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Gohan sits up at his bed as quick as a bullet, rouses from his slumber as easily as breathing. Here are the facts: he was asleep, and now he isn’t. All in one precise motion that doesn’t wake his wife in the slightest, who is still snoring into her pillow at his side. Gohan guesses your body never forgets the graceful fluidity that comes with having inhuman martial arts ingrained into you from your days as a toddling child—that sixth sense never leaves you. Which is evident in the way he can feel his little brother’s ki blazing out in the skies and hurtling in the direction of his house, like it’s burning inside his own body. Gohan just hopes their mother doesn’t know he’s out this late.
“He’s hurt,” Gohan mumbles under his breath, sweeping his eyes over Videl briefly once more to make sure she’s still asleep before he slips out from beneath the blanket. He gropes for his glasses on his bedside table and he’s pretty sure he puts them on lopsided, but he can’t really bring himself to care as he walks and walks out of his bedroom, down the winding halls, the spiraling staircase, never flicking any of the light switches on. He has the house’s layout memorized backwards and upside down, despite how small he’d felt when he first moved in. (It’s not something he likes to admit, but he sometimes finds himself missing his humble mountain home. Not that he’d ever tell Videl that.)
Gohan does turn the kitchen lights on, though. He leans against the granite countertop and tracks Goten’s ki, counts the seconds until his arrival. One, two…
There’s a knock on the window. And Gohan is briefly glad neither his wife or daughter are awake at the moment, because Goten looks horror movie ready, with all the blood and cuts and bruises he’s donning like accessories. Gohan furrows his brow and motions for him to come in with a hand, growing more worried by the minute. Goten just sort of lingers, as if he’s a stray cat of some sort, holding Gohan’s gaze like he’s trying to see which one of them will look away first. He’s nineteen and Gohan thinks he’s never looked more like a baby than he does now.
It feels like an eternity before Goten finally dislodges the top notch security heightened hatch with a careless jerk of his wrist and lets himself in. Gohan snorts at the way he slips his sneakers off before his feet touch the floor, hanging them both from two hooked fingers. If fighting courses strong through Son family blood, then so do good manners.
“Hey.” Goten runs a hand through his hair. A single twig falls out. “Sorry I’m getting your kitchen dirty. I didn’t wanna come through the bedroom window just in case of, well, you know.”
Gohan cracks a smile. “Thanks for your subtlety.”
Goten waves a hand. “And Pan’s room was off limits, too, because, holy shit, she’d scream her tiny head off if she saw me right now,” he rambles, rolling his shoulders. “And those are, like, all the windows I actually know in this big ass place, so. Kitchen was the only option. Can I crash on your couch?” He fires it off all at once, point form concise. Gohan’s not buying any of it for a second.
“I don’t see why not,” Gohan says evenly, eyeing him critically. Goten’s not roughed up lethally, by any means; he’s just dripping blood from his nose and mouth and knuckles, and his shallow, nonthreatening wounds suggest light ki usage. Child’s play. Gohan’s still concerned. “Trunks?”
Goten grimaces. Odd reaction to have to that name in particular. Goten’s always over the moon when it comes to Trunks. “Yeah.”
“Mm.” Gohan is definitely planning on interrogating him. After he cleans him up, of course. All of these open wounds are going to get infected if they’re just left exposed, although that’s hardly a concern for half Saiyan spitfires like themselves. Nonetheless, Gohan’s always been the doting type. “I’m grabbing my first aid kit. Give me your shoes, too.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Goten says, but Gohan’s already snatching his sneakers and stalking off.
“Doctor’s orders.”
Goten flops onto one of the barstools at the countertop. “You’re not a doctor.”
“It’s on my PHD, Goten,” Gohan retorts, walking back into the light with his first aid kit in tow.
Goten’s eyes narrow. “Not that kind of doctor.”
“Stop arguing,” Gohan snaps, setting the box down on the counter and raking his fingers through Goten’s shaggy, blood-matted bangs, pushing them back so he can get to wiping down the cut on his forehead. “Did you have a fight with Trunks?”
“No,” Goten answers, and from the way he holds Gohan’s stare, it’s really true. Probably. The kid had learned a lot about the art of lying during his first year away at university, but he’d also learned that all of those tricks were rendered useless before Gohan. “I mean. We sparred, yeah, but we’re fine.”
