Cherry: This chapter was written mainly for comic relief....even if it does start out a little, well, not happy.
Kuro: Wow, 'not happy' how descriptive. Not.
Cherry: Hush you! I told you, I used all my intelligence on the MEAs!
Kuro: Feh. it's all excuses with you, isn't it?
Cherry: But they happen to be good excuses! And true at that. Now, I don't own DBZ or the characters, just the situations I put them in. -nods-
****
He woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright. Pain, like an iron rod being jammed through his skull, surged through his head. He howled in pain and grabbed his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the shockwaves of pain to subside. Pu'ar all of a sudden came rushing in and pushed Yamcha back down, sponging a large bump on his forehead with a wet cloth. He panted as he clutched his head tighter despite Pu'ar's attempts to pry his hands away. Yamcha groaned loudly, feeling very close to throwing up. Pu'ar shushed him, stroking his face.
"There, there...just lay down, Yamcha." she whispered softly.
He flopped down again and threw a hand over his face. "Ow...what happened?"
"You don't know?" she blinked, "I just came in and....you were laying sprawled across the couch."
"Oh..." he said, rubbing his temples.
Pu'ar smiled nervously. "Have a rough night?"
"Yeah...you could say that." he muttered, "How long've I been out?" he asked.
"Hmmm…I found you just about a day ago." she said. "You were out cold, so I figured I'd let you rest. I'm glad you're up now." Her smiled turned from worried to relieved.
The deep knot in Yamcha's stomach loosened, but the feeling of nausea remained. Pu'ar smiled and turned away.
"I'm going out to the kitchen now. I think I'll make you some soup. You look hungry."
Yamcha nodded weakly as she left, his stomach chewing away at itself. the last thing he remembered was being by Bulma's side, ready to defend her; refusing to leave and then...Vegeta. His leering face, his horrible visage packed with murderous rage...he didn't want to know what had happened. He felt a shiver run through his spine just thinking about the possibilities.
He grunted, feeling very, very, very sick. He clamped a hand over his mouth as he felt a bitter taste rise up in his throat. He stumbled off the couch, making a bee-line for the bathroom. He kicked open the door and dropped down in front of the toilet, puking his guts out. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears seeping out the corners as his stomach retched heavily in an attempt to expel it's contents. He wheezed, the first wave coming to an end. He slowly opened his eyes, a blanket of horror settling in his veins. Everything...was red. It was like a crimson tide, everything covered in blood. He wiped off his chin and looked down. A carmine streak stretched across the back of his hand. This was not good. He grabbed the handle of the toilet, closing his eyes as he flushed it three times in a row. I didn't see that; it was just a hallucination. Everything will be alright when I open my eyes again...no blood. It was just a macabre illusion, he told himself. Before he could open his eyes, he felt a second wave sweep in. Once again he leaned over the bowl, retching until his sides hurt. There was no blood the second time, and he felt slightly better. There...just an hallucination. You were just imagining it all. No blood this time...nothing. It just wasn't real. No worries, he reassured himself. He flushed the toilet for the final time, standing up shakily. He stumbled back into the living room, collapsing across the couch. He moaned, feeling pain wreak havoc on his lower half. His muscles burned and ached agonizingly. Vegeta must have hit him harder than he had originally thought. He's a saiyajin; even a tap could nearly kill you. He went easy on you compared to what he *could* have done. Consider yourself lucky he only seriously bruised you pitiful bod, he thought. He opened his eyes slightly, the first sight he saw being Pu'ar's face. She looked down at him with a worried smile.
"Feeling under the weather, huh? You still want the soup?" she asked.
"Yeah...I'm fine, just a little queasy. Soup...would be good. Very good." he mumbled.
Pu'ar nodded and drifted out without a sound. He closed his eyes and sighed. He wondered what had happened after Vegeta had knocked him out. The fact he had puked up blood certainly unnerved him; it was not a good sign. He sighed again, telling himself that it had passed and Vegeta must have just hit him hard. He was fine now, but still worried. What had happened to Bulma? Was she okay? Was she hurt? Or worse, did Vegeta kill her? No, he didn't think Vegeta would stoop so low; but he did seem mad...
He sighed, exhausted. Pu'ar floated back in with a bowl of egg noodle soup, smiling kindly.
"Here you go. I hope you feel better soon." she whispered.
"So don't I..." he muttered.
Pu'ar smiled and floated down, curling up on Yamcha's lap and purring softly. He stroked her back, between taking sips of his soup. All of a sudden, he seemed more comfortable and soothed. For a fleeting moment, he had no worries. He wasn't a has-been fighter that fucked the wrong guy's wife; he was just a guy with his cat. He finished off his soup and set the bowl down on the floor next to the couch. He did feel a small pang of worry in his gut when he thought about Bulma, but he pushed it away since it wasn't really his area of business.
*
The rest of the day, he sat around and watched TV, trying not to worry about what Vegeta could do to Bulma if he got angry enough. He went up to bed early around 7:00, but at about three in the morning, there came a fierce pounding at the door. Yamcha sluggishly rolled out of bed and thromped down the stairs lazily. The knocking was becoming more aggravated and louder by the second. Yamcha thought that the door was going to be knocked off the hinges if whoever was pounding at the door kept it up. He hurriedly fumbled with the lock on the door, and when he finally got it unhooked...
