a/n: Wow, starting a new chapter when I just finished the first one! Kudos
to me! Even though no one read the first chapter…*sniff*. Anyway, bonus
points for people who can name the song this line came out of. Hint; it's
country. Starting to guess the theme now? Ah, country and DBZ. What a
delightful mix. In this chapter, Bulma gets dumped. Vegeta is amused.
That's about all the B/V interaction you'll get for a while.
Disclaimer: Akira Toriyama appeared to me in a dream and hit me for writing this without permission. That alone should give you the message.
Chapter Two: Gonna Give You a Lesson in Leavin' Somebody
Bulma reclined on a sofa in the main room of Capsule Corp. at seven o'clock the following evening, flipping channels on her big screen t.v. and wondering idly if she had put Yamcha through enough pain yet. She knew she really shouldn't do things like this to him, but it was so much fun! Besides, she always took him back. He knew that. Deciding that she was getting a little lonesome, and that Yamcha would probably be worried by now, she picked up the phone.
One ring, two rings, and Yamcha answered.
"Hello?" He sounded a little harassed, and a little impatient. Bulma grinned when she thought of how his tone would change when he heard who it was.
"Hi, Yamcha. It's me."
"Oh. Hello, Bulma." This was odd. He didn't sound happy to hear from her. Rather, he sounded…flat. Flat and uncaring. She pushed this abnormality aside and plunged on.
"Listen, Yamcha, I'm sorry about the whole fight thing. I really don't know what came over me. Do you forgive me?" Her voice rose in mock- anxious interrogation.
"Sure." He still sounded flat! What was going on? Oh well.
"So, do you want to go out tonight? I know a really great new restaurant!"
"No. I've got a date."
Bulma blinked in shock. WHAT!? He had a date?! Yamcha the terminally shy had a date?! No way! Bulma recovered in the only way she could.
"How about tomorrow?"
"No, Bulma. Not tomorrow, not ever again. We're through. I'm sorry." Click. Dial tone.
Bulma sat, silent and in shock, for a moment. She lowered the receiver and stared at it in disbelief. This wasn't happening. No way, no how. Yamcha couldn't dump her, it was against the rules! It wasn't fair! She was supposed to leave him, he wasn't supposed to leave her! How could this happen?
A snort of amusement penetrated her inner disbelief, and she looked up to see Vegeta standing in the doorway wearing his usual spandex shorts and a towel around his shoulders. She glared at him.
"What's so funny?"
"You, of course," he answered, unperturbed. "You look like someone hit you over the head with a brick." With this delightful insight, he left. Bulma glared after him for a moment. Jerk. However, her dislike for Vegeta could only distract her for a moment, and inevitably her mind turned back to Yamcha. How could he do this to her! It wasn't fair!
But even as she thought it, she remembered guiltily all the times she had dumped him, all the times she had checked out other guys with him around, all the times she had jumped all over him for no reason at all…she deflated as if she had been hit. Maybe it was fair, after all. The only thing she had ever done for him was pay for a few things, and now that he was a famous baseball player, he didn't need her to do that anymore. So…her thoughts followed their logical, if unhappy, progression…she had been cruel to him. Therefore, he had found another girlfriend. At this point she abandoned logic and went back to vindictiveness. Well, she hoped this new girl would be even meaner! It would serve Yamcha right if his heart got broken, and then he would come straight back to her!
Bulma entertained herself for a moment by imagining Yamcha begging her to take him back after the mystery girl had dumped him. She would stay aloof, but at last would graciously condescend to let him return. He would realize that she was the only one for him, and they would live happily ever after. The end.
Yeah, right! The mental voice of cynicism wouldn't let her hold on to that happy picture for long. The world was never that neat. In all probability this girl would prove to be more loyal that Bulma had ever been (after all, who in their right minds would want to let a prize like Yamcha, famous baseball player and all-around hunk, get away?) and they would stay together forever, or at least way too long for Bulma's peace of mind. So, she could a) wait and see how things turned out, b) give up altogether, or c) try and break them up before they got too involved. Of course, they could never know that she had anything to do with it. Mentally, Bulma scratched out options a and b. Option c it was.
* * *
Yamcha and Cesily stood together on the doorstep of her small house, blushing slightly. The movie had gone great, they had both been pleasantly surprised by how much fun they'd had, but now was different. Now was the most awkward time of the evening; the goodbye. Yamcha gulped and smoothed his hair back, his nervousness (forgotten early on) rushing back in a flood.
