Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Changes of War ❯ Last Night of Freedom ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: xxkaoriknightxx 
Vegeta reluctantly enjoys his last night of freedom before being deployed.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst / Psychological / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.31.2011 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.6K | Visits: 409 | Status: Work In Progress
Vegeta reluctantly enjoys his last night of freedom before being deployed.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Angst / Psychological / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.31.2011 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.6K | Visits: 409 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ
A/N: This is a completely original AU devoted to those who can appreciate historical-accuracy and have an open mind. The contents of this fiction are not meant to offend. Enjoy!
Dark eyes stared into the small glass handed to him. The clear liquid reflected the light above, and the sharp smell of strong alcohol hit his nose. The people around the bar he sat at cheered and danced luridly while the black-haired woman on stage sang raucous, crude lyrics with a powerful contralto voice. Coupled with the ethereal cries of the guitar, the effect was compelling.
A sharp clap to the center of his back broke the young man out of his hypnosis. "What the hell?" He asked looking around for the culprit.
"Relax, V, don't be so worked-up," Said a man, who just sat next to him on the empty bar stool. He had white-blonde hair and, like himself, he wore an olive-green Army uniform.
"Go find a chick and have some fun," The man pressed when he was given a dirty look in response, "Who knows if this'll be the last time we'll get to score?" He stared around him into the crowd quickly and then spun his friend around to point covertly, "See that blonde, Vegeta? She's a stone fox! Whadd'ya say? Or, hell, even that one with the crazy hair looks like she'd be a blast!"
"Alvey," his friend, Vegeta, began a bit impatiently, "They're all freaks!" He gestured to the crowd, voice amplified by the amount of alcohol he consumed. "And this place is the pits! When you said 'let's hat up', I didn't think you meant driving here where we get gawked at for being in uniform."
"Who cares if they look? The girls here are easy," Alvey insisted, "Well, if you're not going out there, then that's your loss!" He slid off the stool and made a beeline for the blonde he pointed to earlier.
"Too bad for you, I'm the one who drove us here," The dark-haired man muttered moodily as he turned around, forgetting that Alvey was his designated driver. He gripped the shot glass he had yet to empty. He raised it to his lips; just as he tossed the shot back, something quite solid slammed into his back, not hard enough to knock him from his seat, as he quickly braced himself against the bar, but strong enough to send burning alcohol spewing from his mouth.
He quickly jumped up and wheeled around violently, "Alvey, you--!" His flying fist halted barely inches from the flinching face of a young female with board-straight, orchid-colored hair. This alone, as he had never seen such a shocking sight, left him speechless and he couldn't help but stare. He noticed that a few onlookers quit their giggling and watched nervously; slowly, his fist lowered.
"Oh, dude, I'm sorry!" The girl said sincerely, holding up two fingers in a symbol of peace, "I didn't mean to! I was just commenting to my friend how cute you were. My friend laugh at me 'cause I'm a sucker for guys in uniform, and she said I should talk to you, and I said no, but she wouldn't have it, and she pushed me...and I don't know why I just told you all that." She said all of this extremely fast, leaving Vegeta feeling exhausted just from listening to her. Before he knew it, she was using the pad of her thumb to wipe a few flecks of alcohol from below his bottom lip.
He dared a glance from the brazen woman's hair to the crowd, where Alvey was seen grinning broadly and giving him the thumbs-up. "That's enough," He ground out, grabbing thin wrists into his hands and lowering them from his face, "Just watch it next time."
"Right, and again, I'm sorry," She said with a rueful grin, "So, what's someone like you doing in a place like this?"
Vegeta's eyes narrowed slightly as he took his seat on the stool. He felt a slight pang of annoyance that only intensified his desire to not be in such a smoky, noisy place. He didn't bet on having to converse with someone else, female or no, regardless of what his friend suggested. "What am I doing here?" He asked, making sure he heard correctly, "I was dragged here against my will," He responded a bit louder than he would, so he could be heard over the din.
"You don't say?" She asked, "Well, do you have a name? I wouldn't wanna stick you with a nick-name you won't like."
The soldier blinked, kind of spacing out for a moment. "Steven," He said, voicing with the first fake name he could think of. He didn't feel comfortable with giving his information to anyone, much less a flower-child with purple-ish hair.
"Steven, you say?" The girl's tone was slightly skeptical, "Mine's Ivy."
Vegeta smirked, "No offense, but I'm not surprised." He gestured to the bartender to get him a new drink; he knew he should be watching his alcohol consumption, but his nerves were shot to hell.
"You're leaving, aren't you?" Ivy asked, watching the soldier down his shot.
"Don't look like it to me," Vegeta responded sarcastically.