“At two in the morning.” Gohan arches a brow as he presses the alcohol wipe to the cut, holding Goten’s head in place when he hisses and flinches.
“Yeah, we do that all the time. I just sneak out,” Goten explains. Gohan pinches his cheek. His strength plus the gashes on Goten’s face must make it hurt more than the gentle chastising amount he was initially going for, and he yips with the pain. “Ow!”
“Mom knows about this?” Gohan questions, releasing him and moving to grab another alcohol wipe.
“Obviously not,” Goten scoffs. Then he looks pleading, puppy dog eyes and all. “Don’t tell her, Gohan.”
Gohan rolls his eyes. “If she finds out, you’re on your own.”
They sit there like that for a while in silence. Goten’s gaze is downcast as Gohan cleans every single one of the cuts on his face. He blinks when Gohan slinks a hair tie off of his wrist and ties back the front hash of his bangs so they don’t get dirty, dried blood back inside the freshly pristine gashes.
“Where’d you get that?” Goten goes cross eyed trying to look at the ridiculous mini ponytail that’s sticking up on top of his head. Gohan considers making a dash for his phone so he can take a picture, but he isn’t that mean.
“It’s Videl’s,” Gohan hums, lifting a tissue out of the box and holding it over Goten’s nose. “Blow.”
Goten blows. Blood spritzes over the tissue’s white surface, and Gohan gives his nose one last tug as he wipes it all away, pulls his hand back and chucks the tissue in the garbage. He takes one of Goten’s placid wrists in his hand so his arm is extended forward, swiping the wipe across a cut on Goten’s bicep when he asks, “So what is all this really about?”
Goten’s hand tenses where it’s collapsed in Gohan’s lap. “Nothing. I just didn’t want to go home.”
“Spare me the excuses,” Gohan sighs, wiping a bit of crusted blood off of Goten’s elbow. “Oh, that one’s definitely going to scab up. Don’t pick at it.”
“No promises.” Goten fidgets. “There’s really nothing.”
Gohan shrugs. “I won’t force it out of you.” Meaning he will, but he’ll have to go for the passive approach.
Goten chews on his lip. “Dad came home today.”
… Ah.
Gohan meets his eyes. “Did he?” He already knew that. Everytime Goku is home, he reaches out and nudges Gohan’s ki with his own. It’s his way of saying Hey, just checking in, I love you, and sometimes, Gohan will nudge back. Today, early in the morning and awake two hours before his alarm went off, he did.
“Yeah,” Goten confirms. His expression is full of something Gohan can’t quite place. “He’s never home, you know.”
Gohan exhales through his nose. “I know.” It really is just how it is. Their father has things to attend to that far surpass the duties of any normal Earth father. Son Goku is a man larger than life with otherworldly attachments, a phantom hero that had loomed over the first seven years of Goten’s life, a father who you could hate and love with all of your heart simultaneously. Gohan’s just grown used to the father-shaped cavity in his chest over the years. Maybe Goten hasn’t, yet. Or perhaps he never will.
Goten cracks his neck. “I didn’t really want to see his face. Knew he’d wake up as soon as I got back.”
He would.
“I see.” Gohan flips Goten’s hand over so it’s palm-up. “Is that why you stayed out so late?”
“He’s just—always leaving,” Goten says in lieu of a response to Gohan’s query, which means the answer is indubitably yes. “And. I don’t know, it pisses me off when he comes back and just acts like nothing’s changed. Like no time has passed.”
Gohan’s not sure where this is going. But he does understand, all too well. Sometimes it feels as though he’s left his timeless, ageless father behind. “I get that.” He traces a line down Goten’s palm. “Do you want to borrow pyjamas?”
“Yes,” Goten says instantaneously.
They let everything fester in the quiet air between them, like the open wounds littering every inch of Goten’s skin.
“A lot has changed since the last time he was here.” Goten’s voice is so small Gohan has to strain to hear it. “Changed with me, I mean.”
Gohan’s working on his other arm, now. He gives his wrist a soft squeeze. “Goten.”
Goten’s still talking. “Like, I mean a lot. And—and I’ve been hiding it from you, too, Gohan, but I just— I can’t, anymore—”
“Goten.” Gohan’s holding his hand, now. Goten’s head darts up so abruptly Gohan’s pretty sure he might have given himself whiplash. Those huge eyes are shiny with tears, and Gohan thinks he feels his heart break. “Talk to me, kiddo.”
