Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Time's Lessons Learned ❯ Sharpener's Time ( Chapter 8 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Time's Lessons Learned

Answer Time

Summary: What does Sharpener think of Gohan, and can he find the chance to talk privately with Future Trunks?

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z, Akira Toriyama does. This story is based on the doujinshi Our Time by Manya and Minea. Thanks to Lord Truhania at Boxer and Rice http://www.goha for help and encouragement of this story.

***


Throughout the rest of the day, Gohan reigned in his runaway emotions. The spectrum ranged from hot infrared frustration to the ultraviolet high energies of sexual desire. Hidden frequencies locked away now increased in amplitude only seen in the peak of adolescence. Although he had fooled around a bit with Videl, the arousal he had for her paled in comparison to what rushed his blood at fever pitch now.

Not sure of whether to damn Trunks or smother him with kisses. Gohan stumbled through his last period. He was thankful for the physical education release, though he had to hold back when hitting the ball with a light tap that still caused a home run advantage. Sharpener had thrown a towel at Gohan's flushed face just as they entered the locker room shower, cutting off his vision.

"Hey!" he had choked, brushing the offending terrycloth aside. Sharpener smirked an expression worthy of Vegeta, freaking him out.

"You with us, Nerd?" he asked.

"No comment," Gohan glared at sharpener. "After that little stunt today you'd better reign it in!"

"You on teacher's side? Wanting to become the teacher's pet?" Sharpener winked at him.

"Shut up Sharpener. Don't push me. I'm not having a good day, you know," Gohan growled.

"Whoa, whoa, settle down," Sharpener backed away, spooked by the fierceness in Gohan's face. "I was just teasing!"

"You think I LIKE being singled out in class any more then you do, Sharpener?" Gohan asked, slamming his locker door open. He tugged out boxers and other garments, hastily dressing.

"So that's why you're so pissy. Figures. At least I'm not the only one embarrassed by mister Drill sergeant Nasty," Sharpener commiserated. Gohan heaved a huge sigh of relief, glad that the blonde had taken the bait.

"Any more then you liked holding a pail in the hall, Sharpener," Gohan agreed, tugging up his boxers. He smirked a bit when he felt the heat of Sharpener's gaze on his backside. Let the guy have a look. It was flattering to think that Sharpener really WAS ogling him. It would explain why the jock was so insistent on teasing him.

"Well that teacher has another thing coming if he thinks he can push me around. He'd better not do anything to take me from the baseball season or football, or else Coach Eyeshield will give him hell," Sharpener cautioned, preening himself in the mirror. He saw Gohan glancing over at him with a small smile, and felt his heart skip a beat. Slowly he flexed the muscles in his back, hoping to show off.

Gohan laughed at the obvious attempt to get a mutual ogle and threw a towel at Sharpener's head. "If anything your GPA won't be in any danger of plummeting faster then your boxer shorts when you hit the shower."

"You'd enjoy that wouldn't you?" Sharpener said as he moved over and made a mock kissing sound near Gohan's ear.

"Maybe, if I was interested," Gohan whispered back, and then Sharpener felt a slap on his shoulder that was rather firm. What he thought would freak the poor nerd out had only given the opposite result.

"What was that? You don't know what you're missing nerd boy," Sharpener glared back.

"I'm going home," Gohan said, pulling on his shirt. Back facing the fuming Sharpener, he buttoned it up, suddenly realizing he had started it unevenly and had to redo it.

"Jerk," Sharpener pulled a face, yanking his wife-beater shirt on. "He doesn't know when he has it good."

Still Sharpener didn't feel as if he wanted to give up. So Gohan wasn't interested, was he? Well perhaps if he could see WHAT he was missing, then he'd change his mind. Either that, or his suspicions were very much founded in reality. It had to be because of that teacher. Sharpener may have the advantage of brawn over brains, but he was no imbecile. Rather the opposite; for Sharpener felt as if something was horning in on his 'territory'. Gohan was his project, not some young handsome intellectual who liked to push students around.


***

Leaving the locker room behind him, Gohan felt the coolness of the air evaporating the water from his skin nicely. It aided in quelling the nervous hot sensations flooding his body with strange tingles hundreds of times that when Videl would look his way. While it was interesting that Sharpener just made a pass at him, he had no interest in the jock. Sure he was nice to look at, but Gohan's mind only wanted to focus on the sharp dressed man who had landed abruptly back into his life.

