Music of the Night
Chapter: 8
Subtitle: Déjà Vu
Author: Trixie-chan
Genre: Romance/Humor
Rating: PG-13/R
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z.
Author's Note: Time for the next chapter—I'm sure you have wanted to read about Veggie-boy and all of that. ;) His part in the beginning is rather short (meaning he doesn't get an entire chapter dedicated to his recent goings on as Bulma did because, frankly, it was nothing extremely interesting), but that means that they meet again in this chapter and that can only mean good times shall happen.
Anyway, enjoy! Please review if you enjoyed it, or if you didn't. I'm pretty happy with the writing in most of this chapter, not gonna lie!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Vegeta rolled out of bed, stretching and slightly reliving the night before. Of course he had sent the groupie packing when they were finished—other than record and concert sales, they only served one purpose. It was quite pleasing to have the little twits at his beck and call. He was just thankful that he could toss them out afterward because, other than sex, they were useless. Vapid, vacant pools of blithering idiocy—all of them. It was usually the ones that were one IQ point shy of mental retardation that cam bustling their way to him in their low-cut shirts and high-cut skirts. He knew why, of course: no self-respecting educated woman would come wearing that nor would they degrade themselves for his sexual gratification and nothing else.
Not that he cared. In his experience, the vapid ones were the best in bed—the most unreserved. He wasn't looking for a relationship and neither were they. The smart ones, smartly, stayed away. They knew his reputation and they knew to avoid it. The others didn't. They reveled in being his plaything.
He wandered into his bathroom to relieve himself and prepare himself for the day ahead. Today was his final Farewell Tour stop. He had to be to the concert hall for final rehearsal in half an hour.
His life in Japan—other than the fame, the girls, and the money—was not much to speak of. He expanded his fan base extensively, made lots of money, and bedded many Japanese women who wanted to be with the bad-boy American. It was almost better before he learned the language because he had an excuse not to actually talk to them...
It was in Japan, however, that he found his next step. He had gotten to help produce one of his own albums, and he fell in love with it. He decided that he would do a final tour and then make his own producing company back in the States.
Although he didn't acknowledge it, there was another reason for his return...
He shook his head to clear out last night and the morning's pondering. He had a final show to prepare for.
~*~*~
"I can't believe that you're making me do this..." Bulma commented, tightening her crossed arms even more. Trixie just looked back at her, rolled her eyes, and smiled.
They were heading backstage after Vegeta's final concert. It was a good concert, Bulma had to admit. She had to beg and plead with Trixie not to sit in the first row as had been planned—she didn't want him to see her, and the two familiar girls (particularly the on with blue hair) in the front row not nearly as enthusiastic as everyone else would stick out like a sore thumb. She didn't want to distract him. She'd rather he not even know she was there, but with backstage passes, that was a futile hope.
She noticed that he no longer pulled girls up on the stage, and the major ballad was no longer at the end. He seemed to now prefer ending his shows with a bang. This fit more with his new "bad boy" persona he seemed to have taken on.
Whatever. She didn't care.
She scoffed as the guards didn't even look at their passes when they let him into the backstage hallway. Obviously they were used to just letting in strange, attractive women all of the time.
*Pig,* she thought with a sadness she didn't care to recognize.
As they continued down the hall, she tried to school her features into the usual blank, somewhat peeved façade she was always able to switch into easily. With so much anxiety, it was a hard task to accomplish.
The guard outside of Vegeta's dressing room—the stereotypical over-muscled, bald brute with an angry, thoughtless face—opened the door for them and nodded his head as if accepting them for entry. They stood inside the door and glanced around the empty simply-appointed room. There was a plush couch opposite the mirror-filled wall. All except one section of the shelving underneath the mirrors were filled with flowers of so many sorts Bulma could hardly separate them all in her mind.
"Déjà vu, eh?" Trixie commented, smirking over at Bulma.
The blue-haired woman rolled her eyes and, since no one was forthcoming, wandered over to the flowers to investigate the cards. She frowned as she read superfluous little love notes like, "Hope to see you soon, Shnoogums ;)," "You rocked my world last week!" and "Call me and I'll do that thing you like." Some of them were so vulgar that she couldn't read more than a few words before she had to stifle a gag and move to a new card.
They heard a door open from behind a wall at the back of the room that was most likely another small hallway. Bulma looked up from the flowers, her heart pounding. She dropped into a chair near the door and prepared herself, her arms folded over her chest.
Déjà vu indeed. He walked into the room with a towel around his neck just as he had five years prior. The absolute shock and surprise that flashed across his face for a split second was so complete that Bulma's breath caught in her throat. Then again, that could have been at her own shock of seeing him in person again after so long.
Auto pilot. She had to go blank. Reveal nothing.
~*~*~
Vegeta thought that he was hallucinating after he rounded the corner into the main sitting area of his dressing room. He tried to keep the shock off of his features, but he knew that it had slipped through at least a little. The girl in front of the hall door looked like the one from before—Chris' bitch. Tippy or something? Not that it mattered. She had a somewhat giddy smile on her face. Weird.
The other... the other he remembered very well. How could he forget her? Not that he cared to admit it, but he had had plenty of dreams that the blue-haired wraith of his past had haunted. She was more beautiful than he remembered.
Bulma.
She was dressed casually, yet still with a breath-taking beauty that transcended her attire, in a light blue button up top with three-quarter sleeves and dark brown somewhat baggy cargo pants. Her hair was perfectly straight and tumbled like a river a few inches over her shoulders.
