Briefs Family To Do List
Note: This is set in the same universe as "My Family by Briefs Trunks", hence why I'm putting it as a second chapter, but it's more of a stand alone than a continuation.
Please see the previous chapter for notes and warnings. This should not be taken seriously AT ALL.
All comments and criticism appreciated. Thanks for checking this out!
1) Wake up and start the day
Pale sunlight shone through the half-covered window, slowly rousing Mirai Trunks from his slumber. He turned over, away from its evil glow, and nestled deeper into the snuggly warmth that surrounded him. He didn't like mornings. They were best spent sleeping. Or, if you simply had to be awake, doing something acrobatic with the right partner. After several minutes of trying to return to his former state of oblivion, Trunks gave up and began probing into the tangle of blankets.
Firm, satiny skin soon met his seeking hand and he grinned sleepily into the pillow. He wiggled closer to his bedmate, pressing himself into that delightfully warm body and nuzzling a fragrant neck. Gohan murmured indistinctly at the attention.
"Hmm?" Trunks said playful, cuddling even further into his lover and wrapping his arms around Gohan's broad chest. His fingers traced over rippling muscles, playing lightly with the pale hairs that graced his lover's arms. A slow heat rose through his body, fueled by daydreams of all the ways they could spend their day. In bed, of course. Who needs classes and training anyways? He chuckled contentedly and nestled his leg between brawny thighs, feeling Gohan's erection press into his hip.
"Mmmm..." Gohan answered back softly, entering the realm of the conscious by degrees. He squirmed under Trunks' warm weight, providing a pleasant bit of friction. The older man made a happy noise and nibbled on Gohan's tempting shoulders. Okay, so this was much better than sleeping.
Two hands buried themselves deep in his hair and hauled him up for a toe-curling kiss. Oh, yes, yes. A hot tongue swept into his mouth, brushing over the sensitive inside of his lower lip and sending shivers up his spine. He stroked it with his own tongue, a wet, heated slide, and felt his lover respond in kind. Gohan was unspeakably good with his mouth; that was the first thing Trunks had learned when he finally got the younger demi-saiyajin as his own. Small wonder Videl had been so determined to keep her hooks in him.
Not that she ever stood a chance.
Trunks grinned smugly against Gohan's heated lips. There was a fond memory. Up until that point getting what he wanted had always been a straightforward affair for Trunks. In a world devastated by killer androids, with limited government and no police force to speak off, theft had been a fairly standard way of getting what you needed to survive. Want, take. Even the noble Gohan-sensei stole when necessary, though he didn't like it.
But Videl had been a problem. Trunks couldn't kill her---not that he hadn't considered it---and Gohan squirmed too much to simply cart away like the machine parts he used to nab for his mother. So, he'd been forced to use other tactics. Physical torture had always been something Trunks found extremely distasteful; mental torture on the other hand, was something he apparently had a gift for. Not to mention how much freaking fun it was.
Trunks was distracted from his amusement by the sudden southward migration of Gohan's hand. His brain just sort of dissolved for while after that.
"Good morning, blue eyes," Gohan said later, lazily tonguing his fingers clean. Trunks burbled something vaguely greeting-like in reply. Gohan chuckled softly, the dark gleam in his eye doing dangerous things to Trunks' slowly returning higher functions. "Sleep well?"
"Mmrgh. . ."
"Me too," Gohan purred, and suddenly flipped them over in a flurry of sheets and blankets. Trunks yelped and then laughed at his own surprise. Gohan wedged himself between eagerly parted thighs, grinning like the cat that had just cleaned out the bird shop and was now going after the fish store down the street. "I had the most entertaining dream last night. . ."
"Oh?" Trunks breathed, sliding his legs up around Gohan's trim hips and gasping softly.
"Yes, you were laid out on the bed...naked...covered in canned peaches..."
Trunks couldn't help a fit of giggles. "You and food..."
Things were just starting to get interesting again when the most hated sound in the world rang out over the room intercom.
"Gohan-chan! Trunks-kun! Are you up yet?!"
A groan of protest echoed out from the named parties. Gohan buried his face in the pillow next to Trunks' head and sighed in frustration. That settled it, Trunks decided, soon as he got his limbs working again the woman was toast. Grumbling shockingly explicit obscenities under his breath, Gohan pushed himself up to press the respond button on the panel above the bed. Trunks stopped him.
"No, no," he whispered urgently, "Maybe if we lie real still and quiet, she'll think we're dead and move on."
