≈slaps forehead≈ the thing kept growing on me – either I'm too in tune with Goten, or I'm simply way too garrulous – but I refused to split the chapter in two again. So, here it is, the final chapter of "Busted". One warning: I tried to keep this fluffy all the way down, but Goten is a bit more foul-mouthed than usual. Also, traces of higher-rated stuff can be found approximately mid-way down the chappie, such a mentions of bloody ceremonies and such. ;D

Title: "Busted".
Author: Nemesi.
Fandom: DBZ.
Genre: Romance. Humor.
Word Count: 2647 (this chapter). 5646 (total).
Characters/Pairing: TruTen.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: DBZ, its characters, places and themes belong to Akira Toriyama, Bird Studio, Shueisha, FUNimation, etc.. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Foul-mouthed Goten saying swearing/dirty words. Slash. Sexual innuendo and situations.
A/N: Fits into the same universe as "Homeward Bound", but it's not necessary to read that one to get this. :)
Summary: Trunks is away for Christmas. Goten feels lonely enough to go and do… something he's not sure he should have done. Chaos ensues.

Ki: a person's inner energy, used in fighting to form explosive balls or beams.
Gi: garment usually worn by martial artists for training.
Chibi: it translates roughly into "Little One".
Ouji: "Prince". In this fic, it refers solely to Vegeta.
IT: stands for Instant Transmission. Goku's technique which allows him to instantly zap from one place to another.
Kami-sama: God.
Vegetasei: The Saiyajin's home planet.

