Yay! Chapter 4 is here :D!

This one is a little shorter than the ones before it (but still decently sized), but that's only because I wanted to get it out so fast. It doesn't take away from the quality though, so no worries there :).

Now please read, review and enjoy!

"Trunks, could you please come help me downstairs for a bit?"

"Can't Baba or Dad do it?"

"No, they can't, and it wouldn't hurt you to help around the house every once in a while," his mother shouted from down the stairs. It was a miracle that her voice carried this far, but then again, she was Bulma. If she wanted to be heard, she'd make herself heard.

Trunks rolled his eyes and set his controller aside. He shot a 'thank you' to up above, for he had just finished another round of BlasterSmash, so it wasn't like she was really interrupting him.

"Trunks, will you hurry up already!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he shouted back. It took him a little while, but after some searching he managed to locate his mother in the kitchen, standing in front of the sink and stirring what seemed to be shredded meat for the spaghetti sauce to come. His little sister Bulla was sitting on the countertop and was talking animately about her day of school.

"And Teach said that I had the best drawing she had ever seen!" She was just rounding off what was, Trunks suspected, one of the many, many stories she had already regaled to their mother. Trunks knew only of one person who could talk that much in such little time, but the only difference was that Marron annoyed him when she did. But not Bulla, god no. He'd never admit it to anyone but his family, but Bulla was his little princess.

"Trunks!" Bulla shouted as soon as she laid eyes on him. This was how it always went. Bulla always had a very busy routine on Saturday morning, one that involved dancing lessons, riding horses and a whole lot of those things that girls seemed to enjoy doing. Trunks couldn't wrap his head around her even if he tried, but hey, whatever made her happy.

"Heya Princess," Trunks said, breaking into a smile as she jumped off the countertop and into his arms. She was wearing one of her frilly dresses today, the fabric a baby blue and just thin enough for the current weather. She wrapped two short arms around her neck and nuzzled her head there, acting as if she hadn't seen him in a year. Of course, she was still very young, so it might as well have been that long to her.

"How was your day?" Trunks asked, pulling his eyebrows up so far that they were in danger of getting lost in his hair.

Bulla gave a giggle and smooched him on the cheek, making his insides melt. "It was great!" she cooed. "Miss Tina from dancing showed me how to do a pier-who-wet! I can do them now too! Wanna see?"

Trunks laughed, but shook his head. "Another time, okay? I think Mommy wants me to help her cook and I don't think she'd like it if you started dancing in the middle of the kitchen."

Bulla glanced warily at her mother, who only nodded in confirmation of Trunks's statement.

"Okay then," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Can I sit on the counter again?"

"Sure you can, Princess," Trunks replied, hoisting her back onto the granite plate. He then turned to Bulma. "Unions?"

"Unions," his mother repeated.

Bulma had been doing this for as long as Trunks had been able to hold a knife steady. She hated chopping them herself. She would always complain how they made her eyes water and god forbid that her mascara became runny. Trunks decided not point out how she would sometimes look like a homeless person after a night in the laboratory. Instead he took a cutting board and a knife and got to work.

For a few minutes there weren't any sounds in the kitchen apart from Trunks's chopping and Bulma softly humming a tune. Trunks enjoyed this, as he did with all silences. But Bulma decided to break it after stepping away from the counter and lighting a cigarette.

"So how's the new kid?" She asked, leaning a hand on her hip. "I just remembered that I forgot to ask."

"Oh, he's great, actually," Trunks said, a smile breaking out. "And don't tell me that surprises you, you've met him yourself."

Bulma sniggered and pulled from her cigarette. "Yeah, I did. He's a nice kid, just like his brother."

"Yeah, only he's not as much of a brainiac as Gohan is," Trunks pointed out. "He says he's more into playing guitar and whatnot."

"Any chance I can get to see him sometime soon?" Bulma asked, very obviously doing her best to sound casual.

Trunks smirked at her. Sure enough, she was once again pushing him to try and get social life. A year ago he would've brushed the comment off, saying that he didn't really need the company. He would've said the same a month ago. But with everything that had happened as of late, with Goten arriving at school, and BansheeBlues appearing on the radar out of nowhere, Trunks was actually inclined to do just what his mother was proposing. Believe it or not, but he actually enjoyed having friends.