Gohan snorted. "You're underestimating my mother," he said, letting his hand drop from the wall to skim along the side of Trunks' face. Eyes like a starless night gazed down at him with quiet worship as powerful fingers traced the tender arch of his jaw, causing Trunks' chest to swell with a feeling almost too great for bone and flesh to contain.
For this he had forsaken his former life, leaving his mother's legacy in the hands of others.
No decision is without sacrifice and some part of him still longed for the blighted 'future' world that he'd fought so long and hard to save. But he'd made his choice when he destroyed the time machine once and for all, when he realized that his happiness was here, in the arms of the man above him.
Besides, what moron would chose a potential future as a bachelor over a lifetime of pounding Gohan's sweet ass?
"Get up you two! If I have to go up there and drag your naked backsides out of bed----"
Cries of horror. Both remembered the last time Chichi had made good on that particular threat. The rest of the family had yet to let them live it down. Gohan nearly cracked the wall in his rush to turn the intercom on. "We'll be down in a few minutes!" he informed the metallic grid.
"Good, breakfast is ready," Chichi said in a much sweeter voice, "Trunks-kun, could you get the boys for me? I sent them up to get dressed almost half an hour ago."
Trunks freed one hand from the bedding to salute the unseen Chichi.
"He'll be happy too, mom," said Gohan wryly, disconnecting the line. "So, wanna run away to the mountains with me?"
The lavender haired man groaned, covering his eyes. "It wouldn't work. We'll think we've found the perfect hiding spot and the next day your mom with show up wanting to make sure you have enough clean underwear."
"Or your father will wake us up in the middle of the night for some endurance training," Gohan countered, rolling off the bed and yelping as his feet hit the cold floor. Trunks uncovered his eyes to watch his lover walk around naked, that honey-brown tail brushing lightly over perfectly formed thighs.
He leered, turning onto his side to lounge suggestively on the bed. "Hey sweetness, why don't you bring that tight ass of yours back over here and---aaack!"
Denim jeans thrown at terminal velocity can be surprisingly painful.
2) Get kids dressed and off to school.
Trunks' nose was still smarting as he stepped out the door.
He didn't get very far when a damp blue cat came flying around the corner. Trunks moved back just in time to avoid being hit as Puar went screaming past. Seconds later, an equally moist and suds splattered Yamucha came charging after him, yelling all the while.
"...going to kill you! Come on Puar! It's just a fucking bath! If you didn't----morning Trunks----make such a big deal about it..."
Yamucha ran out of sight, the sound of his voice fading behind him. Trunks sighed and headed down the way they'd come, scratching lightly at his scalp. The boys' rooms were one level below Trunks and Gohan's. He plodded down the stairs to them, titling his head to hear the sounds of activity coming from the bottom floor. It was louder than normal this morning. His mother probably had her assistants over as they prepared for the conference later today.
Trunks found the door to his alternate-self's bedroom open and peered inside.
Chibi Trunks sat stark naked in the middle of a battlefield of action figures and authentic replica model warships. His hair was still wet from a recent shower and a towel lay in a crumpled heap behind him. He didn't notice Mirai's presence, deeply involved in talking his troops through a tricky maneuver.
Mirai Trunks folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching as two big-busted female warriors joined a male fighter wearing a loincloth in an assault against a battleship armed with tactical nukes. The three heroes seemed to have the advantage.
After a while, Mirai Trunks said wryly, "Weren't you supposed to be getting dressed?"
The younger boy's head jerked up in surprise and he gave his big brother a decent imitation of their father's scowl. "I am," he shot back defensively.
"I can tell," Trunks said sarcastically, "Leave the toys and put some clothes on kiddo, breakfast is ready." As Trunks had suspected, the mention of food got the nine-year-old moving.
Chibi Trunks lunged to his feet and dashed to the large dresser holding his absurd amount of clothing. "Hey, shut the door! I need some privacy," he ordered when Trunks continued to loiter in the doorway.
"You're been sitting here nude all this time and you want privacy for putting your clothes on?" Trunks asked in disbelief.
"Get out!"
"All right, all right," he said, waving his hands in surrender and kicking the door shut. He hoped to hell he hadn't been weird like that as a kid. Time to check on the other brat.
Goten's room was a little further down the hall. Mirai Trunks knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open when a faint mumble sounded from inside.
Goten sat on his bed and was, unlike his older cohort, completely dressed except for a sock he held loosely in one hand. His free hand was pressed against the side of his head, twisting as he dug the heel of it into his ear. His eyes had a slightly glazed look to them, like he'd just crawled out of the pit of sleep and would like to return at the earliest possible convenience, thank you.
