Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z in any way shape or form, nor it's characters which are featured in this fan fiction. Nor do I own the song "Smash" by The Offspring.

AN: Yea! My first every Trunks/Goten yaoi. There, you have sufficient warning. If you don't like it then bugger off. This will probably be a short saga, but I've learned the hard way that I can't write anything short, so it might be long. You'll probably prefer that anyway. Enough of my blathering. There will be angst, drunkenness, a teensy bit of drug-taking, possible OOC and this chapter is absolutely brimming with drunken teenage angst musing. Personally I don't like that stuff, so I'm a bit annoyed with myself for writing it, but I promise, it will get better. (I might even put in a bit of torture.) Anyway, on with the fic and I hope you enjoy.

Defining Morals

I was attending yet another one of mother's social functions.

Gods how I hate these people.

My father is a straightforward man. He isn't afraid of anything, especially not this group of pretentious, back-stabbing snobs. They've leant this — the hard way. My father is not one to cross, even with words. You wouldn't think it of him, but he's rather witty. When mother threatened him with, ahem, "couching" if he tried to blow any one up, he decided to use his old training from his days with Frieza to use words to maneuver, insult and threaten his way around high class society.

I'm sure Frieza was a very scary person to banter words with.

Even a bit rusty, my father's scarier. It truly is amazing to see how a single phrase can turn a formerly arrogant gentleman to a blubbering puddle of mush. Even I was astounded at how eloquently my father had phrased that insult. Mother had never liked that fellow, so she was quite smug for the rest of the night. I'm sure father received something far different to "couching" that night.

On second thought, I'd rather not know about something like that.

Head over heels I've fit in before

Now I don't want to do it no more

There was a reason I could let my mind wander and recall things like that at a time like this — I never had anything to do at these things.

They didn't like me. My so-called "peers". Technically, this is one of mother's functions, but she held it for my benefit.

I had told her it was pointless.

She refused to listen.

And so now I had to sit here, getting pleasantly drunk, while she flattered and smiled charmingly with the parents of my school "friends".

I gave up trying to be one of them a long time ago.

I've held it all in with blood on my face

Built it up man so bad you can taste

Gods, I really hated this. Why couldn't she see that? She was too busy being who she's always been I suppose. I can't fault her for that. I know for a fact that she doesn't always enjoy these sort of things. So why does she put me though it?

I never wanted this. She said that it would be for my own good. I disagreed. My father was on my side surprisingly, but when mother makes her mind up, she brooks no arguments.

So instead of waiting a year before entering high school and enrolling in the public system like I had wanted, I was sent here. Snob Central.

For two years I've put up with them and now I was too sick of it to care what they thought. They were worse than their parents.

I had to chuckle before taking another sip of a rater nice vintage of wine. If only they knew the truth about me.

I don't slag no one

I don't even judge

Don't give a shit 'cause I'm not gonna budge

I could see my father look at me from across the room.

He looked sympathetic, to me at least. I don't think many others would be able to discern any emotions my father showed. He knew I hadn't wanted this. I don't think he really wanted this either, but my mother ruled the house, not him. Even he's not stupid enough to cross my mother when she wants something. I'm sure he would have come over and sat with me, laughing and making fun of various people in the room. Together we would have endured the situation better than we were now. But mother had a tight grasp on him, knowing she probably couldn't trust him alone.

No reason why she should.

Last time we came to one of these things, mother left him alone for a few minutes, at most, and he spiked the drinks with one of his own brews of something. Needless to say the party ended rather quickly after that. Who would have thought it? My father, a practical joker. Yes, even he has a sense of humour. One would definitely need one at these sort of things.

I could feel him watching me for a bit, concerned, before he turned back. I smiled. He does care, he doesn't show it often or well, but he does care. I'm glad for that. Without his silent support I'm not sure I could get through all this.

I don't fit in with them. I'm not one of them. I refuse to be. I have more pride in myself and my honour than they do. Perhaps it's something my father drilled into me, but I have a lot of self-respect and a high standard of morality.

What I see in them, the so-called higher class, sickens me.

I just want to be who I want to be

Guess that's hard for others to see

I'm not sure if my mother sees it. What they really are. I'd like to think so, but I can't keep deluding myself. She was brought up into this, she's had to deal with the deceptions and the fakes, the back-stabbing and the pretensions all her life. Even my father had lived through this, though he came out of it stronger and not willing to take any of the crap that it posed.