≈¤≈Goten's POV≈¤≈

Okay, okay, okay. Don't panic. I'm about to be mauled by the love of my life, but this is hardly the first time. Usually it happens during training, and Trunk does not have this homicide glint in his eyes, but I'll try not to focus on that.
I can deal with this. I know I can. Come on, it's just Trunks! Same old, dearly beloved Trunks. I know exactly what to say to appease him.
"Uhh…"
…helllllllllllllllllllo? Brain? Anyone home? Mphf. Forgot it doesn't work well under Trunks—induced stress, so what now?
Trunks narrows his eyes, teeth gnashing together. He's crouching over me, like a big bad cat ready to pounce, shaking, vibrating, waiting in silence. A nerve on his forehead is jumping, as I thought I'd see only in cartoons.
This is so not like what I'd envisioned. I mean, yes: Trunks was bound to get a little angry. But for the love of Kami – he was supposed to be at least a little happy, too! He was supposed to be stunned, pissed, worried. Even to scold me at first, dote on me for a while, and then be happy.
Because that is what one does when his boyfriend turns his deepest desire into reality. One gets happy, smiles, and signs the whole tale down with a friggin' happily-ever-after ending.
Hm? How can I know Trunks's deepest fantasy, you ask? Babes, bring out your notebooks and take some notes now, please.
Axiom 001, also known as The First Law of Truten: given two Demi-Saiyajins Goten Son and Trunks Vegeta Briefs, each of them will always, unconditionally, know what the other wants, thinks or feels.
Translated: I know him like the back of my hand, we've been together since our diaper days. Plus, we're kinda telepathic. It's not like we speak with each other in our minds, no. But we can sense what the other is feeling, like an explosion of colours behind our eyelids, or a faint buzzing in the back of our brain.
"I asked you something, Goten."
Goten, he said. Not Chibi. Goten. It may mean nothing to you, that he decided to use my name instead of my nickname. But translated from Trunks-ish to English, it spells trouble. Big trouble, in big capital letters, underlined in red. Twice.
To think he'd have been happy with the news, had I had the time to prepare him properly, to hint and tease and then – an adequate and possibly very long amount of "then" later – uncover my secret when the time was right.
"Y'see, it's like this…"
"I am listening."
Dry. Too dry. Never a good sign, not when Trunks is concerned, anyway. That's gotta be his best badass "Vegeta voice" ever, and trust me, I've got some experience in the area.
"I — well, I guess my brain-cells went bye-bye for some time after you left, and after all aren't you supposed to be the brains of the pair? I mean, it figures I'd go and do something stupid once left to my own devices! Not that it didn't sound like a good idea, mind you. I thought you'd appreciate it, but that could'a been only the chocolate speaking, if not for the fact that you mentioned this, I mean, not this-this, but this, in general, you mentioned it, the concept of…"
"Goten?"
"Uh?"
"…rambling."
"Ah…" I say, sportin' what feels like a blush. "Yeah. Uh. Sorry."
"Are you?"
Inhaling sharply, Trunks reaches out and delicately traces the cause of all the commotion: a Nan'gra of the Royal House of Vegetasei, spreading along my hip.
A Nan'gra is the Saiyajin equivalent of a tattoo, more or less. A symbol which is either etched or burnt into the skin, and then filled with pigments once the wound has bleed a customary amount. If you feel masochistic enough, you can also add metal piercings here and there as the finishing touch.
As you can imagine, a Nan'gra is more painful than your average tattoo. To put it bluntly, getting one hurts like above and beyond the deepest pits of Hell.
It's also more – uhm – embarrassing, too. You can receive a Nan'gra only after a ceremony of sorts, dubbed Nan'greth, which requires a period of fasting, nakedness, sweat, blood loss, nakedness, strange incenses burning, and did I mention nakedness, already?
Each Saiyajin sported at least one Nan'gra, back when we were more than just an handful. But due to the painful, intimate and sacred quality of the ceremony, Saiyajins who were already bonded could receive a Nan'gra only by their rightful mates. Uncommitted Saiyajin had no such restrictions, and some warriors sported from two to ten Nan'gra on their bodies, sometimes etched by different people.
Technically, I still fit into the latter category – Trunks and I might be an official couple by Human standards, but we've not yet become mates by Saiyajin customs. I understand why it might irk him, that someone saw me like that, touched me like that. But what's worth more to him? A few hours of me being exposed to someone else's eyes, or a life-time of me bearing this mark, a signature that says we belong together?
Trunks struggles with himself for a moment, that analytical mind of his going to my Nan'greth. I bit my lip, catching a faint image coming from him. It's me. Naked. Writhing in the clutches of a faceless fiend as the Nan'gra is etched on my skin. It's painfully detailed, for a fantasy.