"Yeah, maybe," came his answer. "It doesn't sound like too bad of an idea. Plus he already knows you, so it won't be too awkward to introduce you."

"What?!" Bulma asked, raising her voice in mocked irritation. "Why have I ever tried to embarrass you?"

"When haven't you?" Trunks quipped. "I'm pretty sure you love nothing more than seeing me sweat."

"Well I can't deny that," Bulma said.

"Trunks?" Bulla piped up all of a sudden. "Who is 'the new kid'?"

"Oh, haven't I told you?" he said, honestly surprised. "Well there's a new boy in my class now. Do you remember Gohan?"

Bulla screwed up her whole face in thought, making Trunks laugh. She was likely trying to remember one of the nights when they had Gohan over for dinner.

"You mean Mommy's assistant?"

"That's the one," Trunks confirmed. "Well, Gohan had a brother and he is in my class now. His name is Goten."

"Oh, cool!" Bulla said, her eyes sparkling. "Mommy's right, you know. You should bring him here sometimes. I bet he's loads of fun!"

Trunks smiled at her. "You know what, just for you, I'm going to ask him to come here next weekend, how's that?"

Her face lit up as though she had just received the greatest news in the world. "Yes! That's great! Can I play with him too?"

"But of course. Like I would ever ignore my Princess."

Bulla giggled at him and reached her arms out, a nonverbal sign that she craved more affection. Trunks hugged her back and she kissed him on the cheek. Then she dropped herself down from the countertop and sped off into another part of the house without saying another word.

Bulma watched her go with a sparkle of longing in her eyes. "You know, if it weren't for your dad, you'd have had at least three brothers and or sisters."

That made Trunks laugh. "Yeah, too bad Dad almost faints at the thought of having another baby. I can still remember how he was messed up for like two weeks when you told him you were having Bulla."

Bulma laughed along with him. "True, he was even muttering in his sleep about where it had all gone wrong. But still, we both know he loves her dearly."

The silence returned. Trunks found himself drifting off in thought. When a particular one soared through his head he almost sliced off a finger in his hurry to convey it to his mother.

"Say Mom, I kind of have a question," Trunks began, making sure to heed caution. "So, you know how I'm turning eighteen next month, right?"

A bemused smile was playing his mother's lips as though she knew what was coming.

"I was kind of somewhat thinking that it would be pretty cool to throw a party," he said, eyeing her carefully. "I mean, only if you and Dad agree with it, of course."

Bulma was such a tease sometimes. She acted as though she was very much lost in thought, contemplating his idea and trying to find the right holes to poke in it. Just when Trunks felt that a drumroll was in order, she beamed at him.

"Sure you can, sweetie!" she almost shouted. "I think that's a wonderful idea! And I don't care what that father of yours thinks. It's about time that he stood behind his son's decision to become a little more social. Come to think of it, it wouldn't hurt for him to do the same. You know how much of a grouch he can be sometimes."

Trunks felt relief washing over him. His mother could have named a million reasons not to let him throw a party. Their house was loaded with fragile valuables, for one. He still had parents and a little sister to consider, secondly. But she had said it was okay. Right that instant Trunks began to plan out the evening.

"I take it that you will want to have it on the twenty-eighth?" Bulma asked. "It's on a Sunday, but I can arrange for your guests to sleep over if you'd like. That way you can have your party on your actual birthday!" She seemed to be even more excited about his party than he was.

"Sounds like a plan," Trunks agreed. "Now..." he had to bring the next part tactfully. "Could we, by any chance, get some... refreshments?"

Bulma's eyebrows lowered as she turned to him. "What do you mean, 'refreshments'?"

Trunks winced. He'd expected to get a response like this. "I mean could we drink? As in drinking alcohol?"

The frown did not disappear from her face, but at least she appeared to be contemplating it. Trunks held his fingers crossed behind his back as he waited for her to reply.

"Now if I say yes," she said, holding up a finger to silence him, for he was about to burst into a fit of giddy giggles. "Can you promise me some things?"

