Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fusion's Claustrophobia ❯ This Can't Be Healthy ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

A/N: This came to me while I was in a BIGLots . . . . Hmm, and I may have made this with Trunks having a lot on his mind for an eight year-old. And Goten's a lot smarter than people give him credit for. Oh, well.

He had literally fused. Fused! With him. Goten. That boy with the crazy hairdo (seriously, was he the only Saiyan with normal hair?) who was supposed to be his best friend. And he was. They were close.

But they weren't supposed to be that close! It was terribly uncomfortable, fusing. It felt as if he were all on top of Goten, mixing all in with his body parts and his less mature mind.

And then there was this odd warmth that threw the whole thing off, making it feel gross. Just feeling all of Goten was gross.

And he lost himself in fusing, becoming a completely different person. It was all Goten's thoughts pushing on his and his shoving back on his and totally confusing at times. All Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but with two people.

Fusion had sounded cool at first, and then stupid with all the ballerina moves, and then somewhat awesome when Goku had prattled on about it. But truly, the touching of Goten's body like that had disgusted and turned him off. He'd thought, "Dude, I'm so done with this sick maneuver." Especially after he'd woke up all jacked up on the Lookout without any memory of how he'd gotten that way.

No. No, really. You had to get it. He was serious about the Goten thing. After that, after everything, he really hadn't wanted to see him, much less sleep in the same bed as him.

He had even told him when they were about to take a nap to stay the heck away from him. And Goten had cocked his head all innocent like, grinning that smile that would look awful mixed with his while he crawled closer to him, going, "Why?"

And Trunks had desperately pressed himself against the headboard, hissing, "Cuz you feel nasty."

Goten had then poked himself in the arm, his black brows (black? His unique, purple eyebrows crossed with Goten's black? How on Earth did that even work?) furrowing. "Nasty? But we just took a bath, Trunks. Together, remember? You saw how clean I got."

Like he'd needed to be reminded. Trunks had seen enough of Goten, felt enough of him, and was a little sick of him. They were too, unnaturally, unhealthily close.

"Just get away from me, Goten."

"Why? C'mon, touch me. I'm clean, I promise Trunks."

And when he'd said "touch me", it had Trunks thinking about in a different way. Cuz he could've sworn he had accidentally did when they'd converged.

One, purple eyebrow twitched. "Don't say that. It sounds weird . . . ."
The younger Saiyan had sat back for a second. "Clean? Promise? Or 'touch me?' Clean, clean, clean! Promise, promise! Touch me, touch me, touch me!"

Trunks had cringed. If someone had been listening from outside, that may've sounded a bit odd.

"Dunno, Trunks. Didn't sound weird to me."

"Well, of course not to you!" You crazy dummy. "Just keep on that side of the bed."

"Well, ok, then."

But he still found his foot being licked by somebody who was murmuring about how they loved fried chicken.

So recently, in the fate of his own wellbeing, Trunks had been avoiding Goten, which was really hard to do, actually, when you were being held hostage on the Lookout by a green giant, forced to work with the boy you were trying to escape from.

Piccolo glared at his daydreaming state. "Trunks. You're not standing close enough to Goten."

The son of Goku nodded crossing his arms. "Yeah, Trunks. I can't reach your fingers."

Well, that was the idea. "Ah, whoops, sorry."

"Well, then, get closer!"

"Oh, uh, ok."

The Namekian gave him a hard look before barking out more orders that Trunks really didn't want to participate in.

"Fuuuu . . ." Trunks stuck out both arms, moving to the left. Goten mirrored him.

"Shun!" He stood on one leg, snapping his arms to the right.

"HA!" And when he leaned to the left, both of his fingers extended, he deliberately missed Goten's fingers.

"Huh, oops. Off my game, aren't I?"

Goten frowned at him, an annoyed one which Trunks didn't even know he was capable of. "Yeah, you are! Quit messing us up; your mom thinks it's me that's holding us back!"

Piccolo, for one, looked totally overwhelmed and frustrated. "Just . . . whatever. Take your break or something . . . I'm gonna go . . . meditate." Which was practically a Namekian's Aspirin.

When he'd left, Goten got surprisingly angry. "What's the matter with you, Trunks? You do the other moves fine until we have to touch fingers! Why can't you do that, huh?"

The older Saiyan shrugged it off, all I-don't-know-what-you're-talkin'-'bout like. "I dunno . . . ."

His spiky-haired friend jabbed him in the arm. "Well, we were getting it right the other times. And then when we'd actually done it. So how come you're so bad all of a sudden?"

"Hey. I'm not bad."

"Tell me, Trunks!"

"What? No."

"You have to!"

"No, I don't! Retardo-Head."

"Stop calling me names and tell me!"

"No!"

"Please? C'mon, Trunks!"

"Nah, uh. You wouldn't understand, Goten."

Goten's face was desperate. "Trunks. Please. I know you're screwing up on purpose. Which is really unfair cuz we're doing this fusion thing to save the whole world and our families. And you're killing more people by not getting it right. So tell me."

Well, when he put it that way . . . . "Goten, I . . . ."

And then Trunks was pounced on, Goten landing roughly on his stomach, pinning his hands to the cold tiles of the Lookout.

"You will tell me, Trunks."

Well, Trunks was too busy wincing to say do anything, much less answer him.

Oh . . . Dende. He's touching me. Goten's touching me. And he's all warm. Gross. Get him off, get him off, get him off, gethimoff.

Trunks was too repulsed to move, or shove him, or something. He just weakly stammered, "Please get off, Goten. Oh, I think I'm gonna barf."

Goten narrowed his dark eyes, his breath in Trunks's face. "Not until you tell me why you're messing up on purpose."

The warmness of his friend's body was nauseating. "Please. Get . . . off, Goten!"

"Tell me!"

"If I spit up on the front of your gi, it's your fault."

"I don't care."

Trunks sighed. "Fine, darn it. Fine! I just— I don't like fusing. It's . . . disgusting."

Goten got off. "Huh. Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, we fight together, play together, and bathe together! Now we're fusing? Don't cha think that's weird? That's why I've been avoiding you."

His friend chewed his bottom lip. "You've been avoiding me?"

Dende, the boy was inattentive . . . . "Um, yeah. Cuz I think . . . we see each other too much."

"Isn't that what best friends do?" Goten asked pointedly. "They spend time with each other. A lot."

Trunks shifted his shoulders sitting up. "I guess . . . but you know, people might get different ideas . . . ."

"Like what?"

"That we're more than friends."

"We are. Best friends."

"No," Trunks hissed. "That we're like your brother and Videl."

There was an unearthly silence.

And then Goten idly scratched behind one ear. "I still don't know where you're getting at, Trunks."

Total "facepalm" just then.

"Never mind."

Trunks didn't even know what to say or do next. There was no use trying to screw with the fusion after Goten's "So Unfair, You're Killing More People" speech. And he couldn't avoid Goten while he knew he was trying to avoid him. Besides, shirking him hadn't been working out very well anyway.

So sighing, Trunks gave in to the fact that he might be stuck to Goten for the rest of his life because that particular son of Goku was hard to dodge.

"Eh, fine. Where's Piccolo? We've got some . . . fusing to do."

A/N: I thought that this was pretty cute and fun to write. Love to hear your thoughts, so review please!