Yet what would he do when he confronted Trunks face to face? Surely there would be some way to talk to him without fear of reprisal. If Future Trunks intended what Gohan suspected in his gut, the opportunity might just literally fall in his lap. Occupied by all these thoughts he strode down the halls towards the exit. To reach it he passed by the door to the teacher's lounge opposite the cafeteria.

Shadows moved behind the opaque glass window covered in black letters. The doorknob clicked, swinging the door to in the busy hallway. Gohan dodged around the door spilling several well dressed faculties into the stream already moving thickly with students going home for the day. Among those two piece suits of dove gray, plaid and herringbone the tan fawn suit stood out, along with its lavender haired owner moving towards him.

"Oh man, what do I say, what do I do?" Gohan panicked, stopping dead where he stood. Like a deer staked out by a predator he froze in place motionless out of instinct. Students simply walked around him on either side as Mr. Briefs swam through the thick of them to arrive at Gohan's side.

"Mr. Son, good to see you. I'd been hoping to catch you before you went home," Future Trunks said in that same crisp professional tone, warmed with a hint of polite pleasantness.

"Yes T... Mr. Briefs," Gohan answered, staring straight ahead with ramrod stiff posture.

"At ease, Mr. Son. This isn't military school. I made up a list of tutors for my class and figured you'd be perfect," Mr. Briefs said, snapping the clasps on his briefcase while resting it on one hip.

Still not looking at him, Gohan said, "Sir?"

"You don't have a problem with that, do you, Mr. Son?" asked Trunks with a slight smile. The mask of professionalism shielded everything except the hopeful twinkle in his blue gaze. Once clean hands felt clammy again with renewed sweat, and Gohan felt the steady climb of his temperature.

"No... but it's rather... sudden," Gohan swallowed hard, his voice unsteady.

"I thought you should have my number and address if you have any questions or need to meet about the particulars," Mr. Briefs said matter of fact. Rife with double entendre, the two danced verbally, each anticipating what the other would next voice.

"Today?" Gohan asked, voice low as he glanced from side to side. Under a microscope he felt, ready for the scrutiny of every student who might stare and point at him. Yet he realized no students glanced in their direction for more then a split second before returning to their lockers or heading out the door. Other professors were catching other students in mid trip out the door and handing over business cards.

"If that would fit into your schedule. I know you students are very busy..." Future Trunks nodded. It was so transparent to Gohan, especially with the pleading look in Trunks blue eyes, struggling to keep up a professional front yet wanting more.

In his gut Gohan felt the need that matched his own. He had to find out for himself as soon as he could why Future Trunks was here. Something told him time was of the essence now more then ever. Between two fingers Future Trunks a.k.a. Mr. Briefs offered a business card printed with neat black lettering on lavender card stock. Gohan tentatively extended his hand and reached for it. Fingers brushed with a quick jolting shock that projected blue energy behind Gohan's eyes. The entire atmosphere tingled with Trunks Ki, barely suppressed but wafting him over him invisibly, questing for something more.

It had worked in the class, Gohan thought. Perhaps he could try again. Focussing hard he then looked Trunks square in the eyes, dark black sinking into cerulean. "You need to see me, don't you?"

Blue electricity sparked the gap. Drowning in that cool refreshing blue, Gohan felt placid calm douse him. That fever that shivered his muscles temporarily steadied standing in his presence. Clear thoughts answered, "Yes, Gohan. I've waited a long time. We need to talk."

The thoughts were inside his mind in a split instant as he weighed them, for he found himself hearing Future Trunks say aloud, "I really could use your help. The sooner we work out a schedule, the faster you can help the students."

Without hesitation Gohan answered, "All right then, you've got my attention. I'll see what I can work out."

"Good. I'm glad," Future Trunks nodded, smiling warmly. Reaching out he clasped Gohan's hand in his own. The firmness of his hand shaking the other seemed a poor substitute for all the things suddenly flooding into Gohan's fertile imagination. Palms and fingers fully touching for the first time, the jolt of live ki tingled far greater and reached far deeper into a hunger that Gohan hardly realized he possessed. Although it was a small surge of Trunks ki, it felt deliciously warm and inviting.