"Well, um, it's been really great. I had a lot of fun." He ducked his head, hoping his blush hadn't been noticed.
"Yeah, me too. Hey, do you want to come in? You can meet Dougan."
"Sure," Yamcha replied, raising his head quickly. "Who's Dougan?"
"My dog, kind've. You'll see." Cesily got the key to turn in its stiff lock and pushed the door open. They were immediately greeted by a dog. Not just any dog, however. This was a giant among dogs, a huge, gray, purebred, wire-haired Irish Wolfhound whose head came up past Yamcha's waist.
"Yo," he rumbled, his voice a deep basso growl. "Cesily, who's your friend?"
"This is Yamcha. Yamcha, Dougan."
If Cesily had been looking forward to Yamcha's shock, she was disappointed. After Pu'ar, this was nothing. After all, animals talked all the time in Yamcha's experience. What was so odd about that?
"Pleased to meet you, Dougan," he said politely, bending to offer his palm, which was given a cursory sniff and then shaken.
"I like this one," he announced after gracing Yamcha with a long, thoughtful gaze. "He has a nice smell. And steady eyes. The last one was shifty."
"I know," Cesily sighed. "That's why I only went out with him once."
Yamcha, smelling opportunity, jumped back into the conversation. "And are you going out with me more than once?" He marveled at his audacity as she turned back to him. Only a couple of nights ago, he would never even have considered using that line, even if he could have gotten it out without stuttering. It was a mark of how comfortable he felt with Cesily that he had used it now.
She graced him with a smile. "What did you have in mind?"
"Let's see…" Yamcha reviewed his schedule out loud for his girlfriend's benefit. "Baseball practice from eight 'til eleven tomorrow morning…how about lunch?"
"Sure thing. My lunch break's at eleven thirty, so that's perfect timing for me. Pick me up?"
"I would if I knew where you worked, Ces," Yamcha grinned.
"Oh, duh!" Cesily smacked herself in the forehead. "I didn't tell you, did I? I work at the city building, office number 305, corner of S. 35th and Breckenridge."
"Gotcha," Yamcha nodded in affirmation. "Office 305, corner of S. 35th and Breckenridge. I'll be there. Eleven thirty, right?"
"Right. See ya, Yamcha!"
"See ya, Ces." Yamcha slid out the door, closing it gently behind him.
"He didn't kiss you," Dougan observed with some disappointment. "And he wanted to. I could smell it. Darn."
"Oh, shut up," Cesily said, lazily tossing a pillow from the recliner at him. "Yamcha's shy. I'll probably have to kiss him if I want to get any kissing done."
"Ooo, admitting you want to kiss him, huh?" Dougan asked, oozing up onto the couch, which he totally filled all by himself.
"Shut up."
Dougan snorted, an uncannily humanlike noise, but was otherwise silent.
* * *
Outside Cesily's apartment, Yamcha slid into his car and mentally reviewed his other schedule. It was already nearly eleven, too late to train even enough to work up a good sweat and still be halfway awake for tomorrow's practice (even though he could have played the game while half asleep, he might do something stupid, like jump twenty feet into the air to catch a fly ball). He'd better just go home and get some sleep.
At the door of his apartment, Yamcha fumbled for his keys, but the door opened before he could get them out of his pocket.
"Hi, Yamcha!" Pu'ar greeted him. Even after all the years he'd known the feline shapeshifter, Yamcha still thought her voice sounded like a squeaky toy being squeezed. "How did your date go?"
"Good." Yamcha flung himself down on the couch and grinned at Pu'ar, who floated down to settle on his chest. "In fact, great! Cesily's nice, she's smart, she's funny, and she's not nearly as full of herself as Bulma. We're having lunch tomorrow."
"Excellent." Pu'ar nodded her approval. "You know you should have gotten rid of Bulma years ago. She's always making you unhappy. Cesily sounds much better."
"Not so fast," Yamcha warned her, grinning. "She's got a dog, a big Irish Wolfhound."
Pu'ar looked thoughtful. "Does he chase cats?"
"I don't know, I didn't ask him."
"Hmm. Well, if he doesn't chase cats, he's okay."
Yamcha laughed, and they lay on the couch in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Yamcha gently shoved Pu'ar off his chest and went to bed. He had a full day planned tomorrow.