Ivy rolled her great, blue eyes, "You know what I mean. You're going to 'Nam, aren't you? I know you are, 'cause you've got that look. That look of doom."
Disbelieving laughter escaped the man's lips and he looked at the young girl next to him, shaking his head. "What in the world are you on, coming up with crazy shit like that? What in the world about my expression makes you think that; I look this way all the time! I swear, you're on something."
"Why?" Ivy smiled, "Do you want some? Aw, c'mon, man, it was a joke!" she said when Vegeta looked affronted. "Dude, you really need to learn to lighten up, 'cause, listen, I'm about to blow this joint with some friends and go to a party, and it'll totally be cool if you went with me, and--"
"Wait, what? Let's just go over to one of those tables, because its hard to hear." Vegeta pointed to a row of circular tables against the wall on the far left side. He allowed Bulma to go ahead of him and he followed closely behind.
The fringes bounced and danced on the long, brown suede sash tied around her waist, causing the soldier's eyes to linger a moment too long on her swaying hips. He was quite sure she had a lovely figure underneath the loose layers of floor-length cotton and countless beads and bangles adorning her body.
They sat across from each other on a table placed in the corner of the shady club. Vegeta had to give it to Ivy; she was awfully attractive, even without makeup. She wore the hippie-look well, although she seemed a little more extravagant than the others, what-with the amount of jewelry she wore. He found himself actually considering his friend, Alvey's, suggestion from earlier.
"You're staring," Ivy said, though there was not even a hint of offense in her voice.
Vegeta kept his gaze and allowed a smirk to break across his face. "You're not complaining," He said smoothly, "And, as you said, I'm leaving. I'll give you credit for being able to read someone, because you're absolutely right, I am leaving; tomorrow, actually."
"So, what you're saying is," The ever-smiling non-conformist said, sliding a ring-adorned hand halfway across the table, "you'll take me up on my offer."
Her eyes were alight with amusement as she stared into dark, stoic ones. Her attention broke when the soldier slid his own work-scarred hand so that it met with hers. He might have been a soldier, but he was quite a catch!
"How'd you get here, anyway?" Vegeta asked, not moving his hand. "Did you drive?"
"I came here with some college friends in their van," Ivy replied, sliding her thumb across the man's palm, "You're more than welcome to ride with us if you wanna go with me to the party."
"I've got my own ride, and I'm actually ready to blow this joint. I'll go with you, as long as you have no qualms with riding with me."
***
Vegeta's black '65 Pontiac Tempest roared down the multi-colored lit, abnormally flat, seedy San Fransisco street. Along the sidewalks, people walked in groups, played music for coins, and participated in lurid make-out sessions in plain sight.
The soldier had quite enough to drink, so he had to focus more than he would normally on the road. Also, he didn't particularly care for driving around the section of the city he was subjected to. Ivy, however, seemed perfectly fine.
"You've got a nice ride," Ivy said, breaking the silence, "I'm more partial to the Camaros that Chevy just came out with, but this GTO spin-off is nice, too.”
"Never would've pegged you as one to know about cars," the soldier replied, eyes never leaving the road before him. "Actually, I've never met a girl who even liked cars...then again; most girls I meet don't do a lot of talking."
"I don't doubt it--oh, turn right up here..." Ivy pointed toward an intersection before continuing, "And I'll have you know that I don't go marching Washington wielding a flaming bra, nor do I plan on joining a convoy to the northern California hills to live in a teepee. I'm actually working on getting a degree in engineering at Berkeley."
"Well isn't that special," Vegeta said sarcastically, not playing into his date's game. He had already figured out that Ivy wasn't just another Hippie burn-out; he just hoped that she was a great lay, considering he ditched his friend and was driving to fuck-knows-where.
Of course, Vegeta wasn't trying to run from his responsibilities. He just wanted one last night of freedom; he deserved it, didn't he? After all, it was May of 1968, and the Vietnam War was at its climax. He was finally being deployed from Fort Ord to somewhere in South Vietnam after all the Infantry training he had done. He had no clue what to expect from there, except from horror stories from other soldiers who had already been. They all gave him the same advice that his friend gave him, "make your last night home one to remember."
The Tempest rumbled up the street to another stoplight. According to Ivy, they were to go straight to the next light, take a left, and the apartment that the party would be happening at would be immediately to the left. In the lane next to them, a bright red 1960 Chevy Impala stopped. Neither Vegeta nor Ivy would have paid much attention to the surprisingly well-cared-for older vehicle if it weren’t for the fact that its owner started obnoxiously revving the engine.
"I think he wants to race," Ivy observed.