You don't care. She's just another bitch. Maybe I can get a blow job out of her, he thought, shirking thoughts of pleasantries and happy memories from his head and trying to bring out his dark side once again. He tore his gaze from her—though it only lasted for probably a few seconds, it seemed to last too long for his comfort level. His eyes fell on the smiley friend.
"What's up?" he queried casually. "It's been a while."
"Yes it has," the woman replied as she continued to smile stupidly. "Trixie," she reminded him, "and I'm sure you remember Bulma."
He glanced at her. Her face was stoney and cold. "Yes. What brings you here?"
Trixie quirked her head. "Oh, you know... Heard you were in town, my agent got me tickets... We figured we would check up on you—see how you were doing since you got back."
"I'm fine." He looked at her. She fidgeted a little.
"Oh... so... how's your boy Chris?" Trixie said. She was trying her damnedest to start a conversation.
"We parted ways in Japan. He's his little Japanese pop singer's agent now." Once again he looked at her, blocking another conversational road.
"I see..." She looked around. This wasn't going as she had hoped. It was time for Plan B to be put into effect. "Oh goodness! That's my phone! I should get that." She grabbed at the door handle.
"I didn't hear anything..." Bulma commented viciously, a scowl on her face and a fierce fire in her eyes as she glared at Trixie. Her voice made Vegeta shudder inwardly with desire.
Trixie flashed her a look as she opened the door. "It was on vibrate. You two play nice now!"
The door shut.
She had left them there alone.
Bulma stared at the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. Vegeta leaned against the wall and looked at her. He saw her eyes flicker over to him a few times before she blurted, "What the hell are you looking at?"
He shrugged. "You."
Bulma tensed. She slowly brought her eyes from the wall to him, though her head was still facing towards the wall. Her eyes were no less fiery. "Why?"
"You seem different. You look good." She fidgeted a little and steeled herself.
"Thanks. Power does wonders. But I'm sure you have plenty of skanks to ogle," she said as she turned her eyes back to the wall.
Vegeta shrugged again. "You'd be surprised."
Bulma hissed through her teeth. "If you think flattering me like the other twits you bang is going to get me to get on my knees—or my back—you've got another thing coming."
Vegeta smirked and crossed the room halfway, tossing the towel he was carrying onto the flowers lining the shelving under the mirrors. "I wouldn't dream of it." He looked into her eyes and gave her the most devilish smirk that he had.
Her eyes flashed. She looked like she was going to throttle him. She stood up from her chair, her knuckles almost white with her clenched fists. She crossed the room, put her hands on either side of his face, and pulled him down to her, kissing him fiercely.
~*~*~
What are you doing? Sit back down! Bulma's head screamed at her as she stood, shaking with anger and desire equally, to cross the room. You're going to be taken advantage of! Stop right NOW!
She did not listen. She pulled his face down and kissed him. Hard.
She unintentionally threw all of the passion into that kiss that she had been hoarding through all of the failed and blundering relationships, through every moment spent lost in the past, through the many lust-inducing dreams she'd woken up to where he had been the main attraction. She threw herself into that kiss.
He responded in kind, pulling her tightly against him and clinging to her lips as if they were the lifeline thrown to him while he was drowning in a vast sea. Her arms, in turn, slid from his face to a desperate grasp behind his neck. They melded better than either could have imagined, as if their bodies belonged together.
Once the initial blast of relief from their surprisingly long-awaited reunion, things began to progress at a rapid pace. Vegeta's hands dropped from her back to her butt, Bulma's from his neck to his hair. A small moan escaped as Vegeta lifted her up to wrap her legs around his waist. As she held onto him, he began carrying her over to the couch while moving his mouth to her neck. He could hear her breathing begin to speed up; her hips begin to grind against his as he slowly made his way.
The second he lowered himself into a sitting position on the couch, her on top, she seized control, as she was wont to do. She pulled his face away from her, one hand on either side, and looked deeply into his eyes for a split second before bringing her mouth to his neck, nipping all along it. She took his hands and brought them to her breasts as she pushed her hips against him.
Vegeta chuckled inwardly at the show of dominance from her that was so alien to the woman he had known. He obliged her—for now. She had moved up to his ear and over to his mouth, kissing him deeply. By this point, he had unbuttoned her shirt and her bare chest and stomach lay open to his ministrations. She was two seconds away from beginning to undo her pants when—
"Knock knock, kiddies!" came a muffled voice behind the hall door just before it was opened. Bulma's eyebrows forked, still locked in her kiss, as she heard Trixie giggle. "Déjà vu indeed! I feel like I've jumped back in time!"
Bulma growled lightly and broke the kiss, which caused Vegeta to smirk at her apparent impatience. She glared daggers at Trixie who only smiled.
"Time to go, babe," the actress declared stepping fully into the room. "Now cover up your shame and get over here."
Bulma remained where she was, sitting on Vegeta with an open shirt sending a death stare at her best friend, for a time before sighing and turning back to Vegeta. As she could have guessed, he was only smirking. Regretfully, she removed herself from his lap, buttoned up her shirt, and pulled one of her cards out of her pocket.
"That's where my office is located," she stated handing him her card. She didn't feel that she needed to say anymore. She turned around and walked over to Trixie, straightening herself out again before they exited the room into the hall.
"What an interesting night," Vegeta commended with a smirk while looking at the card. "I hope she has her own office; public isn't what I would prefer for what I have in mind."
~*~ End Chapter 8 ~*~
Hoo, now that was sexy. ;) These chapters are getting somewhat long, which is a good thing! Anyway, tell me what you think. There are probably only a few chapters left... I'm still trying to figure out how to end it appropriately. See y'all in a week or two!