* * *
Meanwhile, Vegeta trained. Yawn. Be content with this brief info, because it's probably the last you'll see of him for a few chapters.
Disclaimer: Akira Toriyama appeared to me in a dream and hit me for writing this without permission. That alone should give you the message.
Chapter Two: Gonna Give You a Lesson in Leavin' Somebody
Bulma reclined on a sofa in the main room of Capsule Corp. at seven o'clock the following evening, flipping channels on her big screen t.v. and wondering idly if she had put Yamcha through enough pain yet. She knew she really shouldn't do things like this to him, but it was so much fun! Besides, she always took him back. He knew that. Deciding that she was getting a little lonesome, and that Yamcha would probably be worried by now, she picked up the phone.
One ring, two rings, and Yamcha answered.
"Hello?" He sounded a little harassed, and a little impatient. Bulma grinned when she thought of how his tone would change when he heard who it was.
"Hi, Yamcha. It's me."
"Oh. Hello, Bulma." This was odd. He didn't sound happy to hear from her. Rather, he sounded…flat. Flat and uncaring. She pushed this abnormality aside and plunged on.
"Listen, Yamcha, I'm sorry about the whole fight thing. I really don't know what came over me. Do you forgive me?" Her voice rose in mock- anxious interrogation.
"Sure." He still sounded flat! What was going on? Oh well.
"So, do you want to go out tonight? I know a really great new restaurant!"
"No. I've got a date."
Bulma blinked in shock. WHAT!? He had a date?! Yamcha the terminally shy had a date?! No way! Bulma recovered in the only way she could.
"How about tomorrow?"
"No, Bulma. Not tomorrow, not ever again. We're through. I'm sorry." Click. Dial tone.
Bulma sat, silent and in shock, for a moment. She lowered the receiver and stared at it in disbelief. This wasn't happening. No way, no how. Yamcha couldn't dump her, it was against the rules! It wasn't fair! She was supposed to leave him, he wasn't supposed to leave her! How could this happen?
A snort of amusement penetrated her inner disbelief, and she looked up to see Vegeta standing in the doorway wearing his usual spandex shorts and a towel around his shoulders. She glared at him.
"What's so funny?"
"You, of course," he answered, unperturbed. "You look like someone hit you over the head with a brick." With this delightful insight, he left. Bulma glared after him for a moment. Jerk. However, her dislike for Vegeta could only distract her for a moment, and inevitably her mind turned back to Yamcha. How could he do this to her! It wasn't fair!
But even as she thought it, she remembered guiltily all the times she had dumped him, all the times she had checked out other guys with him around, all the times she had jumped all over him for no reason at all…she deflated as if she had been hit. Maybe it was fair, after all. The only thing she had ever done for him was pay for a few things, and now that he was a famous baseball player, he didn't need her to do that anymore. So…her thoughts followed their logical, if unhappy, progression…she had been cruel to him. Therefore, he had found another girlfriend. At this point she abandoned logic and went back to vindictiveness. Well, she hoped this new girl would be even meaner! It would serve Yamcha right if his heart got broken, and then he would come straight back to her!
Bulma entertained herself for a moment by imagining Yamcha begging her to take him back after the mystery girl had dumped him. She would stay aloof, but at last would graciously condescend to let him return. He would realize that she was the only one for him, and they would live happily ever after. The end.
Yeah, right! The mental voice of cynicism wouldn't let her hold on to that happy picture for long. The world was never that neat. In all probability this girl would prove to be more loyal that Bulma had ever been (after all, who in their right minds would want to let a prize like Yamcha, famous baseball player and all-around hunk, get away?) and they would stay together forever, or at least way too long for Bulma's peace of mind. So, she could a) wait and see how things turned out, b) give up altogether, or c) try and break them up before they got too involved. Of course, they could never know that she had anything to do with it. Mentally, Bulma scratched out options a and b. Option c it was.
* * *
Yamcha and Cesily stood together on the doorstep of her small house, blushing slightly. The movie had gone great, they had both been pleasantly surprised by how much fun they'd had, but now was different. Now was the most awkward time of the evening; the goodbye. Yamcha gulped and smoothed his hair back, his nervousness (forgotten early on) rushing back in a flood.
"Well, um, it's been really great. I had a lot of fun." He ducked his head, hoping his blush hadn't been noticed.