"No shit," Vegeta responded, looking into the other car's window. To be honest, its owner didn't look at all like he expected. The guy looked to be in his mid-twenties, broadly-built and muscular. What was most outstanding about him was how bizarrely spiked and thick his hair was.
The soldier glared as the cocky man grinned widely. Insolent eyes switched to Ivy, who looked between the road and the stranger in anticipation, and winked.
"Thinks he's so cool," Vegeta grumbled, fixing his gaze back on the red light, "I'll show his ass and leave that clunker in the dust." He pressed on the gas pedal, allowing his engine to roar loudly in one continuous note.
The light turned green. The car was shifted into first gear and it took off quickly. Vegeta's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead as he shifted gears fluidly. Ivy kept glancing at the Impala next to them, which was surprisingly gaining the lead.
Vegeta noticed by the time it was too late. The light for the lane he was in turned red, while his opponent's light remained green. The Impala shot through the intersection seconds before the Tempest had even reached the light to stop.
"If it makes you feel any better," Ivy began.
The soldier sighed and held a hand up in protest, glaring at the unchanging red light. "No, don't...just be quiet."
"But it was an unfair race," the woman continued, ignoring Vegeta sucking in his breath, "because that dude's car was probably fixed up so it pulled more horsepower."
Vegeta made a noise of annoyance, and continued to drive on. The rest of the car trip lasted in silence as the prideful male seethed in his moment of embarrassment. Sure, he wasn't quite adamant about impressing Ivy, since she already said she liked him, but he didn't like having his ass stomped by a steroid-ridden punk in a POS Chevy.
Ivy, on the other hand, knew that she was making a risk bringing a "baby-killer" around her passionate and opinionated friends. However, the Sexual Revolution was coming close to an all-time high, and it wasn't uncommon for herself and her female friends to hook up with service men.
She had her own personal views concerning society and the way the nation was run, but she was normally good about keeping her pleasures and views separate. As long as the partner she picked out wasn't a total jerk to her, looks were all that mattered. Lucky for her, she struck gold with her stoic soldier.
Soon, they pulled up to a four-story Edwardian-style apartment. This apartment was situated in a much older section of the city where quite a few buildings were torn down due to out-dated architectural design, and the section's susceptibility to severe earthquake damage.
Music was heard thudding from inside the closer the couple neared the door. Very dim, flickering light shone from the dirty, wide window to the right of the door, though no movement seemed to be evident.
Ivy's hand slipped into Vegeta's. She looked over at him and smiled. Her date's face remained stony, but he accepted the gesture and allowed smaller, bony fingers to lace around his. They entered the house together, stepping into a low-ceilinged, unlit foyer that had the subtle smell of molded wood.
"In here," Ivy said quietly, leading Vegeta to a door to the right. The flickering light shone from the space at the bottom of the door, and the music continued to thump on.
The scene the pair walked in on was completely different than what Vegeta had expected. Where he expected to see drug and alcohol-induced chaos, a sort of calm was taken in its place.
Candles flickered around the room, dimly illuminating a cramped living area decorated with mismatched furniture. The room had the air of neglect considering the clutter. A faint layer of smoke lingered around about a dozen people, who either sat cramped on the tiny couch, or on the floor. A few couples made-out, while others talked; there was one boy who sang along to the rock music playing from the record-player in the corner.
"'What's goin' on?" Came a deep-toned drawl. An average-height, gangly male swaggered up to the couple; he had loads of curly dark-brown hair that shagged into his eyes. He held what looked like a lit cigarette in between his thumb and forefinger.
"Hey, Jaron!" Ivy responded, wrapping her arms around the young man and hugging him while standing on her toes, "Haven't seen you in forever!"
"I know," The man, Jaron, responded pleasantly, "You came just in time; I just fired a super-joint up," He handed the cigarette-like item to Ivy, who took it without a second thought. "Whose your friend?" He finally asked, acknowledging Vegeta's presence.
"His name's Steven," She said with a subtle mocking tone, smoke coming out of her mouth as she spoke. "He's cool; no worries."
"Welcome, man!" Jaron said jovially, extending his hand to Vegeta. The soldier gave a slight gasp as his whole arm was shaken enthusiastically. "And, dude," He continued to Ivy, releasing the hand he gripped, "We have some awesome 'Haze. It'll blow your mind, man."
Vegeta rolled his eyes. He was never allured into the drug scene, thanks to having a hard-ass military general for a father. Of course, he was a bit curious, after hearing stories from his high-school friends and military comrades, but he never bothered with trying anything out.
He allowed Ivy to lead him to one of the couches. The piece of furniture had a large rip down the arm, like someone had slashed it with a knife. The fabric smelled old, just like the rest of the house that he had walked through.
"Wanna hit?" Ivy asked, holding the joint out to Vegeta.
