"Dende, Trunks..."

"Don't say it."

"I think you've killed it." Goten eyed the mangled object with a certain amount of open skepticism. "You think it's still edible?"

"Shut UP, baka. Of course it's still edible. It's just a little...sick." The Son leaned back in his chair as his best friend gestured widely with the silver stained crimson implement of kitchen destruction. Images of third-rate horror flicks flashed through his mind as his arched an ebony brow.

"Yeah...sick like Hannibal Lecter was sick." The demi-Saiyan couldn't help the laughter as his pale haired counterpart suddenly smirked, teeth flashing pearly white against the flattering scarlet of his lips. Heh, pretty boy...always looked like he was wearing a touch of makeup...Goten couldn't help but think it suited him somehow.

"Clarisse..." The younger man giggled helplessly as Trunks sucked the air in between his teeth, mimicking the infamously creepy noise with a certain flair of amateur enthusiasm. Shaking his head, he struggled with the familiar need to draw breath that always came when he was around the lavender prince. Blinking open shimmering eyes of tearful mirth, Goten's laughter immediately calmed as the other man ran his pink tongue tip over the flat of the cutting knife in a way that the older man must have surely thought disturbing.

And it was. For all the wrong reasons.

Clearing his throat, the younger teen settled back in his chair, dutifully memorizing the myriad of scratches and niches made through countless kitchen escapades exactly like this one that adorned the wooden table.

Trunks studied the blushing man with open curiosity as he brought the utensil down from his lips, resting the tip amidst the dilapidated ruins of what once was a perfect doughy circle.

"Hey, you want some of this or what? Don't tell me I slaved over a stove so you could sit there and criticize the shape of the damn thing. Food's food, ne, Son?"

"Slaved, eh? So that's what princes are good for..." The darker demi-Saiyan easily dodged the playful blow, hand lashing out to tickle under the exposed arm that reached for him. Trunks released the knife with a yelp, the metallic chime of ridged silver against the tile punctuating the other's amusement. With a glare that promised retributions, the pale prince knelt down to where the knife had fallen by Goten's feet. A heady chuckle rang around his ears through the silken curtain of hair that swung out of its confinement and he glanced up from his compromised position.

"Heh. Finally on your knees where you belong." One crystal blue eye slid slowly to the side, eyeing the hand on the back of his neck that kept him firmly pressed into the smoothness of the floor. Goten was utterly stupefied when the turning of his counterpart's head didn't signify the bite he had expected, nor the verbal barrage that was playful commonplace between them. He shuddered, onyx eyes widening to the size of depthless black holes as his best friend's mouth parted seductively, tongue slipping out to lap in kittenish quality at the sensitive inside of his wrist.

"T-t-t-t-t-t..." the darker demi-Saiyan clamped his mouth shut with a resounding clap, silencing the embarrassing bout of stuttering with a snap of finality. The other man grinned like a feline, pushing his head up out of the loosening captivity made by the other's now limp hand.

"You wanted me on my knees," Trunks purred, pushing between the clothed legs of his breathless, disbelieving friend. "Wonder why..." Broad, skilled hands that had been manipulating the intricacies of machines since he was old enough to walk glided upward along the hard muscles of Goten's thighs to settle near his hips.

"T-t-t-t--" Shaking his head with a frustrated growl, the younger boy put his hands flat on those of his other half, stilling his ascension of Goten's lower half. "W-w-wait!"

"Why?" The prince challenged roughly, raising himself to his knees, head tilted back to lock onto the slack jawed visage above him.

The warm exhale taunted his parched lips, tongue snaking outward to moisten them even as he leaned downward to meet the teenage sex idol that lay unmoving and inviting between his thighs.

"Why the hell does everything smell burnt in here?" In the time it took for Goten's eyes to snap into focus, Trunks had already spun to his feet with the unequivocal grace of a ballet dancer.

"Gomen, Papa," the lighter prince remarked casually, tossing the knife in his hand toward the sink where it landed with a clash and clatter against the dirty china within. "Cooking went a little...awry."

Vegeta snorted, glancing downward at the crispy mess that lay distorted and ravaged, dismissing them both with a derisive jerk of his head. "Only my son could fuck up a pizza," he muttered, turning in the direction of the refrigerator to plunder and pillage the bright white treasure trove of delicacies that lay within. Setting his trappings on the table with reckless abandon, the darker prince glared in annoyance at the silent Son.

"Why the hell is your whole family here, boy? Don't you have a place to live?" The Saiyan opened a jar of peanut butter with curt irritation. "I come home from training to find my whole damn house crawling with Sons. It's like a fucking infestation..."

"G-gomen nasai, Vegeta-san," Goten piped up, dragging his disobedient voice back from the dark reaches of space that it had been exiled to with the sudden promise of his first kiss. "There was an...accident at the house..." the younger demi-Saiyan trailed off with as infusion of red crept along his collar.

"Accident?" Vegeta quirked a brow, pausing in his slathering of thick gooey jam.

"Hai." Trunks gave a nod of affirmation, saving Goten from having to speak further to his intimidating parent. "Mama said they could stay here."

The Saiyan no Ouji shook his raven head, slapping the top piece of bread onto the sandwich and placing it onto the growing pile beside him. "What, someone finally make the mistake of letting that third class baka cook for himself?"

Goten paled, attempting to sink further into his chair. Dende, it amazed him how perceptive the man could be. Even when he wasn't trying.

"Mac 'n cheese is harder to make than you think..." he mumbled, picking at the charred crust of the food in front of him. The irony of the Saiyan situation was not lost on him. He had yet to meet anyone who ate as much as his family that lacked so thoroughly in the area of culinary expertise.

"Hey, Go-chan," The demi-Saiyan heard the elder Saiyan grunt at the affectionate title and he turned a desperate gaze to his lavender counterpart. "Whadaya say we toss this and go get some real food?" Trunks flashed him that irresistible smile and he found himself nodding in agreement before he had even the time to process the invitation. "My treat." Sliding out of his seat, Goten watched as his best friend disposed of the botched results of attempting to feed themselves. Some things just weren't meant to be.

Following the older teen past his stoic father, the Son had almost thought the incident avoided. He should have known better than to underestimate Vegeta. That's how you ended up dead. Or humiliated beyond belief. It was his firm belief that one lead to the other.

"Hn. You should start learning to complete the things you start, boy...No wonder everything you do gets burnt. You're always distracted."