"Yeah, me too. Hey, do you want to come in? You can meet Dougan."
"Sure," Yamcha replied, raising his head quickly. "Who's Dougan?"
"My dog, kind've. You'll see." Cesily got the key to turn in its stiff lock and pushed the door open. They were immediately greeted by a dog. Not just any dog, however. This was a giant among dogs, a huge, gray, purebred, wire-haired Irish Wolfhound whose head came up past Yamcha's waist.
"Yo," he rumbled, his voice a deep basso growl. "Cesily, who's your friend?"
"This is Yamcha. Yamcha, Dougan."
If Cesily had been looking forward to Yamcha's shock, she was disappointed. After Pu'ar, this was nothing. After all, animals talked all the time in Yamcha's experience. What was so odd about that?
"Pleased to meet you, Dougan," he said politely, bending to offer his palm, which was given a cursory sniff and then shaken.
"I like this one," he announced after gracing Yamcha with a long, thoughtful gaze. "He has a nice smell. And steady eyes. The last one was shifty."
"I know," Cesily sighed. "That's why I only went out with him once."
Yamcha, smelling opportunity, jumped back into the conversation. "And are you going out with me more than once?" He marveled at his audacity as she turned back to him. Only a couple of nights ago, he would never even have considered using that line, even if he could have gotten it out without stuttering. It was a mark of how comfortable he felt with Cesily that he had used it now.
She graced him with a smile. "What did you have in mind?"
"Let's see…" Yamcha reviewed his schedule out loud for his girlfriend's benefit. "Baseball practice from eight 'til eleven tomorrow morning…how about lunch?"
"Sure thing. My lunch break's at eleven thirty, so that's perfect timing for me. Pick me up?"
"I would if I knew where you worked, Ces," Yamcha grinned.
"Oh, duh!" Cesily smacked herself in the forehead. "I didn't tell you, did I? I work at the city building, office number 305, corner of S. 35th and Breckenridge."
"Gotcha," Yamcha nodded in affirmation. "Office 305, corner of S. 35th and Breckenridge. I'll be there. Eleven thirty, right?"
"Right. See ya, Yamcha!"
"See ya, Ces." Yamcha slid out the door, closing it gently behind him.
"He didn't kiss you," Dougan observed with some disappointment. "And he wanted to. I could smell it. Darn."
"Oh, shut up," Cesily said, lazily tossing a pillow from the recliner at him. "Yamcha's shy. I'll probably have to kiss him if I want to get any kissing done."
"Ooo, admitting you want to kiss him, huh?" Dougan asked, oozing up onto the couch, which he totally filled all by himself.
"Shut up."
Dougan snorted, an uncannily humanlike noise, but was otherwise silent.
* * *
Outside Cesily's apartment, Yamcha slid into his car and mentally reviewed his other schedule. It was already nearly eleven, too late to train even enough to work up a good sweat and still be halfway awake for tomorrow's practice (even though he could have played the game while half asleep, he might do something stupid, like jump twenty feet into the air to catch a fly ball). He'd better just go home and get some sleep.
At the door of his apartment, Yamcha fumbled for his keys, but the door opened before he could get them out of his pocket.
"Hi, Yamcha!" Pu'ar greeted him. Even after all the years he'd known the feline shapeshifter, Yamcha still thought her voice sounded like a squeaky toy being squeezed. "How did your date go?"
"Good." Yamcha flung himself down on the couch and grinned at Pu'ar, who floated down to settle on his chest. "In fact, great! Cesily's nice, she's smart, she's funny, and she's not nearly as full of herself as Bulma. We're having lunch tomorrow."
"Excellent." Pu'ar nodded her approval. "You know you should have gotten rid of Bulma years ago. She's always making you unhappy. Cesily sounds much better."
"Not so fast," Yamcha warned her, grinning. "She's got a dog, a big Irish Wolfhound."
Pu'ar looked thoughtful. "Does he chase cats?"
"I don't know, I didn't ask him."
"Hmm. Well, if he doesn't chase cats, he's okay."
Yamcha laughed, and they lay on the couch in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Yamcha gently shoved Pu'ar off his chest and went to bed. He had a full day planned tomorrow.
* * *
Meanwhile, Vegeta trained. Yawn. Be content with this brief info, because it's probably the last you'll see of him for a few chapters.