I was awake the first time you touched me.

You were driving me home, like you sometimes do when we don't feel like flying, me dozing in the backseat while you sport the rebel motif and take the engine to the limit.  It was funny the first time you got pulled over though.

I felt when you stopped, and knew were home, well, where I sleep when I'm not at Capsule Corp anyway.  I didn't get up though, because I knew you would look in the rear view mirror at me for a few seconds like you always do, sigh, then come around and open my door for me.  Sometimes you'd carry me inside, other times you'd wake me up and make me walk.

I know you drove a long way for me.  I know you're nearly as tired as I am, from these late night parties we flit and fly to.  But I still like making you work the extra mile, still like the extra bit of attention and affection you give to me and only me.  And only you do that for me.  Gohan is too busy now.

You've opened the door now, and I know you're debating whether to shake me awake and yell in that voice I swear is Vegeta telling me to get me free loading ass off his couch, or swear at me in those Saiyan curses  you picked up from him and pick me up and carry me inside.

I thought that was what you were doing anyway.  But you weren't.

I sort've floated on consciousness, like a volley ball on a heated pool on the gray upholstery that smelled like your aftershave. 

And waited for you to make up your mind.

Make up my destiny, the way you always do.  To be, or not to be.  To pour soda down the girl's shirts or to let the lab mice into the cafeteria, because the food sucks anyway. 

Decide what happens to us Trunks.

You took your time.

I was awake when your fingers touched my skin, Trunks.  And I mean touched.  Not just that our flesh came in contact, like during sparring or school or just fooling around. 

I mean you touched me.  Like you meant something.

I could feel it, in the meticulousness, the tenderness.  The way you lightly brushed back my bangs and curved your finger pads slowly, deliberately, over my cheek.  Stopping just before you reached my mouth. 

I felt your hand snap away.

I couldn't see it, but I could feel it in the brief yet drastic drop in temperature and ki your body fluxed, in the slight intake of your breath.  In how cold my skin felt afterwards.

You stared at me for a while after that, not moving from your vigil and punishment beside the car door.

I can hear you breathing faster, then a snort and mutter as you grip my shoulders roughly and haul me out, throwing me into the air and in your arms before I hit the ground.  Sometimes you still treat me like a chibi.

I'm to be carried, then?

Make your decision Trunks.

And make my destiny.