling last year even with Trunks' help. What was he ever going to use French for anyway? Or History, or Chemistry, or Calculus, or any other class that he can't fucking do?

"Having trouble in the paradise that is senior year?"

Goten looks over with a glare. "Having trouble in the paradise that is writing a three-hundred-page paper?"

"Try ten pages, and yes, thank you for asking," Trunks grumbles, not moving his eyes from the laptop he has balanced on his drawn-up thighs. "My professor has, like, eighty students, so why exactly she would torture herself by making us write 800 pages of crap that she'll have to read and grade is beyond me."

Trunks may be amazing at mental math—okay, that may not have been the most difficult of math equations but Goten isn't good with numbers okay? —but when it came to essays, he was apparently utter trash. Or, at least, as trashy as Trunks could be about anything he does. "How many pages do you have done?"

"Like, four."

"When is it due?"

"Yesterday." Trunk rubs his hands over his eyes. "I'm going to have to ask for an extension. My professor is a push-over; she'll give me one."

Trunks' hands then go to roughly rub up and down his arms. "Turn the heat up, Goten."

"I already did. I think it's broken."

"Something is always broken with you and your damn room." Trunks gave Goten enough time to realize that he had been insulted, before he swings his legs off the edge of the bed. He gathers up his silver laptop and charger, and marches towards the door.

"Where you goin'?"

"Downstairs," Trunks replies. "I can't work under these conditions."

Goten waves him off with an eye roll and returns to his homework, just as lost as he was before.

Trunks closes the door behind him and pulls the charger up closer to his body, so he doesn't trip and kill himself. He sees Chi-Chi cooking in the kitchen as he passes, before he steps into the living room. Gohan is there with Pan asleep in his lap. It's around six pm, and Trunks isn't a parent or anything, but he thinks it's a little late for Pan to be taking a nap. From the annoyed look on Gohan's face, Trunks can assume that he agrees.

Gohan's face clears as he notices him entering the room. "Hey, Trunks."

"Hey," he replies as he sits on the other side of the couch, curling his legs underneath himself and situating the laptop on his lap.

"Has Goten been distracting you?"

Trunks flushes and steadfastly keeps his eyes on the computer screen, because yes, Goten certainly had been distracting him quite a bit not twenty minutes ago. Trunks decided that he would spare Gohan the details, because it wasn't necessary for the older man to know exactly how his little brother had been distracting him...

He clears his throat. "Y-yeah, and it's freezing in his room."

"Did you say you were cold?" Trunks nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns, he sees Chi-Chi watching him from a few feet away.

"Oh, uh, yeah..."

"Hold on," the woman says, before she walks down the hall and disappears into a closet. Trunks watches and nearly groans as she pulls out a large plastic bin and drags it to the middle of the living room. She drops to her knees, snaps the lip off it, and begins to sort through it.

"It's about time that I pull these out," she mutters to herself as she sorts through the folded piles. It's not long before a triumphant grin takes over her face as she holds out a single sweater. "I bought it for Goten, so it should fit you perfectly."

Trunks doesn't remember ever seeing that one before. The sweater was off-white with crazy, undefinable patterns of what he assumes to be black and red mistletoe, with the center having two large, black reindeers and a skinny figure that looked like a tree. Despite what Chi-Chi says, it actually wouldn't fit either of them; just from looking at it, Trunks could tell that the sleeves were too long, and the end of it would probably cover his butt in a way that would probably look quite fashionable if on a girl. It is, quite honestly, a very ugly sweater, and not even in a purposely ironic way.

Trunks really wanted that sweater. He wanted that ugly, oversized, comfortable-looking, undoubtedly warm sweater. Not to wear in public of course—Trunks hadn't completely lost his sense—but maybe around his dorm, or in his family's living room, or when things were getting steamy and he didn't have the willpower to throw on pants when he needed to run to the bathroom and grab a cond-

He fought the urge to shake away his blush. Should he even be surprised that Goten could invade his thoughts even when he was doing something as mundane as a contemplating a Christmas sweater?

No, he supposed he shouldn't.

"Er, thanks," Trunks says, trying to put as much dismay into his voice as possible as he takes the sweater with false reluctance. He seems to have fooled Gohan, who gives him an apologetic look as he's handed his own sweater. Apparently, he was not good enough to fool Chi-Chi, who smiles and winks at him before pulling out a tiny one for Pan.

Trunks' face grows even warmer, and he hurriedly tugs the sweater on over his t-shirt to hide the embarrassing look. Once the sweater is situated over his torso (it hugs his butt quite nicely, he admits), he pushes the long sleeves to his wrist, and brings his attention back to his paper. As he types—now warm and cozy—his mind wanders to his boyfriend upstairs and what he will say when he sees it on him. Will Goten make fun of him? Probably (never mind that the sweater is his). Will Goten trace his fingers on the reindeers with every intent of tickling Trunks in the process? Bet on it. Will he try to take it off? Yeah, of course—Goten was always trying to take his clothes off. Will Trunks let him?

...Perhaps. And when—if—he lets Goten take it off, Goten will probably do that thing where he kisses Trunks all over while he unbuckles-

...Combined with the rate of trade during the Byzantine Empire time-period. My belt, and pulling my pants off with that cheeky grin of his and

"Gah!" Trunks hisses quietly, furiously pounding the backspace key to delete the last sentence from his essay with burning cheeks. Honestly, thinking about sex while wearing a hideous sweater, and working on a nerve-wracking essay while surrounded by his boyfriend's family was just about every level of not okay. That was something Goten would do, not him.

It must be because he's wearing Goten's sweater; there's no other explanation.

... Trunks still isn't giving it back.

End