::BLAM::
The door swung open forcefully, flattening Yamcha against the wall. Bulma came storming in, carrying a duffel bag full of stuff.
"I can't take it, I can't take it, I can't take it! I just can't take anymore! I can't stand him! I just can't!" she wailed, throwing her bag on the couch and sitting down next to it, sobbing loudly.
The door bounced off the wall and swung open s-l-o-w-l-y and latched shut again, Yamcha plastered to the back. He slid down slowly, flopping onto the floor very animeishly. Yamcha managed to pull himself off the floor, still half-asleep. He scratched his chin and looked at Bulma.
"Mmm…whatcha doin' 'ere?" he muttered.
"I just can't stand Vegeta anymore! I cannot be in the same house as that man!" she screeched.
"Bulma, it's..." He looked up and over at the clock on the wall. "...three in th' mornin'. It's too early in for me to help you with your problems..." he said, rubbing his eyes.
"I don't need you to solve my problems. You know the wonderful thing? I'm going to stay here, with you, for a few nights. I need some time away. Vegeta won't hurt you this time...I made sure of it."
Yamcha's eyes snapped open. "What? Stay with me? I...you can't! Where are you gonna sleep?"
"Easy. I'm going to go upstairs and sleep in your bed and we will talk more about this later on in the morning." she said casually.
"What? My house only has one bedroom, and one bed. You know, the thing I sleep in...." he said, now very much awake.
"I know. That's why you're going to be sleeping on the couch." she smiled at him.
"Wait...no. I am not sleeping on the couch. It's uncomfortable and Bulma; it's only three in the morning. Three in the morning!" he protested. "I hate the couch! It hurts my back and there's a loose spring...."
"I know. That's why I'm occupying your bed for the night."
"I am NOT sleeping on the couch! Not tonight, I have had too much stress lately and I deserve a bed, dammit!"
"You think I have not had stress? You only have the odd encounter with Vegeta, I have to live with him! I will not sleep on the couch!!!!"
The yelling match went on like that for at least a good twenty minutes before a decision was finally made....
*
"Okay. You stay on your side of the bed, and I'll stay on mine."
Bulma was laying on the left side of the bed, and Yamcha on the right, a blanket running down the center separating the boundaries of each side. Yamcha reached over coyly, poking her lightly in defiance. He giggled stupidly and jabbed her again, shaking her a bit. Bulma clenched her fists, biting her lip. After about three more pokes she slammed her hands down.
"That's it!!! From now on, there's a wall here!!! Got it???" she barked.
They remained silent for a while, before Yamcha reached over. "Wall huh? I see no wall here....." he laughed, jabbing Bulma in the ribs a few times. She swatted his hand away, getting frustrated.
"The wall is invisible, like a force-field, got it? A three-foot-thick forcefield wall!" she snapped.
"But if it's three feet thick...that would be almost the entire bed...." he pointed out.
"... ... ...Look, it's just indestructible, okay? And you may not see it, but it's there."
Yamcha smirked. "You didn't say how high it was!" he laughed, pouncing her.
"Ugh!" she bellowed, shoving him off her and onto the floor. He emerged a moment later, the wastebasket on top of his head. He pulled it off and set it back down next to the bed, pouting at her.
"Fine! Be that way!" he said in a childish manner, sticking out his tongue as he circled back around. He flopped onto his side, and they were quiet for a bit before a smile crept across Yamcha's face.
"You didn't put a ceiling either!" he said, reaching over and shoving her playfully. She retaliated with a painful slap to his wrist again.
"There is a wall here, a wall here and a ceiling on top!" she declared, making motions with her hands to indicate the sides and ceiling of her invisible box.
Yamcha jabbed at her with his index finger. "You need air holes to breathe!"
"No air-holes! Did I say anything about air holes? No. So there aren't any!"
"You can't breathe...you have to hold your breath..."
"It's filled with oxygen!"
"You'll have to breathe it all eventually..."
"Fine! There is no walls, no box, nothing!"
Yamcha grinned, shaking her, jabbing her, and shoving her. He was becoming increasingly frisky as he sniggered lustfully. Bulma slapped him in the face and forcefully pushed his arm away.
"Keep your damned hands to home!" she demanded.
Yamcha was quiet for a moment before he smirked and began nudging her with his foot, running it up and down her soft legs. She sighed heavily again and closed her eyes.
"Unless you'd like to end up a modern-day castrato, I'd suggest you leave me alone and go the hell to sleep." she said calmly. Yamcha stopped, drawing his foot back slowly and timidly. He rolled onto his side and stared at the ceiling with wide eyes.
"Well then...have a nice rest." Yamcha asked, still glaze-eyed.
Bulma smirked. "Good night and see you when I wake up."
****
Cherry: Ah, don't you remember the days when you were dragged on long car rides with younger siblings and had to tell them there was an invisible wall to get them to quit poking you?
Kuro: This chapter is pointless and stupid.
Cherry: it was more of a filler chapter anyways. But then again, that's what happens when you have MEAs and have to leave the chapter writing to your younger sister......
Kuro: -shudders- Urrg....please promise you won't do that ever again?
Cherry: -reads the filler chapter- Ugh, I promise the next chapters will be 100% me-produced. I swear it.