"Like?"

"Well for one," she started, beginning to count on her fingers. "I want you to promise me that you'll take full responsibility if someone gets broken."

"Consider it done."

"Or if someone gets sick?"

"No problem."

"And if someone vomits all over my expensive carpet?"

Trunks had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course."

"Okay," Bulma said. "And finally, can you promise me, on your mother's grave, that you will not let anyone drink if their parents won't allow it?"

"Eh, sure," Trunks said, finding nothing to object against.

"Well then, I guess it's okay for you kids to have a few drinks," Bulma said. "But, you're buying it yourself. I can get you anything else, but if you want to get shitfaced you'll do it on your own wallet."

"Fair enough," Trunks agreed.

"Now hand me those unions so I can put them in with the rest."

Ten minutes later Trunks was back in his bedroom, feeling giddy for the first time in a long while. His mother had relented to his propositions much easier than he had expected her too and that only added to the feeling of joy. Already his mind was racing; who should he invite? What kind of drinks should he buy? What kind of music would he pick?

It was even a little bit exhausting, trying to come up with all of it. Good thing he still had a month to figure all of it out. With that comforting thought in the back of his mind, Trunks reactivated his controller and began to play once more.

Within minutes he was so deep in the game that the reality around him had stopped existing. Captain Underpants was working his way across the Vegetan terrain, this time not running across the plains, but rather hiding in the nook of an old and destroyed building.

The game was Search and Destroy. The objective was simple enough, namely locate the enemy superweapon and destroy it before they destroy yours. Of course there were also the Tuffles who would stand in his way, but Captain Underpants was hardly concerned about them. When it was just him he would wade through the enemies as easily as a slicing through butter. It was his companions that he worried about. He wasn't sure how apt they would be in defending their own weapon.

Captain Underpants moved away from behind the wall, coming face to face with a Tuffle the second he did so. Before the enemy could even trim his crosshair on him, he had been blown to smithereens by the grenade he did not see landing at his feet. The Captain dashed forward and went right, knowing the enemy camp to be there. Though he could not see inside it, a red bar appeared in the screen, indicating the amount of damage still to be done to the weapon of the Tuffles.

He tossed another grenade and it struck true, decimating half of the weapon's health bar in one go. He heard groans of pain also, indicating that he had managed to take some Tuffles down as well. Captain Underpants was about to round the corner when something snapped the real life player out of his focus. A little text box appeared in the bottom of his screen.

BansheeBlues is now online.

Trunks's heart skipped a beat the way it always did when that screen name flashed before him. He did not hesitate to open the message function and start typing.

Hey dude, good 2 see ya back.

BansheeBlues replied almost instantly, as was common between them.

Yeah man, sorry that I haven't been around a lot the past few days. It's been kind of busy on my end.

Ah well, those things could happen. Trunks wasn't going to act like it wasn't a bit of a disappointment to see his only online friend offline for two days in a row, but all would be forgiven the second they started to blast Tuffles to hell as a team.

No worries, I get it. School?

BansheeBlues was typing and Trunks found himself waiting with bated breath.

Among others, yes. Thank goodness it's a lot better than I expected.

Trunks sighed. Well at least there was someone in the world right now enjoying his education.

N what else? Relationship issues with ur guitar?

Hahaha, no, not at all. It's never been better, actually. No, just getting used to it all. That and my mother insists on dragging my ass through the city fourteen times a week, so I can get to know the place.

Oh wow, that explained things. BansheeBlues had already hinted before that his mother could be somewhat overbearing, but that was simply insane.

Oooh, rough. Nyway, ready to blast?

BansheeBlues was typing...

You know it. How long are you here for?

Trunks was about to tell his friend that he had the entirety of the afternoon to play, but then he remembered that he should do something else as well. He knew that there were a good six or seven slices of dry bread lying around and he was intent on snagging them along. Making up his mind, he typed a reply.

Hour, hour n a half most. Im the one busy 2day.

Great! Let's get it on! Capture the Flag?

And so another afternoon followed, full of cursing, yelling and stroking feathered behinds.

