Another prompt on my little P-Gh LJ community ended up being a sorta silly sequel to Suits, so tada! Here ya go. It's not quite as cute, but I had fun with it anyway.

"I said I was sorry."

I don't understand this kid, the way he's looking at me- those eyebrows pulled together so contemplative, lip pouting out slightly. It's annoying the hell out of me. What does he want from me?

"You know... other couples don't have this kind of problem."

"Other couples don't have me in them."

There's that sweet little look that seems friendly, but the grin's got a tone behind it- "If they did, I'd probably have to knock their head in". I raise an eyeridge. This is fantastic so far.

"What the hell do you want me to do about it?" I snort, snapping the topic back to the problem at hand. He blinks at me and settles back in his chair, spinning all the way back around from facing the computer. By the gods I hate that thing- it's always buzzing faintly in the back of my ears, but he insisted on it. I made him make up for that. I wish this would fix so quickly.

Gohan chews lightly on the end of a pen- it tilts back as he looks off to the side to think, and I just want to pull the damn thing out of his mouth and swat him with it. And then just lean over him and...

No. You loose the argument if you let you mind wander off in that direction. You start thinking about his lips too much and you loose focus and then he gets you to cave in every time. It's like that damn puppyface he used as a kid, but much, much worse.

"I was thinking we could just go. It wouldn't be too bad." He smiles a little. The pen tilts off in a direction that accents it. It doesn't help my stubbornness on the issue.

"I'm not going."

"Ooooh, yes you are. We didn't go to any last year. We're going this year."

"We went to one the year before and broke a building."

"That's because -someone- had to pick a fight with Vegeta."

Now that's just- "There's only so much I can take from him- I warned you about that in the first place, and-"

Gohan just gets a little more of a grin. "You didn't fight him over the jokes about us. You punched him when he made a crack about the bow tie."

"... You're the one who made me wear it." is the best I can come up with. Impressive Piccolo, really.

Bare elbows lean on the bottom railing of the bed as he kicks the computer chair lightly over to where I'm sitting, and he's got that damn brilliant smile again that simultaneously makes me want to kiss him and annoys the hell out of me because he knows me so damn well. "I am. And I'm going to win this time too."

And there comes the migraine. My hands come up to my temples and press in hard- yes, there's that little throb starting to grow.

"I'm not wearing another godsdamned bow tie."

"Of course not."

"Why do I get the feeling its going to be worse than the bow tie."

A little creak issues from the chair as Gohan pushes off it, and the muscle tone in his shoulders ripples slightly as he crouches to shut his computer off before walking back over. With that stupid pen still in his mouth. And he smiles with it there and it hops up at a happy little angle again, like those big bright black eyes and the lock of hair that's always in his face even when he pulls it back. "It's really not Pic. It's not even a suit."

"Really." Somehow, I don't believe him. He seems to notice this.

"Really. I promise."

"Sure you do."

His answer is to smile at me again and walk off to the closet he insists on labeling as mine, although I want no part of the vast majority of the clothes he insists on calling mine in it. I have my gi. It's been good enough for the rest of my life, and it should be good enough now wherever I'm living..

"Gohan, I said I was sorry, but I'm not going to some human food roast,"

"Barbecue. And I'd really like if we did."

I snort at him and push off the bed, stepping around his shoes on the floor to stand behind him as he flips through the hangers. He looks back at me with that little smile again. Still eating the pen. Damn pen's driving me crazy. I'm sorely tempted to yank the thing out before he swallows it.

"I'd really like if we didn't."

The black bit of plastic flicks off to another angle as he's talking, held lightly in his teeth and it makes the soft laugh sound weird. "Pic, what the heck else is there to do on a perfectly beautiful Saturday?"

For some reason he turns around, and blinks at me with this big dumb look on his face. I mentioned he was half dressed, right? Jeans, some half-open dress shirt. Or whatever it is- normal human clothes from what I've been told. And while I don't approve of them for myself, I can't stop staring at him when he's wearing them like that.

And he continues to chew on that stupid pen, right in the soft corner of his mouth.

"Spit it out."

"What, Pic?"

"The damn pen."

Another blink, slight tilt of the head that sends the thing bobbing off into another direction as he shifts it in his teeth to talk. No idea what he said because it cuts off halfway when I crouch suddenly down to his level, pull the thing out of his face and toss it across the room. It probably hit something. But I was too busy kissing those lips to notice it. He buckles somewhat at the knees which makes me have to catch him, and makes a startled noise that peters off fairly quickly as he gives in to it.

At some point, he needs to breathe- shakily, wide eyed. Those big damn dark eyes with his hair in his face. And he finally stops talking for five minutes.

"... I could RSVP."

"Does that involve going more than five feet."

"Yes. It means letting them know we're not coming."

"How about they figure it out on their own."

"... That sounds good too."

End. 7/16/2008 5:10 AM