For the Love of Gohan is my second shounen ai story (READ: HOMOSEXUALITY!), and this one is rated 'pg-13' for a bit of language and a few suggestive scenes....Well, the overrating is mainly to keep away younger readers. ^^; I doubt that will work, but still...
This is one fanfic that will *not* be posted on my site, so make sure you check back here on FFN for new chapters.
I don't own any of these characters, etc, etc, and I stole a good many ideas from the Piccolo/Gohan doujinshi I own, (^#^) so if you've read them some little parts may seem familier. Please be mature when reading, and remember to check my website for more fanfiction!
"Pikoro-san!" Gohan tossed his bag down on the chair next to the door and glanced around, wondering where the massive namekusei-jin could be hiding. "Doko da?!"
"I'm right here, you don't have to yell."
Smoothing back his jet-black hair, Gohan walked into the living room, where Piccolo was seated on their couch, reading a thick book. Between his teeth was clamped a thin cigarette, and there was a half-empty bottle of sake sitting next to him.
"Pikoro, is this all you do all day?"
The namekusei-jin didn't glance up, just flipped a page and continued reading. It seemed that their daily conversation was over.... Gohan glanced at the clock on the mantel- 6:15 pm. Dinnertime already!
Rolling his eyes at Piccolo's indiference, the demi-saiya-jin moved on up the stairs to their bedroom, pulling off his shirt and throwing it into the laundry room as he went. It had been months since he'd moved in with Piccolo to a small house in the country, and everyday was almost the same, no matter what, except for one little thing...
'I moved in here because he said he loved me,' Gohan sighed as he donned something much more comfortable than the suit he wore while teaching. The moment Piccolo had said that was the happiest second in his whole life, and the experiance that had followed the words- his first time in the namekusei-jin's arms had been something he would never forget. But now.... 'Now he never says anything to me, it's like I'm not even here... Would he even miss me if I left?'
Their home wasn't small, it was a level three capsule house, three bedrooms, two baths, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen and a game room. It was really too big for the two of them, but it had been cheap and Gohan didn't want to move again now that he had his own home. It had been hard enough to make Piccolo settle down in a town (albeit a small one) rather than in the middle of nowhere. The house was filled wall-to-wall with his own things, pictures and trinkets he had gained over the years, since Piccolo scarcely owned anything other than the stock of cigarettes he kept in his nightstand and the clothes on his back.
Gohan smoothed down his shirt and flipped his shoes off, kicking them into the closet with a pair of dual thunks, then he pulled off his pressed pants and tugged on a dirty pair of jeans. Flopping back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling and sighed.
"What to do..."
Closing his eyes, Gohan tried to think. Love. He was in love, yes, definately, but the question was- did Piccolo even love him back? Anymore? Did he ever?
A blush crept up the demi-saiya-jin's face, though the room was empty. Piccolo was as much of a lover as Gohan could ever want, but....That was the only time Piccolo showed any affection, the only time he mentioned Gohan's name with more than annoyance or anger. It got so frustrating...
He could feel his eyes filling with water. 'I'm so weak,' the saiya-jin sighed, scrubbing the streaks from his face with the corner of the bedspread. 'I need him so much, but he doesn't understand that. How can he just....just keep living like this....?'
Standing, the boy moved into the bathroom and splashed a bit of water from the sink bowl up against his face, a pathetic attempt to hide the tears that marred his skin.
"This isn't how it was supposed to be, it was supposed to be perfect!" he whispered softly, staring miserably at his own reflection. "It's all wrong and he doesn't even care..."
It would be easier if Piccolo had even noticed Gohan's quiet suffering, but the namekusei-jin seemed blind to it. How could this be?! Everything Gohan had seen in Piccolo's eyes when they first became more than friends was dead now, and Gohan felt trapped within a glass cage he would never escape from.
The phone chose that moment to jump off the hook with clanging rings, and Gohan leapt as well, surprised by the sudden noise. With a sigh, he cleared his throat and sniffed once, then took the reciever in one hand and spoke in a carefully controlled voice. "Mushi mushi, Son-Daimaou residence-"
On the other end, a familier voice suddenly sounded worried- the speaker knew him well enough to sense the distress in his tone. "Gohan, it's me. Daijobu ka...?"
A look of relief spread across Gohan's face as he recognized the speaker- someone he could trust. Someone who understood and at times was willing to listen. "Trunks!"