It was a grey sort of afternoon at the end of April and even though the sun did not stretch its luminous fingers across the rooftops and street corners, the temperature was high. Goten was boiling in his shirt by the time he arrived at Jasper's house, tugging at his collar and breathing hard.

"You forgot to tell me about the fifteen minute walk," he breathed, clutching the stitch in his side. He finally came to a halt by a row of houses, two squeezed together under each roof. A silver car stood sentry in the driveway that Jasper was now crossing. Goten sighed and followed.

"Oh, c'mon, it wasn't that bad." Jasper threw a look over his shoulder and cracked a grin at the sight of the flush in Goten's cheeks, of course making it a hundred times worse. Damn him and his pretty eyes. Damn him and his pretty everything. "Besides, at least it's not raining. Yet."

Goten glared up at the sky and the amassing clouds. They looked as if they might break within the hour. It made him grin; it was another excuse to phone his mom that he would be home late. She wanted to have him inside by five o'clock as always, but the clock was edging towards four already. And if he told her that he was at a friend's she was sure to let it slide. She had cooed at him for almost a week when he had told her that he hadn't had any trouble making friends.

"That's my Goten," she had said, her eyes shining at she stirred a pan of sauce absentmindedly. "I just knew that you would do great. Who can resist a handsome face like that?"

His eyes travelled to Jasper at the thought of the comment. Those minty green eyes had flashed through his mind the second his mother had let out her musings. It wasn't strange, considering how thinking of the guy tied a knot in his stomach and made him feel light as air. He had fallen for Jasper like a bag of bricks and time had only made that worse. Now, three weeks after his first week of school, Goten spent the majority of his time daydreaming about who he dubbed the 'Little Drummer Boy' in the privacy of his own thoughts. Pass the bucket, cause it's true.

Jasper's slender fingers wiggled a set of keys into the front door as Goten allowed his mind to roam. He would question himself a lot about Jasper's feelings towards him. The flirting had definitely become more frequent, he was sure of that. Goten had managed to convince Trunks to sit in the middle rows in the classrooms, where three tables stood bunched together in rows. That way he could sit next to Jasper without neglecting Trunks, although that proved harder than he at first thought possible.

Jasper would keep sliding him these little notes, questions about music or his writing or his personal life, the edges decorated with smiley faces and hearts. The first time he had seen this he had laughed out loud. When Jasper had frowned at him in confusion, he had laughed even harder before scribbling a reply.

Wow, you're really gay, aren't you?

At this, Jasper had let out a loud huff and crossed his arms, pouting. It was childish, sure enough, but Goten saw it for what it was, an attempt to make him smile even more than he already did. And when it came to making him smile, Jasper was a fucking miracle worker.

Still, flirting wasn't everything. A part of Goten was pining for something more. Not necessarily a boyfriend, but just something physical. Even though Goten had admitted his own sexuality to himself well over two years ago, he hadn't exactly gotten around to playing the field. No, as far as experience went, all he had were the two guys he had kissed in his life, and one of them had been nothing more than a smooch on the lips, brought on by a game of spin the bottle at a birthday party of a girl who lived at the foot of Mt. Paozu. Of course he had backed away immediately, acting as if he had just been forced to lick a muddy boot, but he had thought about it for weeks after that, trying to make sense of the flutter he felt in his gut whenever the image arose.

For a minute he wondered what Jasper really wanted from him. Was this flirting thing just a game to him, a tactic to use in order to win his grand prize? Surely he wouldn't mind taking things up a notch, or else he wouldn't bat his lashes like that whenever they made eye contact, nor would he let the ghost of a smile faze over his lips. But did he consider Goten to be worthy of a relationship? Or was it just that he was searching for something physical?

No, that couldn't be, Goten reasoned. If that had been the case he would've made a move a lot sooner. Goten was permanently flustered with Jasper around, and the guy was bound to have noticed it by now. And besides, hadn't Marron and Trunks told him how Jasper kept going on about wanting a 'guitarist boyfriend'? Goten was pretty sure that he could check that box on his resumé in any case.