Frowning, Trunks walked in and pulled Goten's hand away from his ear. "Leave it alone."
"It hurts," Goten said in a frustrated whine.
"You've probably got another infection," Trunks said with a sigh.
Goten's face twisted up. "Yuck. More ear drops."
"That's the way it goes when you've got such sensitive ears," Trunks said, ruffling the boy's wild spikes. Though Goten's hair didn't seem to grow as fast as Gohan's did, the dark mass was already starting sag down against his neck as it gained in length and weight. "Come on, let's head downstairs and eat before all the food is gone."
Goten nodded and yawned. He tugged on the one remaining sock, but paused before sliding off the bed, nose twitching. He cocked his head curiously. "Have a nice morning with niisan?"
Trunks felt himself blush and forced a scowl instead. "Yes," he admitted cautiously, "But that's not for you to be asking about."
Goten grinned cheekily. He bounced off the bed with a sudden influx of energy and grabbed Trunks' large hand in his small, chubby ones. "I'm glad you're here. Trunks-san makes Gohan-niisan happy and Gohan-niisan makes Trunks-san happy. I like that."
His smile softened and he added, "I'm still too young, but someday I want to make Trunks-kun happy like that. Ah, Trunks-kun!"
Like a blast of wind, Goten released him and zipped out the door. Seconds later, he was yelling food related threats at the younger Trunks through the still closed door.
Mirai stared after him before slapping a hand to his face. "The corruption starts so young..."
3) Eat a healthy, well-balanced breakfast
"...shit eating rat bastard son of a lame donkey and a desperate pig, mother fucking scum sucker..."
"Bulma-san, please! We still have a enough time to correct the diagrams," Bulma's assistant
Oraganiza said desperately as she followed her ranting employer around the table.
"We spent months testing out these designs," Bulma continued without missing a beat, arms slashing at the air around her, "We proved it over and over again; the secondary reinforcement grid is a fucking necessity. And he edits it out because of cost effectiveness? Who the hell gave this moron the authority to do that?"
"Um, you did, Bulma-san," came a timid voice from the pack of lackeys gathered at one end of the dinning room, "As part of the Cost Reduction Plan."
Bulma turned on them instantly and they took a collective step backwards, plastering their backs to the wall.
"I hired him," she said in a low voice, "Because someone,"---a dark haired lackey scrunched down behind his taller fellows---"gave me the impression that he was a competent individual who understood Capsule Corp's devotion to quality. Having been proven wrong, it seems I'm going to have to rectify the problem...on both ends!" she added in a growl, earning several whimpers.
"What have I been telling you Bulma?" Vegeta demanded from where he sat at the table, "Underlings work so much more effectively if you torture them every now and then." He gazed thoughtfully at the unfortunate souls, as if mentally mapping out where to stick the sharp pointy objects so as to produce the best screams, and continued to stuff noodles into his mouth.
"He doesn't mean that seriously," Goku said to the group, laughing far too nervously to be comforting. Vegeta snorted at him, then growled warningly when Oraganiza came too close his food.
"Good employees shouldn't have to be tortured," Bulma snapped, but the look in her eye showed she was seriously contemplating the suggestion. Several of the other lackeys began to inch away from the dark-haired one, hoping to go unnoticed should her wrath become unleashed upon him.
"Bulma-san, what's important now is that we get the report changed and the diagrams fixed and reprinted," Oraganiza said in a firm, calm voice. Bulma frowned at her but nodded, taking a deep breath.
"You're right," she admitted, "Okay you lot, you know what you're supposed to do, now MOVE!" The lackeys jumped as a solid unit and ran for the nearest escape route. "You have twenty minutes!" Bulma yelled after them.
The door to the kitchen pushed open and Chichi stuck her head in. "What's all this yelling about? Ah, Bulma-sa, have you eaten yet?" she asked, quickly switching to the more important subject.
Bulma winced guiltily, which was all the information Chichi needed. Following the younger woman's imperiously pointed finger, Bulma sat in the chair next to Goku and allowed Chichi to fix a heaping plate for her.
From the stair well came the rapid thwap-thwap of descending feet. Goten was running into the dinning room seconds later, fast followed by a scowling chibi Trunks with his shirt on backwards. The younger boy wasted no time in sliding under the table and attaching himself leech-like to his father's legs.
"I win!" he yelled, pressing the side of his face into Goku's knee. Goku reached under the table to ruffle his hair.
"You still have to share the odango, Goten," Trunks said irritably, bending over to frown at his friend.