And erotic.
It enrages and excites him both.
Shakily, Trunks traces the Nan'greth again, as if trying to rub it away with his fingertips. When he speaks again, his voice has softened a tad, which makes the task of breathing a little easier for me.
"Why?"
"You… ever since we got together, you've been talking 'bout markin' each other, bonding the Saiyajin way. Since Vegeta won't tell us how to do that, 'cuz we're too young and stuff, I thought to go for the next best thing. You were always fixed with the idea of Nan'gra, weren't you?"
I remember the first time Vegeta mentioned the Nan'greth to us. Trunks's eyes had fled to me, wide and eager, looking at me as if I was some kind of miracle. Then, all of a sudden, his eyes had shut down and he'd looked away, contrite and shamed. In his mind, in neon letters, I could sense desire, I could sense guilt.
He'd always wanted to bond with me by Saiyajin customs, to mark me and be marked in turn. Denied that, he now longed more than anything else to see a Nan'gra on my skin. But things are never that easy with Trunks – believe me when I say his middle name is "complicated". And complicated were his feelings on the Nan'gra. As much as he wanted me to have one, he lacked the heart to inflict such pain on me. He also felt guilty for wanting to do something so crudely painful to his love; not to mention enraged and jealous at the thought of someone else doing it in his stead.
This odd, suffocating brew of guilt, shame, rage, jealousy, mixed with the hot, spicy drug of fulfilled desire, of lusty contentment and pride, is the fuel of his current anger.
"Why this?"
I shrug, as much as his hold on me allows.
"A Nan'gra is a statement of sort. A Claim. It gives us our identity."
His eyes flash again.
"And that explain the presence of my Father's seal onto your body how?"
…come again? His father's seal? His father's? What the blinking heck… ?! Since when does the Royal House start and end with Vegeta?
"What else was I supposed to put on my skin to say that I'm related to your family? The CC logo?!"
"Nothing at all would have been a good enough choice!"
Nothing? But he's the one who wanted me to have a Nan'gra that said we… oh!
Oh.
Ooooohh… I get it now.
The moron has no friggin' clue of what I've gone through and why!, I think to myself, realize I'm not talking to Trunks like I'd thought before, but rather I'm having a close encounter with his damned-to-Kami jealousy, and suddenly lose every ounce of patience I'd left.
"You drama-queen prick, you!" I holler. "Take a look at the Nan'gra, Your Royal Blindness! Take a real look at it!" I shoot him a glare, daring him to deny he's been too busy angst-ing to really notice what the symbol on my body says, "and you'd see a T entwined with the customary V on the Seal. It's there 'cause your name is not Vegeta, like all the previous Princes, but Trunks Vegeta. And it's purple instead of crimson 'cause your hair is. I had to go and get a Royal decree from Vegeta, a friggin' Royal decree, to modify the Seal so that it would suit you, and you don't even notice!"
Trunks blinks. Then once more. And again. He glances down at the Nan'gra as if it was the first time he saw it.
"Are you saying this isn't – that Father doesn't – that the mark says…"
His eyelids begin to flutter rapidly, up and down, up and down, very quickly, until his face settles into a wide-eyed look, a curious mix of awed and fearful.
"It says that I belong to a member of the Saiyajin Royal family, yeah. But guess what? It also specifies that I belong to the only Royal Prince whose name begins with T and V, and who has some sort of relation with purple. Can you think of any?"
"…me?!"
Sweet Kami above, can he look any more like a kitten? No, seriously. Trunks's always possessed a feline quality – whereas I'm always compared to puppies. Right now though, he's not seductively feline, sleek and sexy in a panther-like way. He reminds me quite vividly of a tiny, blue-eyed kitten, all wet and ruffled.
Will you excuse me for a moment as I go all "awwww" on it? Thank you.
"Well, duh." I say, an adequate amount of glaring later. "Who else?"
"But Father…"
"…'s got the damn thing printed on every friggin' thing he owns. And then you wonder why I had the symbol modified. Jeez, Trunks. Seriously. I don't belong to just any member of the Royal House. I belong to you, dimwit."
Trunks looks extremely sheepish, as of now, which is a nice change. He is brilliant, no doubt on that. However, he's got the tendency to flip all his intelligence out of the window, whenever he gets even the slightest bit jealous. Obviously, his jealousy kicked in the moment he realized that someone locked themselves with his chosen mate in a cave, as naked as the day we were born, to etch something on my skin. And during his intelligence-leave, Trunks overlooked the obvious fact that said etched something was "property of Trunks Vegeta Briefs".