So instead of eating himself up in doubt, Goten pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. He would see how things played out over the next few weeks before worrying himself. That shouldn't be too hard, right? All he had to do was not jump Jasper when they were in the same room, or let him see what he had been scribbling along the lines of his notebook for the past three weeks. The latter was cringeworthy, actually. The mere implication was funny enough; he was gay, yes, but he still wasn't a fourteen-year-old girl, for crying out loud. And you would think that if you saw all the swirly letters, all of them spelling the same name over and over and over again.

"You comin'?"

Goten shook his head and realized that he had been staring off into nothingness for what could have been two seconds as well as an hour, his hollow gaze lingering on an exquisite patch filled with amaryllis flowers. Jasper was standing in the doorway, jingling his keys to indicate that he had managed to unlock the door. Goten muttered a quick apology and walked in behind Jasper.

The house was much like Goten had envisioned it. The hallway had been decorated in a fashion that seemed common around the globe, with photo frames lining the walls and an open spiral staircase to the right. The door the living room was open a crack and inside Goten could see a hideous, but very comfortable looking green and white couch. At once he felt comfortable with his surroundings.

Jasper shrugged off the jacket he had been wearing and hung it up, Goten following his example. He had to put Banshee away first though, making sure that there was no way that anyone could step on her case as he slid her underneath the coat rack. When she was safe and secure, Goten scanned some of the picture frames.

"Cute even as a kid, huh?" he said, stroking his chin with his index finger, acting to think hard. "Why are some people so lucky?"

Jasper joined him by his side and followed his gaze towards a photo of himself sitting on a plastic slide, the glare of sunlight obscuring most of the scene. Even so, it was hard to ignore the tumble of curls that he was, Goten figured, undoubtedly born with. Jasper couldn't have been older than four years old in the photo, but little had changed over thirteen years. A few of the childish curves had left his face, but other than that they were like two drops of water.

"Don't flatter me," Jasper replied, doing his best to steer Goten away. "Really, who wants to look at my childhood photos all day?"

"I can," Goten replied, but he was surprised to find someone saying it along with him. He looked to his side and saw a woman, now standing in the doorway that led to the living room. She had the same eyes as Jasper.

"Hello," the woman greeted, moving towards them and extending a hand. "Jasper texted me that he would bring someone along, you must be Goten."

Goten shook her hand and nodded. "Yup, that's me."

"Well I'm Lindsey, nice to meet you!" The natural cheer in her tone was something that her son seemed to have inherited also. "Jasper has been telling me all about you. He can't shut up about to be honest. So, you're new to South City High?"

"Yeah, I just started three weeks ago," Goten answered. "It's been some getting used to, I'll admit. I guess I'm a mountain boy at heart."

Lindsey waved his comment away. "Not to worry, not worry," she said, smiling. "Now from what I understand you are a musician like my son?"

Goten nodded and broke out into a smile as well. "Uh-huh! We just came back from rehearsing with his band. Or well, my audition, I guess."

"And I can assume it went well? Like I said, Jasper won't shut his trap about how fantastic you are, so I reckon it was a breeze."

"Mom, easy," Jasper said, clearly not at ease with the bluntness of his mother.

Goten didn't exactly mind. He liked straightforward people. "Oh, yeah, no trouble there. The guys accepted me into the band before I could play half a song."

"Oh, wow, then you really must be good," Lindsey said, her mouth gaping into an oval shape. "Maybe my little Jasper isn't full of it after all."

Goten laughed. "Oh, he's full of it, alright, but I suppose I am pretty decent."

"Guys, really, I'm still here," Jasper tried to interject.

"So what are you boys up to now?" Lindsey asked. She began to dance on the balls of her feet, giving her the distinct impression of a teenage girl asking her crush what he might do over the weekend.

"Goten and I were gonna head upstairs to listen to some music," Jasper replied. "We have pretty much identical tastes in music, so I thought I'd show him my record collection."

Goten saw the corner of Lindsey's lips twitch up for a fraction of a second, as if she knew perfectly well that her son wasn't just going to show Goten some records. This raised questions with Goten once more. Did Jasper do this a lot, taking guys home with him under the pretense of listening to music? Did Lindsey know which team her son played for? And was she aware of his natural charm the way that Goten was? So far all the questions seemed to have 'yes' as their final answer.