Goten won’t look at him. “You’ll hate me.”
“You know I never could,” Gohan disagrees, rubbing patterns into his thumb. “You could kill somebody and I’d hide the body for you.”
“Yeah, okay,” Goten laughs, and it comes out watery. “You’re too much of a goody two shoes for that.”
“You’re right.” Gohan has both of his hands, now. “I’d probably just help you find the Dragon Balls so we could wish them back and then I’d take your secret to my grave. But you get my point.”
Goten shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut. He looks a lot like how he did when he was still in diapers, sitting frustrated in a corner and crying his little lungs out until Gohan came to his rescue and swooped him into his arms. (In those earlier days, days Goten can’t remember, sometimes their mother would just lie in bed all day like a corpse. And Gohan would let her. Of course he would. He could see why, after all.)
“You really will hate me,” Goten insists, trembling like a leaf. “And I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t know what I’d do if you hated me, Gohan.”
“And I keep telling you that’s not going to happen,” Gohan assures him, even if there’s a pit of dread growing steadily in his stomach. He’s admittedly afraid of whatever’s got Goten, fearless little Goten, this shaken up. Afraid? No. Angry, maybe. He wants to find the source of his brother’s fear and kill it. Lay its body at Goten’s feet and tell him he has nothing to be scared of. Gohan runs a thumb over Goten’s knuckles. “Come on.”
Goten takes a shaky breath. “You can’t tell mom or dad.”
Gohan purses his lips. “Did you do something bad?” he asks gently, and Goten’s bottom lip quivers again.
“I don’t think so,” he whispers. Gohan squeezes his hands again.
“Did.” He clears his throat. “Did somebody do something bad to you?”
He prays the answer is no. But Goten isn’t saying anything. He’s just holding onto Gohan like he never wants to let go, and Gohan can feel the rage building up inside him, white hot and blinding.
“Goten,” he seethes, leaning in. “Goten, tell me who, I’ll take care of it—”
“It’s not like that!” Goten exclaims, and then he shrinks back into himself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But I promise it’s nothing like that, Gohan.”
“Then what is it?” Gohan feels like he’s begging, at this point. “I won’t tell our parents. So just tell me.”
Goten yanks his hands out of Gohan’s and buries his face in them. He speaks into his palms, words muffled and indecipherable.
“What was that?” Gohan inclines his head. “Goten.”
All at once, Goten slaps himself in the face on either cheek. Gohan just stares at him. Goten is extremely serious when he addresses him again, taking Gohan by the shoulders and pulling him in.
“Gohan.” Goten looks as though he’s about to tell him their whole family died.
Gohan blinks. “Yeah?”
“I’m gay.”
Oh?
Oh.
“Okay?” Gohan says. This all feels a little anticlimactic.
“Trunks is my boyfriend,” Goten says gravely, like he’s delivering news of some solemn tragedy, and it’s such a challenge not to laugh right in his face. Like, so extremely hard. Gohan doesn’t think he’ll last much longer.
“Naturally,” he replies, smirking. Which is true. Goten and Trunks getting together seems as simple as butter on bread. They’ve been running circles around each other since they were children. Gohan supposes it was only a matter of time.
Goten is staring at him like he’s grown another head. “You’re not pissed?”
Gohan tilts his head. “Why would I be pissed?”
“I don’t know, I just thought, like,” Goten starts, fumbling for words, “maybe you’d tell me it’s wrong, and that being with a guy isn’t right, and, and, mom’s always talking about meeting a nice girl and stuff, figured she wanted me to end up like you—”
“Goten.” Gohan’s cupping the side of his face. “I ended up just fine. But you don’t have to be me.”
Goten practically melts into Gohan’s touch. Poor kid must be exhausted. “I always wanted to be. When I was a kid. Maybe I still do.”
The admission makes Gohan’s chest feel all warm and fuzzy. He’d pull Goten into a hug if he wasn’t still engulfed in the general muck and grime you attain when you’ve been rolling around in the mud with your fellow half alien boyfriend for hours. “We’re too different for that.” He pats Goten’s cheek. “But that’s okay, all the same.”
“Yeah,” Goten sniffles. “Okay, yeah.” He peeks up at Gohan again. “So you really aren’t mad?”
“No, oh my goodness,” Gohan chuckles, dropping his hand so it curves loosely over the side of Goten’s neck. “I don’t care about that. I think I even expected it.”