At least the lost intelligence is returning from its trip outside Trunks's skull, now. I mean, if the look on his face is anything to go by. He's so surprised! Why, oh why, wasn't this his first reaction? Why did I have to a fall for a "rip into their flash first, ask later" kind of guy? Why did he have to go and misunderstand everything, and doubt me, and believe even for a moment that I'd gotten something that said I belonged to Vegeta, and, and, and…
"Uhh…"
"Yeah, 'uhh'. I knew you wanted this, Trunks. And I knew you wouldn't put me through something as painful as a Nan'greth, too. So I put myself through it."
"Why?"
Some of his sense is still out camping with the bees, uh?
"Trunks," I sigh. "Trunks. I knew you'd like it, if I had a mark on me that said I was yours. I mean, I liked the idea, and you were so obsessed with the whole mark-thing, and we cannot yet bond the Saiyajin way, and it was the Holidays, and so, duh…" I look up, catch Trunks's eyes with mine, and pout. "Merry Christmas?" I offer.
"This is what you got me for Christmas?"
I wince.
"Bad move?"
"Bad?" he growls, eyes narrowed. "I will show you just how bad."
And he pounces.
The kiss is rough, and deep, and when he presses his thumb to my cheek to force my mouth open, his tongue slips inside, moving in and out, in and out. His teeth enter the picture, nibble at my bottom lip, draw blood, which he sucks and licks away, and I don't think I've ever been kissed quite like this before. It's doing things to me — to the Saiyajin half of me — that I dunno how to name. But boy, if we keep this up, we're gonna figure out by ourselves the Super Secret Holy Ancient Bonding Ceremony of Vegetasei. And perform it. Perform it, yes.
I follow after Trunks when he pulls away, and yeah, the deep, low growling you can hear is no rabid thing prowling, but it's coming from me. I manage to catch Trunks's lips. Once. Twice. Three times. Then I slump back on the bed, eyes wide.
"You… aren't angry anymore?" I venture.
Instead of answering, he leans down and rains kisses across and around the Nan'gra, then nibbles gently at the jut of bone of my hip, making me groan. He buries his face against my belly, smirking at the sound. I feel his mouth curl against my skin.
"You knew I would be angered by this?"
"Yeah, well, kinda. I knew you'd appreciate the idea, but I also knew you'd flip if I didn't prepare you for the shock. After all, I've gone and hurt myself without notifying you first, Mr. Don't Do Anything Dangerous Or I'll Kill You."
"I cannot deny that I am upset. Who wouldn't be? You have been deeply hurt, and someone has seen you naked. They have touched you, intimately, while in a similar state of undress. I'm hardly pleased with those facts. But this, Chibi. This…" he trails off, sounding chocked.
Now that he's got all things straight, he looks pleased enough, I dully note to myself. I have barely enough time to catch the delighted glint in his eyes, before he lowers his mouth to the Nan'gra and his tongue begins stroking the little initials of his name.
"Y'mean you like?" I ask, smugly.
He looks up at me from under his lashes, his breathing puffing urgently against my wet skin, and I swear, it's suddenly become one hundred degrees hotter, in here.
"More than just like," he growls, kinda rough, kinda soft, and from our link he lets me feel how it pleases and thrills and moves and even arouses him that I've been able to read into his heart and give him exactly what he wanted. A proof for everyone to see that we belong together, always have, always will.
Cradling his face, I draw Trunks up to me, close his mouth with mine. I allow him to catch a glimpse of my emotions, in turn — the love, yeah; the passion, of course. But the contentment, also. The pleasure and giddiness and cockiness for being able to read him so deep down, so clearly; the amusement I feel for predicting his double reaction so well. I send him a glimpse of the fear I had of him overreacting, and one hell of a chiding for being an ass. My hot-headed, over-jealous, dim-witted, genius ass.
He laughs into my mouth, admits telepathically that he would — I quote — have kicked my arse to the moon and back had my body been wounded and exposed for any other reason than please him, and then proceeds to thoroughly acquaint himself with his sparkling-new gift.

We don't resurface from the bedroom for quite a long time.

≈¤≈おわり≈¤≈

Ending are my weak-point. ≈winces≈
Anyhow, our little trip in the Homeward Bound Universe is now over. So many other things have happened and will happen in this particular fan-verse : the tale of Bra's advice mentioned in Homeward Bound. The boys "coming out" to their families. Goten getting his Nan'gra (and it'd be only fair if Trunks got one himself, now), Bulma's snide attempts to know all juicy details of his son's great romance… but as I said, I've written nothing more for this fan-verse. Not yet, at least.
For those of you who are wondering about Nan'gra, they are completely fanon. Something I came out with out of sheer craziness. :P The etching-then-painting tattooing method is inspired by the one Native Americans used. The "piercing added as a finishing touch" were an idea I borrowed from Royo's illustrations. He often draws people (girls) wearing tattoos-mixed-piercing on their bodies, and I just love those things.