I wish I were that strong.

I would love to break away.

I would love to get free of the dark and the deception, like I was able to when I was younger. My mother thought she was doing me good. I hate to say it, but this was one of the biggest mistakes of her life. I can't stand to be what she wants me to be, I love her to pieces, but I will not betray myself just for an undeserved reputation.

I'm not a trendy asshole

I do what I want

I do what I feel like

My father's reputation is another thing.

He earned his way to that reputation. He wasn't born into it. He didn't get it through flatteries and deceit. He earned it through blood and honour and sacrifice.

Mother did too.

But what these people shower on her isn't respect, it's scorn and flattery. They've got their own reasons for sucking up. And I hate it. My mother deserves more respect than that. My father knows this too. The reason my mother had to threaten him at all is because the first time father ever came to one of these things, some big-shot tried to suck-up to him to get in mother's good graces. Father saw right through him and therefore sent him right through a wall.

See, fighters have their own forms of conduct and respect. If you don't like someone, or don't really respect them, you punch them and see what happens. It's straight forward and to the point. No pussyfooting around because you're afraid of what they might say to you.

Hell, insults are what people respect most in a fight. I know father enjoys a good verbal spar while he's fighting. You get more respect being straight forward as a fighter than as one who deceives and hides.

Myself, I enjoy that also. I can't stand girls who flatter and flirt or boys who brag and embellish.

If I tried that, father would send me though a wall.

He likes doing that I've noticed.

I'm not a trendy asshole

Don't give a fuck if it's good enough for you

'Cause I am alive

I sigh.

I've run out of wine.

Looking up I notice that the bar is crowded with my school peers.

A groan escapes me.

I have to get up and walk over there if I want more mind-numbing depressants. Tell me why again I agreed to this?

"Because your mother thinks it will be good for you. You don't socialise enough according to her."

I look up and there stands the primary older male figure in my life. Did I tell you how much I idolised my father while growing up? I love him even more now as he sits down beside me and offers me a drink.

Smash is the way you feel all alone

Like an outcast you're out on your own

Did I also mention how much I love his home brew? It's a Saiyan recipe he rediscovered a while ago on a trip to Hell to see his father. This is the strongest drink imaginable. It puts a human under a table in three seconds flat. A Saiyan takes a lot longer to get drunk.

As could be discerned by the many empty bottles of vintage wine scattered on the table.

"So," I ask conversationally, "what brings you all the way over here to my side of the room?" I take a drink and sigh in pleasure and the lovely taste and the delicious feeling of warmth slowly coursing through my body.

"A father can't spend time with his son?"

I merely raise an eyebrow.

"Fine, your mother sent me. I would have come over before of my own accord, but she was bring too clingy."

"Right." Another sip. I was already slightly drunk, so this was affecting me a bit more than it normally would. Add to that my not eating at all today (a rather strange phenomenon for a Saiyan) and the fact that I'm only a half-Saiyan (so I lied a bit earlier), we will soon have on our hands a very sloshed eighteen year old.

"She wants to know what your problem is."

"I don't have a problem." Great, it was going to be one of those talks.

My father just gave me "the look". I squirmed and decided to spill. "I'm sure you probably already picked this up, but I'll tell you for mother's benefit. I don't like these people and I don't care what they think of me, nor do I have a problem with showing it. I don't fit in and I don't want to. This isn't who I want to be and I refuse to be someone I'm not — even for her."

Smash is the way you deal with your life

Like an outcast you're smashing your strife

"What about for me?"

"Not even for you." Damn, what did he put in this stuff? I was never normally this talkative, even if I was drunk. I have too many secrets to keep — like my Saiyan heritage — to let my guard down enough even when I was pissed.

Father already knew this.

I glared at him and he smiled knowingly — well, it was a smirk I suppose. "You noticed my addition to the brew."

"Is it in yours too?"

"Do you really think I'm that stupid boy?" He smirked again. "Besides, would you really want me blurting out all my thoughts to you right now? Especially considering you're not going to be home tonight."

I shuddered. That was too much information. "Dad, please, just let me enjoy my drugged alcoholic beverage. I'm in need of a depressant right now."

