Disclaimer: The manga and anime Dragon Ball Z and all characters portrayed (however poorly) or mentioned in the following text are copyrighted essentially to their creater, Akira Toriyama, and used without his permission.

Warning!!: This story contains YAOI, which means two guys having sexual relations (with each other!) If this offends you. . . well, first of all, I pity you, 'cause it's really great! Oh, but, if this offends you, then you shouldn't read it. Just hit the back button on your browser (or for IE just hit the backspace key on your keyboard!) and leave now. I won't be offended, I used to dislike it too (and then I realized how boring my life was. . . oh. . .)

Warning (kinda): This was basically s'posed to be a PWP. . . but I was feeling funny (I felt like BEING funny!), and I just went with it, and thought it was too good not to share with people who (hopefully) will appreciate it. You're supposed to laugh, so hopefully you will.


We weren't supposed to be back until two. I mean, it was prom night, and we'd told our dads that we were going to party with our friends afterward, so they agreed to set our (informal) curfew at two a.m. But. . . something happened at the prom, and we . . . DECIDED to come home early.

Trunks and I did a little 'discovering' at the prom. We discovered that our dates were really shallow, only wanting to be our dates because we were nominees to be Prom King (and since our Highschool is so messed up, there is no nominated Prom Queen, it's just the Prom King's date.). Well, we ditched our dates and decided to start the partying early. And then we 'discovered' that ever since either of us can remember, we've been attracted to each other. I mean, I knew it for myself, and Trunks knew it, but tonight we realized the feeling was mutual. So we decided to go over to Capsule Corp. and 'talk'. Yeah right, talk right after the prom. Well, we were going to start out talking. And, I mean, we figured our dads would still be sparring, you know? That's what they always do, whenever we're around! Okay, see, both of our parents are divorced. Bulma now travels around the world, checking up on all the international Capsule Corp. branches, and my mom takes care of my grandpa, who's getting pretty old. Well, Vegeta, that's Trunks's dad, lives in this really pretty cool cabin in the woods a little ways from the Capsule Corp. building. Well, he offered my dad a place to stay when my dad moved out of my mom's house. So they live in this cabin, and pretty much spar all the time, either out back in the woods or in the gravity room (Which Miss Bulma gave Vegeta, saying she didn't ever want to fix it again.).

Okay, so by the time we got to the cabin, we'd had a little to drink (there are NO laws against drinking and flying!). Despite what people think, alcohol affects even Saiya-jins. It just doesn't get us 'drunk', just gives us a pleasant buzz and lowers our inhibitions slightly. But we are still completely in control of all of our faculties!

So, anyway, we got back to the cabin, and found the door locked. Trunks pulled out his keychain and starts looking for the right key, and I suddenly got the bright idea to run my hand up from his shoulders into his hair.

He dropped the keys. He shivered and clumsily dropped the keys! (No, Trunks doesn't have to drink to be that jumpy, trust me.) So he goes down and swipes the keys, and I grab his ass (maybe along with the lowered inhibitions, alcohol gives us a heightened libido. . . or maybe that's just me!).

Finally, I turn around so I can keep my hands off him while he unlocks the door. He grabs my wrist and drags me inside the dark house. Our dads are either asleep, or training in the gravity room. I guess neither of us had the brilliant idea to search for their ki's. . . if we had, do you think I would be telling this humiliating story?!

Well, we make it as far as the couch before we're pretty much all over each other, kissing and running our hands under shirts and inside pants and . . . well, you know, how most hormone-driven males act when they know they're going to get some. Somehow, we found the couch and fell on it (me on the bottom -- but that means NOTHING!) We're trying to untuck and unbutton each other's shirt, unwrap ties, take off pants and everything underneath -- all at the same time. When suddenly, I hear this moan.

Okay, Trunks and I are breathing heavily, maybe grunting a little in frustration at our stubborn close and our racing hormones, but neither of us *moaned*. We stop and stare at each other in the semi-darkness, waiting breathlessly (literally -- I told you we were panting!) to see what was going on.

Another moan. It was low, gutteral, and sounding like. . . my DAD?!?! Both our eyes widen as we stare at each other. I don't know what was going through Trunks's mind, but I was really wondering whether I WANTED to know what was going on. Unfortunately, I hadn't decided fast enough, because next we heard a groan, this one even lower in pitch, and then "Kakarott. . ."

Now, I know what you're going to say after I tell you what we did next. You're going to say we were idiots, morons, imbeciles, and many things I was taught not to say or call people, but. . . if you heard your father and your best friend's father *getting it on* in one of the next rooms, you'd have done the same thing.

Our eyes widened even more (how that's possible, I don't know, but it HAPPENED!), our jaws dropped open. . . and we screamed bloody murder! I swear, I have never screamed so long and so long in my life! (And since that night, Trunks has made me scream A LOT!)

It was gross! I know, you're probably like, "But you guys were about to do the same thing!" Yeah, but, it's like walking in on your parents when they're having sex! And, I mean, at least your parents are male and female! We had no IDEA that both of our fathers. . . TOGETHER. . . We'd seen no clues to hint that they had *THAT* kind of relationship! Besides, Trunks and I grew up together and we're best friends. Our fathers tried to KILL each other when they first met!

Okay, so anyway, we were completely unprepared for finding out about our fathers, so we screamed, obviously loud enough for them to hear us in the next room. We're still screaming, and about the time we have to inhale or pass out from lax of oxygen, the light flips on, and both our fathers are standing there (Thank GOD they were decently dressed. . . though only in training pants, but STILL!), staring at us. Yeah, THEY'RE staring at US the same way we looked when we heard them. Because, of course, Trunks and I are still on the couch, my tie on the floor, Trunks is hanging loose under his collar, my shirt is half unbuttoned, his is completely undone down to his jeans, which are unbuttoned, but still zipped. I'm not sure if mine were still zipped or not, but still, you get the idea.

So we all lay/stood there, staring at each other as if the other company had grown extra heads (NO dirty jokes! That was not an intentional pun, you little perverts!). Finally, Vegeta's face formed his regular smirk and he crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, crossing one leg casually over the other. "Party too boring for you?"

Trunks and I stared at him. My dad finally remembered how to make his body function and closed his jaw (but he still eyed us funny), affecting his own relaxed pose. "Uh. . . I think we need to talk." The way he was looking at us, it was almost like he meant a parent/child talk about sex, and not about what had just happened. But I don't want to know about his knowledge (all, I'm sure, first-hand) about the subject, so I pushed Trunks toward the back of the couch and crawled out form under him, smiling the happy, oblivious smile people say I inherited from my dad. "No we don't," I reply, and take off for my room. No WAY did I want to talk about what just happened, or anything at ALL relating to it. So better to just not talk at all. That's why I'm here, holed away in my room as I speak. . . err, type, avoiding my father and my friend's father. Who is apparently closer to my father than I realized. Yecch! Oh, crap! someones knocking on the door please let it be trunks i gotta go bye!


Hope ya liked it! And if you want me to continue, and tell you who REALLY is knocking at the door. . . you have to review and tell me, or e-mail me at sailor_silver_fox@hotmail.com I don't get many reviews for stories that are pretty much To Be Continued, so PLEASE REVIEW!!! Just put in your name (if you have to) and say "Ugh. Good story. Me Like. Write More Now Or I Beat Over Head With Club!" or some other odd instrument. Thanks! Bye.