"Na-huh, I got downstairs first, so I get them all!"
"I never agreed to that!"
Mirai Trunks walked in, calling out a polite "Good morning" over the boys' arguing. He dropped into the chair next to his father while Chichi dragged Goten out from under the table.
"Brat," Vegeta snapped, causing all three demi-saiyajin to turn to him obediently, "You missed training this morning."
Realizing that he was the 'brat' currently being addressed, Mirai Trunks blinked in surprise. "You know I don't start training until after Gohan leaves for work."
"Exactly," Vegeta said as if this were the greatest crime imaginable. He glared with such force it was a wonder Trunks didn't burst into the flames.
Trunks unconsciously scrunched down in his chair. "Okay."
Vegeta nodded and looked satisfied, going back to his breakfast. Goku looked around his lover's broad shoulders and said consolingly, "We'll wake you and Gohan up for it tomorrow."
As if Trunks hadn't told them months ago that they preferred to spend that time together.
He sighed. Those mountains were starting to look real good right about now.
4) Leave for work on time.
It was one of those days when everyone left the house all at once.
Goku and Vegeta collected Yamucha and the disgusted Puar for some after-breakfast training on a distant island (Trunks had to talk fast to convince them not to drag him along); Goten and Trunks the younger left for school (with much fussing and wails of despair); Chichi and her two assistants (students from the local culinary institute that Bulma hired to help with the workload of feeding six saiyajin) went shopping; and finally Gohan headed out to teach his morning classes.
Trunks had intended to accompany Gohan to the school before getting to his own duties at Capsule Corp., but he was stopped on his way out the door by a perfectly manicured hand on his arm.
"Trunks, I have a favor to ask you," his mother said, in her sweetest, most eyelash-fluttering way. He was instantly suspicious. "You know the Tamachi project?"
"Yes," he said slowly, eyeing her, "I was going to work on that today."
"Well..." she continued, "I need it by two o'clock this afternoon."
Trunks' jaw dropped. "There's no way! You're talking over two hundred pages of raw data that still needs to be complied and summarized! I need at least ten hours to—"
"It doesn't have to be perfect!" she interrupted him, waving her arms about in a gesture probably intended to be soothing, "I just need a couple pages to share at the board meeting."
He let out frustrating groan and swiped pale hair back from his forehead, giving the lingering a Gohan a pleading look. His lover just shrugged, helpless and bemused.
"Come pick me up after class," Gohan said, "We'll go out or something, just the two of us.
"Yay!" Bulma cheered, darting between the two boys to give each a kiss, as if Gohan's words were as good as a 'yes' from Trunks.
Which, Trunks acknowledged with a surge of mild annoyance, they essentially were. He loved Gohan desperately, but sometimes he wished the other saiya-jin wasn't quite so compromising and understanding of everyone else's wants. Especially when it meant Trunks had to be compromising and understanding too.
"Thank you so much," his mother said gratefully, taking a hold of his wrist to lead him back inside. He gave Gohan a forlorn, injured look, but the traitorous bastard just laughed it off and blew him a kiss before flying away.
The closing door cut off the sight with a solid click. He sighed and shook off Bulma's hand, following her back to their private workrooms and laboratory. The one he usually used held a full computer array and a coffee machine wedged in a corner behind piles of spare equipment and partially completed projects. She leaned over his desk to key up the required reports, turquoise covered behind swaying back and forth jauntily.
"There we go," she said, punctuating each word with a practical tap on the keyboard. A cascade of document windows dominated both of his dual monitors, hiding the far more attractive desktop backgrounds of Gohan dressed entirely in ribbons. "I owe you one, sweetie," she added, planting another kiss on his cheek and spinning away.
"Yeah, yeah," he said, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth despite himself. It sucked, but it made his mother happy, so he couldn't complain too hard about it.
Well he could, but whining got you no where with Bulma. Either you yelled and bashed your way out of the nearest wall to freedom – which really only worked if you enjoyed spending the next two months sleeping on the ground and hunting dinosaurs for dinner, hence why it was his father's favorite mode of avoidance – or you bowed your head and did what you were told.
He slid into his chair with a sigh and automatically reached over to turn on the coffee pot while he was at it. It came to life with a worrisome rattle.
"I'll send my assistant over to collect it one-thirty! Bye!" Bulma said, her jewel bright nail polish glittering in the fluorescent lights as she waved her goodbye. Silence echoed in the lab in the wake of her departure.
Trunks stretched out his fingers and got to work.
Partial THE END.