"Yeah, it's me, you sound like something's wrong." Trunks tried to sound compassionate (instead of eager), praying that Gohan would say the words he had been waiting to hear for years...
"Well...Pikoro-san is....well, driving me crazy." Gohan paused a moment before admitting the problem, but once he had confessed, he felt a bit lighter of spirit. "Nothing is like I imagined it would be."
Close enough. A brilliant smile spread across Trunks' face, but he forced his voice to sound controlled- don't let Gohan know! 'Relationship problems....it leaves a place for me to step in and show him how kind I can be, this could be the chance I've been waiting for!' "Saa....if you want to talk about it, I was going to ask you out to lunch tomorrow, I have a three-hour break, and if you need to talk, I'm more than willing to listen."
"Hontou?" Well, tomorrow WAS saturday, and Piccolo never cared where he went, let alone who he was with... Was that a good thing? "That would be really nice, Trunks. What time should I meet you?"
"Why don't you come by my office at eleven, and we'll find a nice fancy restaraunt, my treat. Unless you want to talk now..."
"Ah, it can wait. I'll see you tomorrow."
Gohan listened until the other end of the line clicked once and went dead, then he set the phone down and turned around.
Piccolo was standing in the doorway.
"Piccolo-san?" Gohan blinked, stomach turning. He wasn't sure why he would want to keep his misery a secret, but somehow...somehow it wasn't the time to tell him. 'Will Pikoro get mad if he knew I'm going to lunch with Trunks?'
Gohan spared a quick prayer that he would be- that would be a show of jealously, and in turn, affection. Protectiveness. Something he longed to feel again... "Trunks was on the phone, I'm going to meet him for lunch tomorrow."
"Ah." was all Piccolo said as he stepped forward and pulled Gohan tight against his chest. The boy felt a surge of pleasure at the closeness and then of anger, speculations filling his mind. 'Pikoro must have heard the conversation... He thinks that one little hug will make everything okay... I don't want that, I don't want to be his toy, and I don't want any fake emotions just so that I'll stay around with him...'
"Pikoro-san, let me go..."
Piccolo pressed his lips against Gohan's forehead, letting his hands slide over the younger man's back, feeling the tensed muscles there and tracing over the curves of strength, dominating the boy with barely a thought. He smirked as he felt Gohan weaken against him as he slid his hands lower, speaking gruffly in the boy's ear. "I don't want to."
Oh. Gohan understood now- Piccolo hadn't heard the conversation, he just wanted the only kind of love he seemed capable of feeling, physical love. Gohan was washed in conflicting emotions- hunger for his mentor and revulsion- he was being used. A toy of pleasure. 'Did he ever REALLY love me?'
Some part of him said yes, screamed it into the blackness of his thoughts. What if he had, what if he still did? Wouldn't that make all of this worthwhile?
Maybe someday Piccolo would understand all the things his chosen needed, the emotions, the small words, the secret smiles that had forged their relationship in the first place.
Jerking back to reality, Gohan felt his shirt sliding from his shoulders- the decision had already been made for him, and struggle was pointless now. Still, just for show, he pushed at Piccolo's bare shoulders and tried to ignore the lips on his neck. "Come on, please, not tonight, Piccolo-"
Well...what was one more night...?
"Fine...fine..." he sighed, then let the bitterness fall from his voice and be replaced by adoration. "Pikoro-san, aishiteru..."
The alarm let out a shrill squeal, loud enough to raise the dead. Piccolo cracked open one eye and regarded the face of the jibbering thing, then yawned toothily and blinked. Ten o'clock already? He had slept much later than normal, which wasn't surprising, all things considered.
Beside him, Gohan stirred, then swore. "Oh, shit!"
Piccolo lazily curled an arm around the boy's thin waist as Gohan sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Come back to bed," he murmered, trying to tease Gohan into one more round before the afternoon hours. "The day's still young."
"No! Pikoro, I have to go, I'm meeting Trunks in an hour!! I have to get ready."
"Who needs Trunks?" the namekusei-jin purred, running his fingers across Gohan's washboard stomach invitingly as the younger man shivered, looking as if he wanted to give in.
"Oh.....NO." Gohan shoved his arm aside and stood, wrapping one of the still-warm sheets around himself like a toga as he made his way towards the bathroom, stopping at the closet to dig a decent looking pair of pants for the lunch 'date' from beneath a dozen of Piccolo's indigo gis. "I need Trunks- he's my best friend."
He left Piccolo alone to figure out what exactly that meant.