"Right," Lindsey said, still trying hard to keep the smirk away. "Well I'll just leave you kids to your devices, I'll be making dinner. Goten, you are more than welcome to eat with us."

Goten smiled at her and nodded. "Sure thing, I'll shoot Mom a message that I won't be home for dinner and then it shouldn't be a problem."

"Great!" Lindsey clapped her hands together and beamed at him. "Dinner will be ready at six, so don't lose track of time, okay? I'm not calling for you to come downstairs, so it'll be on your own heads if your food gets cold."

And with that she left the hallway. A glance to Goten's side showed Jasper, who was looking at his shoes as if they held the secret of life itself.

"Heh, don't worry," Goten said. "Your mom is actually really cool."

"I know, I know," Jasper replied. "It's just that she's so overbearing, you know? I can't take someone home with me without having her cross examine them. She does it partly cause she's so overprotective, I think. She wants me to do good in life."

"Like there's anything wrong with that," Goten said. "My mom keeps pushing me to study as hard as I can, because she seems to be under this delusion that I would be a great scholar like my brother. We don't fight a whole lot, but when we do it's because she talks down on my dream of playing in a band." He trailed off for a second, resting a hand on Jasper's shoulder. "But as of today I am in a band and if she doesn't like it, that's her problem. I decide what I want to do with my life."

Jasper sighed. "I guess you're right. She can't help it either, it's just who she is." He exhaled again and composed himself a little better, then made a grand gesture towards the spiral staircase. "After you, m'lady," he said, grinning.

Goten rolled his eyes, stealing a glance at Banshee and making sure she was safe, before trotting up the stairs. Finding Jasper's room wasn't exactly a challenge; he reckoned it was behind the door with a giant poster of a drum kit on it.

Jasper stepped into the room first and beckoned Goten inside. Seeing the interior made Goten draw in his breath. It contained everything that he wanted, but didn't have.

A record player was perched on a side table, the needle up and waiting to decode lines in vinyl to convert them to sound. The whole left wall had been taken up with shelves, rows and rows of records hiding the wallpaper from view. A kingsize bed stood in the far corner. A drumkit was placed in the exact centre of the room, though for the time being it doubled as a laundry hamper.

"Wow," Goten found himself saying as he perused the shelves, his thumb sliding past album covers. "This is insane." He pulled a random record from between the lines and examined it. On the front was an old photo of a black man, a Gibson sitting in his lap and a bony hand curved around the neck of the instrument.

Goten nodded in appreciation. "B.B. King, fuckin' awesome!"

"Thanks," Jasper said, dropping himself down on his bed to look at Goten. "But maybe you should have a look at the shelves on the right. You'll probably find a surprise in there."

Goten arched his eyebrows and cracked a bemused smile, then did as he was told. He pulled out a record at random. Thick, red and black letters spelled the name of a band that he had trouble reading at first, but after some squinting he managed to identify it as 'Thy Art Is Murder'. The cover portrayed what appeared to be a nun praying, which tied in to the title 'Holy War'.

"Heavy metal, really?" Goten asked, finding it rather funny. "Although I suppose I could have guessed."

"Guessed how?" Jasper asked, a puzzled frown scrunching his eyebrows together.

"Like anyone who listens to blues exclusively would wear shoes like that," Goten answered, pointing on the poison green trainers on Jasper's feet.

"Ah, betrayed by the footwear," Jasper said, clacking his tongue. "If only I hadn't thrown out those ugly loafers, maybe then I could stay incognito."

"Still, why though?" Goten queried, placing the album back where he got it from. "Like, I understand that people enjoy it, but you seemed like more of a chill-out guy to me."

"I am, mostly," Jasper said from his spot on the bed. "It's just that I like the change of pace sometimes, and the time schedules for the genre are a whole lot of fun, especially once you get to the more extreme side." He began to tap his hands on his legs to add power to the statement. "It's so energetic, you know, so alive. And I'll be sitting there, just smashing my cymbals like I'm pissed off at the world, waiting for the breakdown to build up, and when it finally hits, then..." He stopped his sentence short, but began to mimic beating down one a snare and cymbal, throwing his head around in circles.