Goten’s jaw drops. “Wow. Are you calling me gay?”
“You just told me you’re gay, so yes.” Gohan levels him an amused look. “And the two of you have been all over each other since you were babies.” Gohan snickers at the offended expression on his brother’s face. “Forgive me if I’m not surprised.”
“Ugh, whatever,” Goten mutters, red flooding his cheeks. “Just… don’t tell mom and dad, please.”
Gohan’s brow creases. “You know they’ll accept you. Dad won’t care as long as you’re with someone who treats you right. And mom is just happy as long as you marry rich. I already took care of her request for grandchildren, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
Goten laughs quietly. “Still.” He shifts his gaze to the soiled alcohol swabs piled together on the counter. “I want to be the one to tell them. And I’m not exactly ready, yet.”
Well, that’s only fair. And he’s already told Gohan all about what was eating at him, so that’s more than enough. Gohan hums, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Okay, it’s up to you.” He presses a quick kiss to Goten’s forehead. “You had me worried sick, you know. Here I thought you were going to tell me you accidentally blew up Dende’s Lookout, or something.” And there were about twenty other possibilities running through Gohan’s overworked, overthinking brain, each one horrifying in different aspects, but he isn’t going to tell him that.
Goten’s eyes are full of mirth. “Would you have covered for me if I did blow up the Lookout?”
“Probably.” The affirmation comes without even a beat of consideration. It’s just common sense. Gohan stands up. “Hit the showers. I’ll leave a pair of clean clothes out for you.”
Goten bounces to his feet. “And then I can sleep on your couch?”
He really doesn’t want to go home tonight, it seems. Gohan doesn’t have it in his heart to kick him out. He smiles when Goten rounds his side. “You can sleep in one of the guest bedrooms. On a bed.”
“Oh.” Goten looks down. His jeans are rolled up his calves so they don’t trail across the tiled floor. “I’m really okay with the couch…”
“Don’t argue,” Gohan says firmly. “Shower. And then bed. Now.”
“Yes, mom,” Goten snarks, wandering off to obey Gohan’s orders anyway. Gohan retrieves a pair of spare pyjamas from his room after confirming that Videl had somehow slept through all of that and then treads back to the bathroom, hangs them from the rack inside just as Goten takes his shirt off at the door. Gohan gives him a once over and finds he can hardly differentiate between the bruises and the hickeys. He snorts. Goten’s face flares with a furious flush.
“Shut it!”
“I didn’t say a thing.” Gohan claps him on the shoulder as he waltzes by. “I’ll wait up for you so I can tuck you in.” It’s really so Goten can follow his ki to the correct room, because Gohan knows he still gets lost inside this house no matter how much it’s practically like his second home, and he probably always will. But he’s not about to bring that up now.
Goten squints. “I’m not five.”
“Just let me do it for you. Nobody’s around to see you drop the macho act,” Gohan says, and from the way Goten’s shoulders deflate with relief, he’s assuming he’s succeeded. “Take your time.”
He’s sitting on the guest bed when Goten walks in around twenty five minutes later. Gohan’s clothes drown him just a little—Goten’s height still falls short of Gohan’s by a couple inches, and his build is a touch leaner as well. Gohan wrangles him into the bed like he’s a kid who’s stayed up all night playing video games again, drawing the blanket all the way up to his chin for good measure.
“Gee, thanks,” Goten says dryly, even though there’s a bashful smile budding at the corners of his lips.
Gohan beams down at him. “You’re very welcome.” He gives Goten one last tap on the chest before straightening up again. “Well, goodnight.”
“Gohan.”
Gohan halts in his tracks. “Yes?”
Goten pulls the edge of the blanket up over his mouth. “Thanks for today.” And then he ducks his entire head beneath it. “And don’t tell dad any of what I said about him, please.”
Gohan casts him a pressed smile over his shoulder. “I won’t. I wasn’t going to, anyway.”
Goten is quiet. Then, “Okay, goodnight.” Another moment of nothing. Finally, “I love you.”
He really will always be a little boy in Gohan’s eyes, Gohan thinks. He’s just about to flick the switch off as he says, “I love you too, Goten.”
And when he’s back in his bed, feels Videl embrace him in her sleep, he falls back into that dreamless rest within seconds. Gohan finds Goten is gone in the morning. Well, at least he’d made the bed. Gohan laughs to himself as he smooths out the wrinkles in the cotton pillow case.