(A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, or any of the senshi.though I wish I
did. (As I'm sure we all do!) I do, however, own the love of Tien and
Yamucha! Mine! Mine! MINE! (I forgot to write this in the first chapter.
gomen nasai! T_T )
Oh, and one thing before I continue: this was so horribly boring for me to write, all alone in my room. so I decided to cause some mischief.don't ask. So, read on, and be patient for better chapters. I'm still writing, and I'm trying to keep my stories pure (a difficult task, as my mind persists in trying to release a flood of yaoi-ness. I'm trying to restrain them! Only shounen-ai should emerge!). Also, because italics don't work for me (Why? WHY?!), I'll use slashes before and after the word or phrase that's supposed to be italicized.)
"Sotto wo Onna"
Chapter 2: Awakening
When I wake up, I can't help but to feel grateful for the sunlight that so rudely penetrates my eyelids. I'm alive, and there's someone in the next room who actually /cares/ that I'm alive. I glance at the green shirt still wrapped around my wrists. As I unwind it, I struggle to keep my sounds of pain down, my skin being pulled away with the garment. I realize that it's been ripped in half to cover them, so I remind myself to let Tien borrow something of mine.
I stretch, cracking as many bones in my spine as possible. 'If Tien hasn't woken up yet, the noise will do it,' I think, looking down at my pillows.
There's a wet spot on them. I put a finger to my eyes, expecting to feel puffiness from crying. 'Do I cry in my sleep?' No, it's from my hair, which hasn't been washed in over a week. The rest of me hasn't either, for that matter. I blush, suddenly, remembering that Tien performed CPR on me. my disgusting, sweaty self.
I rip the sheets off the bed, gather them into a ball, and make the journey to the laundry room. To get there, I pass through the living room, where Tien is still sleeping. One of his long arms is hanging over the edge of the bed, the other clutching a blanket he's managed to find among this mess. His nose is whistling. I smile. 'Maybe that's what woke me up.' I shrug. maybe.
I toss the sheets and pillowcases into the wash, and go back into my room to air out my pillows and mattress. I lift them easily, balancing the pillows on my head. I place them just outside the back door, and prepare my bath.
I strip off my clothing and turn on the showerhead, glad that I bought the separate water system so I can bathe and do the laundry at the same time. The second the water touches me, it feels like I'm still clothed. I look down. /no/. I'm undressed. I realize that the sweat and grime that's been building up for the past week has clamped onto me like another set of clothes. Soap quickly takes care of that. As I scrub my face, I notice that there's /fuzz/ on my chin and upper-lip.
Eew.
Ah, well, that can be dealt with later.
Mmm. apple-scented shampoo. my favourite; that washes away the gunk and filth embedded onto my skull.
I pause in my scouring and remember: /it was Bulma's favourite scent, too./ I rinse the offending stuff off and start over with a plain, gross-smelling salon kind. The falseness in its scent bothers me, but not as much as a reminder of /her./
I'm done. It's time to relax. I find my tape player where I last left it: beside the bathtub. "What's in it?" I ask aloud, speaking rhetorically. Some old tape I bought about a year ago.
I get into the tub; its boiling hot water burning off any bacteria that the soap misses. I chuckle to myself thinking: 'My ass is on fire.' I push "play" on the cassette player. "I'm Too Sexy" comes on.
There seems to be a theme today.
~*~
"I'm a model. you know what I mean!
And I do my little turn on the catwalk!"
That's what /I/ wake up to. That stupid song is coming from the bathroom. Yamucha's in there, singing to the translated version.
I remember the fact that I'm shirtless when I wake up. I give a mental shrug. It doesn't matter.
My stomach growls. /Breakfast/ is what matters right now.
The dishes haven't been cleaned or used yet, so I assume he hasn't eaten. I wash them, and get breakfast ready. His fridge is practically empty except for eggs.
Eggs it is, then.
Does Yamucha have no /vegetables?/ There's so much damn /protein/ at his place!
He's still in the bathroom when I've finished. that dumb song is over, though.
/THANK KAMI./
I'm reminded suddenly of our training with Kami. It was the most boring experience I've /ever/ encountered. /we learned NO new attacks!/ Chiaotzu complained in private to me. He was probably the most disappointed of the five of us.
/Chiaotzu./ I reach out to him with my mind, the amount of land I have to cover not an obstacle. He's awake now, too. I can tell he's glad to hear from me.
'*Is Yamucha all right?*' he asks, concerned.
'*He's fine,*' I tell him. '*Listen, Chiaotzu, I want you to start heading over to Muten-Roshi's house now, okay?*'
'*Oh, but I wanted to stay with you,*' he sulks. '*And Muten-Roshi is really. you know. /hentai-oriented./*'
I smile. '*Don't worry. Just stay away from that room this time, okay? And tell him what's going on with Yamucha. He'll understand.*'
'*Oh, /fine./ If you say so, Tien.*'
'*I insist.*'
The link is broken, and I warm up the eggs again in my energy-filled hands. 'What's taking him so long?'