Before Goten knew it he began to laugh. He tried to hold it back, but it wasn't any use. Within seconds he was doubled over from laughing, his hand clapped to his mouth and another pressed against his contorting midriff.

Jasper shifted on the bed to sit at the edge, looking up at Goten with those puppy dog eyes that doubled as his greatest weapon. "What's so funny?" he asked, batting his lashes and pouting his lower lip. All of this made Goten laugh even harder.

"N-Nothing, it's... it's just that..." Goten managed to wheeze in between his laughter. "You were trying to look cool windmilling so bad, but your hair refused to play along. It was just... bouncing there like a pogo stick."

"And you think that that's funny?" Jasper didn't lose the pout, playing the game along perfectly.

"Hysterical, actually."

"Well you better stop laughing now," Jasper fake-threatened.

Goten lifted one eyebrow and bit his lower lip. Two could play that game. He placed one of his hands on his hip and said, in a tone as airy as he could get it to be "And what if I don't? What're you gonna do about it?"

The smirk that stretched over Jasper's gums made Goten's gut twinge. It became hollow when those green eyes grinned along as well. Outside the first drops of rain were starting to fall, pattering against the window like the ticking of a rhythmless metronome.

"Just you watch," he said. Goten was about to inquire just what that was supposed to mean, but just before he could he felt a hand snag around his wrist. Jasper gave it a rough pull and Goten lost his footing. Before he knew it he had a mattress pushing into his back. Jasper was hovering over him, their faces not even three inches apart.

Goten was at a loss for words, not to mention air. He was holding in his breath like there was no tomorrow, almost afraid that if he sucked in a lungfull just now that this dream that was playing out in front of him would burst like a bubble. All that he could see were those deep green eyes that he saw whenever he closed his own, their sparkle somewhat subdued by the red-brown hair falling over it, Goten brushed the locks aside out of reflex, not really thinking about it.

Jasper's breath on his face was warm and overpowering, robbing him of his other senses. It was as if even the clock on the wall had stopped ticking. Time was nothing but a void as he laid there, his hand on Jasper's forehead and their eyes locked.

When Jasper's fingers brushed his jawline there was no stopping it anymore. Goten raised his head as Jasper lowered his, their lips meeting halfway..

Kissing Jasper was beyond anything that Goten could've dreamed of, which he had done a lot. He was surprised by how rough and chapped his lips were, yet how softly they pressed against his own, delivering a shy peck that betrayed some nervosity. Goten's hands travelled up without his consent, one going up to rake through Jasper's hair, the other fisting his shirt.

His mind exploded with the new sensations; the taste of Jasper's kiss was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a mixture of honey and mint and something much more rough and demanding. The scent that played his nostrils was that of a fading deodorant and sweat, but it still smelled like heaven.

Jasper's hand landed on his hip and the kiss deepened, both of them growing more forceful, inhibitions falling away at the seams. Goten raised a knee up and Jasper allowed himself to fall down, no longer supporting himself on his elbows.

Tongue soon found tongue, both eager to play. Goten shuddered when Jasper sucked on his, and Jasper's lips curled into a smirk of victory. His hair was a mess now, Goten's fingers gliding through it like a kite on a windy day. His shirt was wrinkled and sweat was beginning to form on his brow. He knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well.

Eventually they did have to breathe. They came apart, the thinnest trail of saliva still connecting them. Goten's cheeks were a flaming red, he knew, but it satisfied him to no end to see that Jasper had trouble keeping his composure as well. At least he wasn't coming up short.

They said nothing for a while, nothing but their ragged breaths between them. Lindsey could be heard in the distance, singing a song while she was cooking. The pitter-patter of rain was subduing, not to stop completely but to make room for a merciless downpour.

"So, that just happened," Goten said, a faint smile spreading across his features. Slowly he uncurled his hand from Jasper's shirt, sliding a hand across it to try and work out the creases.

"Yeah, it did," Jasper said, his eyes never wavering away from Goten's. "Do you..." He hesitated. "Do you want it to happen again?"

Goten couldn't help but smirk. Then he raised his heads up once more, catching Jasper's lips in a kiss and answering without even saying a single word.