Gohan answered it with a pulse of his own. He realized he didn't want to let go, but reluctantly missed the warmth of Trunks hand releasing his and stepping back. Gone was the comfort of his aura washing over Gohan's, opening a large gaping vacuum that ached in Gohan's chest. Through ki, a strange intimacy of greeting like a kiss or a hug had been a substitute for he physical contact he craved. Glancing at Trunks tanned skin he felt the urge to taste those lips, and inhale the scent of that silky soft hair.

"I'll see you later. You'll call me to let me know when we can meet and iron out the details?" Mr. Briefs asked, now standing a foot away.

"Yes. I'll call as soon as I let mom know where I am," said Gohan quickly. With a last glance at Trunks smiling face he rushed out of the building. Suddenly he felt very naked and bare in his emotions now revealed through the ki exchange. Open to scrutiny and afraid of someone having seen them, he knew it would have only appeared as an innocent teacher student discussion. In reality it was the fear of loosing the chance to see for himself if his suppositions years ago were false or true.

***

With a click Gohan replaced the receiver of the pay phone. The change he had deposited jingled down into the heart of the machine, then hit the bottom of the coin box with a definitive thud. It sounded the end of one period of his life, and the beginning of the new. Inside the glass booth he felt a measure of safety from the confrontation to come. Mom had been refreshingly understanding when Gohan announced he had a teacher conference about a tutoring job. She wholeheartedly agreed it was a great opportunity, releasing him from the guilt of not returning home for a family dinner.

Shadows diagonally fell across Gohan's path along the walkway to the twenty-story apartment complex. Sheathed in glass on one side and brick along the other two he could see, it dwarfed the townhouses around it. Only the high spherical towers a few blocks away reached its height. Shielding his eyes with his hands Gohan leaned back slightly to bring the top into view. Other hand holding the card with the address he then peered down at it to confirm the number. Apartment 19 C it said. The building wasn't a mere column with sphere on top, rather it was a non traditional rectangle with two side wings that were smaller rectangles. Christened Capsule Towers, it was a place where many employees of the Satan City Capsule branch lived.

"Figures he'd live here. Well at least it isn't Capsule Corps. Somehow that would make this even more awkward," Gohan murmured to himself.

Tentatively he continued down the walkway, stepping over every crack. While he wasn't superstitious he felt the sudden need to continue his self control lest he jinx this upcoming confrontation. The last thing he needed was an irked mother disparaging him from reuniting with an old friend. Although the light reflected off the glass windows had deepened from white to a gold hue, he could still see the sun gleaming off the glass and beaming its reflection down into the street below. the first few stories of the building were a parking deck and promenade of shops, indicating a gated entry and concierge. The closer he approached the main circular drive, the more Gohan's shadow was swallowed up by the huge one cast by the skyscraper.

Even wearing his blue capsule corps jacket Gohan felt a bit out of place. Fortunately he was far more nicely dressed then most high school students, which earned him an affirming nod from the doorman standing near the awning. "Evening sir," he touched his cap.

"Good Evening. I'm here to visit someone please," Gohan said, holding out the card.

"You can page him at the front desk. Have a nice evening," the doorman smiled, glancing down at the business card Gohan held only briefly. He waved Gohan through with an encouraging smile, glancing appreciatively at Gohan's clothes.

"Well mom, I guess you were right about being dressed for success," Gohan chuckled to himself, walking through the door that was held open wide for him. Across the threshold he stepped into a rather wealthy world for a high school teacher. While he knew Orange Star High was one of the better schools, most of its employees wouldn't be able to afford an apartment in a condominium like this unless they had money or connections.

Underfoot the thick carpet yielded softly to his polished shoes. Gohan approached the concierge, who asked for identification. The maroon suited personnel all were neatly groomed, reminding him of a hotel. Like with the doorman he had little trouble getting the approval of the concierge to press a button and call up to the condo. Like the other apartment units where you pressed a buzzer and waited, he still stood by the elevator to wait for the party he was visiting.

"He says go on up, Mr. Son," said the concierge politely.

"Thank you," Gohan nodded, and strode across the glossy marble floor to the oak paneled elevator doors. Even the interiors were tiled in frosted mirror, with brass handles inside. Heart pounding he rode the car to the top, and then made his way down the hall towards the apartment described to him on the card.