"That's another side effect of the drug. It counteracts the depressive nature of the alcohol."

"Which means …?"

"You're smart, you figure it out." Great, not only does it make me tell him everything he wants to know, soon I'll be bouncing off the walls rather than moping silently in a corner like I felt like doing. Why did I have to get stuck with the intelligent devious father?

And why did he have to finally develop such a sadistic sense of humour? I know he's laughing at me on the inside. I can tell by that smile. He's evil, I swear. Everyone knows it, they're just deceived by that innocent appearing face.

… I think I'm already smashed.

Head over heels I've fit in before

Now I don't want to do it no more

Just because I'll be giggling and energetic later doesn't mean that the depressive effect of the alcohol I've already consumed hasn't kicked in yet. I've still got a bit of time for depression before I get too hyperactive to talk normally.

I turn to look at him and I see the shock in his eyes when he sees the tears. "Dad, I know you'll think I'm weak, but I can't handle it any more. I'm too different from them and I don't fit in — I don't want to fit in. She refuses to see that."

"Then why do you care so much? Don't deny that you do. If you've known for a while that you don't like this type of life then why do you persist with it? Even your mother couldn't stop you if you wanted something different." It's amazing how much he's changed. Sure that didn't sound like the most comforting thing to say to someone in my position, but was my father after all. To get any sort of sympathy is a miracle worth cherishing for the rest of your life.

"I care because she does. Gods, she tries so hard and it doesn't work, but I'm not like them and I refuse to debase myself and become one of them."

He took a swig of his own drink before answering. "You've got too much of me in you boy."

"That's not a bad thing. You have moral and ethical standards. These … people would stoop to any level to get what they wanted. And they would stoop further to get revenge or drag someone down."

"You forget I was once a murderer. Do you feel the same about me?"

"They can't compare to you. It tore you apart being like that, being controlled, having to sink to that level. Guilt isn't something they feel. What's worse is that they can't be punished for it, because ethics and morals aren't laws. I can't stand humans."

He got angry at that statement. "Don't insult your mother's people, or your own for that matter. You're still half-human whether you like it or not. You know darn well that these people are only a small percentage of humans as a whole."

"But they represent everything that humans are soon to become. Doesn't it sicken you to be around them?"

"Not as much as you. Unfortunately, you get used to the taint after a while." He took another drink and sighed. "Boy, you're still growing up, you're trying to find your place when someone like you is an anomaly and can't fit in. You're mother's only trying to do what's best for you."

"I know."

I just want to be who I want to be

Guess that's hard for others to see

We sat there drinking for a bit longer until the drugs finally kicked in and my father had to physically restrain me from literally bouncing off the walls.

Later as the amphetamines wore off a bit and I made my way to the hotel where I'd be staying for the night, (as my parents had rather brusquely informed me yesterday they would be kicking me out for the night), I thought over all I'd said and mused earlier.

And I felt as bad as I did before.

I'd still hid something from my father.

Even with the drugs affecting me, I still managed to hide something from him.

And gods, I was ashamed of it.

I was scared of them, not what they thought of me, but of what they could do if they found out my biggest secret.

And I'm not talking about the fact that I'm half-alien or can turn my hair gold and my eyes turquoise or do a silly dance with another guy and become one person.

This is completely different.

See, because there is one person who's opinion I do care about.

It's not my father.

It's not my mother.

He's closer to me than anyone else in the world. Closer than family.

And if they found out what I'd kept hidden from everyone then they could tear him away from me.

And I couldn't live with that.

All I wanted was to be who I wanted to be without any kind of repercussions.

But I guess that isn't possible for someone like me.

So lived in fear of what they could do to me if they found out. So I stayed out of their way, tried not to upset them too much and tried as hard as I could to keep my mouth shut, ignoring what I saw and how disgusted I felt because of it. And I was ashamed of how I acted, but I would continued doing it, because there was always the chance that one of them could find out and tell the world that I was gay.

I wasn't ashamed of that fact.

I didn't care what the world thought.

I cared what my best-friend thought.

I cared what my best-friend, whom I loved with all my heart, would think of me if he ever found out that I was not only gay, but in love with him and had kept it from him.

I cared if he would hate me because of it.

Because Goten was the centre of my world and the only reason I put up with everything in it. And I would not be able live if they took him away from me.