My mind instantly grabs a hold of the most reasonable explanation: /attempt number two./
Oh, and one thing before I continue: this was so horribly boring for me to write, all alone in my room. so I decided to cause some mischief.don't ask. So, read on, and be patient for better chapters. I'm still writing, and I'm trying to keep my stories pure (a difficult task, as my mind persists in trying to release a flood of yaoi-ness. I'm trying to restrain them! Only shounen-ai should emerge!). Also, because italics don't work for me (Why? WHY?!), I'll use slashes before and after the word or phrase that's supposed to be italicized.)
"Sotto wo Onna"
Chapter 2: Awakening
When I wake up, I can't help but to feel grateful for the sunlight that so rudely penetrates my eyelids. I'm alive, and there's someone in the next room who actually /cares/ that I'm alive. I glance at the green shirt still wrapped around my wrists. As I unwind it, I struggle to keep my sounds of pain down, my skin being pulled away with the garment. I realize that it's been ripped in half to cover them, so I remind myself to let Tien borrow something of mine.
I stretch, cracking as many bones in my spine as possible. 'If Tien hasn't woken up yet, the noise will do it,' I think, looking down at my pillows.
There's a wet spot on them. I put a finger to my eyes, expecting to feel puffiness from crying. 'Do I cry in my sleep?' No, it's from my hair, which hasn't been washed in over a week. The rest of me hasn't either, for that matter. I blush, suddenly, remembering that Tien performed CPR on me. my disgusting, sweaty self.
I rip the sheets off the bed, gather them into a ball, and make the journey to the laundry room. To get there, I pass through the living room, where Tien is still sleeping. One of his long arms is hanging over the edge of the bed, the other clutching a blanket he's managed to find among this mess. His nose is whistling. I smile. 'Maybe that's what woke me up.' I shrug. maybe.
I toss the sheets and pillowcases into the wash, and go back into my room to air out my pillows and mattress. I lift them easily, balancing the pillows on my head. I place them just outside the back door, and prepare my bath.
I strip off my clothing and turn on the showerhead, glad that I bought the separate water system so I can bathe and do the laundry at the same time. The second the water touches me, it feels like I'm still clothed. I look down. /no/. I'm undressed. I realize that the sweat and grime that's been building up for the past week has clamped onto me like another set of clothes. Soap quickly takes care of that. As I scrub my face, I notice that there's /fuzz/ on my chin and upper-lip.
Eew.
Ah, well, that can be dealt with later.
Mmm. apple-scented shampoo. my favourite; that washes away the gunk and filth embedded onto my skull.
I pause in my scouring and remember: /it was Bulma's favourite scent, too./ I rinse the offending stuff off and start over with a plain, gross-smelling salon kind. The falseness in its scent bothers me, but not as much as a reminder of /her./
I'm done. It's time to relax. I find my tape player where I last left it: beside the bathtub. "What's in it?" I ask aloud, speaking rhetorically. Some old tape I bought about a year ago.
I get into the tub; its boiling hot water burning off any bacteria that the soap misses. I chuckle to myself thinking: 'My ass is on fire.' I push "play" on the cassette player. "I'm Too Sexy" comes on.
There seems to be a theme today.
~*~
"I'm a model. you know what I mean!
And I do my little turn on the catwalk!"
That's what /I/ wake up to. That stupid song is coming from the bathroom. Yamucha's in there, singing to the translated version.
I remember the fact that I'm shirtless when I wake up. I give a mental shrug. It doesn't matter.
My stomach growls. /Breakfast/ is what matters right now.
The dishes haven't been cleaned or used yet, so I assume he hasn't eaten. I wash them, and get breakfast ready. His fridge is practically empty except for eggs.
Eggs it is, then.
Does Yamucha have no /vegetables?/ There's so much damn /protein/ at his place!
He's still in the bathroom when I've finished. that dumb song is over, though.
/THANK KAMI./
I'm reminded suddenly of our training with Kami. It was the most boring experience I've /ever/ encountered. /we learned NO new attacks!/ Chiaotzu complained in private to me. He was probably the most disappointed of the five of us.
/Chiaotzu./ I reach out to him with my mind, the amount of land I have to cover not an obstacle. He's awake now, too. I can tell he's glad to hear from me.
'*Is Yamucha all right?*' he asks, concerned.
'*He's fine,*' I tell him. '*Listen, Chiaotzu, I want you to start heading over to Muten-Roshi's house now, okay?*'
'*Oh, but I wanted to stay with you,*' he sulks. '*And Muten-Roshi is really. you know. /hentai-oriented./*'
I smile. '*Don't worry. Just stay away from that room this time, okay? And tell him what's going on with Yamucha. He'll understand.*'
'*Oh, /fine./ If you say so, Tien.*'
'*I insist.*'
The link is broken, and I warm up the eggs again in my energy-filled hands. 'What's taking him so long?'
My mind instantly grabs a hold of the most reasonable explanation: /attempt number two./