Vegeta's eyes switched from the smoldering object to Ivy, "No, thanks." He said.
"Don't be such a goody-goody," Ivy insisted, "Just try it."
The soldier cut his eyes slightly at the lavender-haired girl; he couldn't stand being labeled as a prude. Besides, loads of his comrades did it when not under the watchful gaze of the superiors. He took the joint without another word, thinking what's the worst that could happen?
He inhaled, pulling harder than he saw Ivy pull, just to show her he wasn't a 'goody-goody'. This, however, was a mistake. As soon as the searing smoke hit his throat, he felt the unavoidable urge to either puke or cough.
Luckily it was the latter. He was bent double from the coughing fit; his watering eyes did not register someone taking the joint from his hand as he felt as if he were about to cough up his lungs.
"Fuck!" He swore once he caught his breath.
"You should've taken it easy, Iron Lungs," Ivy teased, nudging him with her elbow.
"Yeah, thanks for the heads-up," Vegeta responded sarcastically. A sudden feeling of calm seemed to spread from his mind, matched with a mild, physically numbing feeling. His cares seemed to slowly ebb away, but they didn't fully vanish; he knew that time was still of the essence.
He turned toward the woman, only to find she was eyeing him hopefully.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Ivy said quietly in a sultry tone that Vegeta didn't picture her using, as the tone was a bit more upbeat.
The soldier's lips upturned into a small smile briefly, then leaned closely to whisper, "I can think of more enjoyable things."
"Like...?" The lavender-haired girl asked, glancing at Vegeta's lips for a moment before staring back into his eyes. The atmosphere seemed thick with tension and the force of physical attraction. Lust was undeniable between the two young adults.
With all sense of dignity gone, and consideration for the others sharing the room with them diminished, their lips met. A rough hand slid up Ivy's smooth, pale arm before clenching at her shoulder. Her body was pulled against Vegeta's sturdy chest, and the kiss was deepened.
Ivy tilted her head slightly, so as to gain better access to Vegeta's mouth with her tongue. She felt the hand that wasn't on her shoulder run through her hair. In a moment of boldness, and the desire to move things faster, she placed her hand on the one on her shoulder and slid it downward, causing it to cup her breast.
Vegeta was rather surprised by the motion, but the surprise was replaced by the thrill of what was to come. What's more: Ivy wasn't wearing a bra; one less thing to remove. He ignored all virtue and rational thought, accepting the woman's invitation to give the pert, rounded flesh a good squeeze.
So lost in the moment, they didn't notice the disapproving tutting-sounds coming from a very moody dark-haired female on the other side of the room. Apparently, her boyfriend chose to watch the overly-physical couple instead of paying attention to her.
A particularly obnoxious cough broke Vegeta and Ivy apart. The soldier scowled at the offending female, who merely smiled impudently.
Noticing the tension, Ivy stood up, taking Vegeta's hand in hers, "You wanna...?" She jerked her head slightly to a door opposite to the one they walked through earlier.
The pair walked across the sitting room and through the doorway, shutting the door behind them. The room they entered was about as big as the living room was, and just as messy. Severely dim light from the lamp on a cluttered nightstand illuminated a full-sized bed with nothing but a sheet on it. The room was cluttered with clothes piled on just about every surface available, except for the bed, and spots where numerous glass soda bottles and liquor bottles clustered together.
"Its not very romantic..." Ivy said apologetically, smiling ruefully.
Vegeta pulled the woman against his body, "I'm not much concerned about our surroundings," He said with a slight smile. He cupped the soft-skinned face in his hand and tilted his head slightly to engage into another fiery kiss.
Ivy of course, did not resist, only eagerly opening her mouth in order to accept the soldier's tongue, which was demanding entrance by running along the seam of her lips. She felt his hands slip downward along her body, feeling her curves through her thin dress. Her own hands slid once more up his sturdy chest and she began carefully undoing his buttons, as she knew how important it was that a soldier's uniform not get ruined.
A discomforted grunt escaped the uniform-clad man as he felt the tug of his tucked shirt against his arousal, but he refused to remove his lips from the other's. His own hands fumbled with the ties of the long leather sash Ivy wore around her waist, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor once untied. All she was left with was her red cotton dress that hung unflatteringly on her shoulders, and her beads and bangles. All it took was him smoothing the inch-wide sleeves off of her shoulders, and the dress fell to the floor with barely a sound.
He shook out of his green button-up, and slipped his undershirt over his head. Meanwhile, Ivy shimmied out of her underwear, thus becoming fully nude, save for her jewelry. Keeping her blue eyes tantalizingly locked on dark ones as she stepped backward enough until her thighs hit the low-sitting bed. She lay back, beckoning Vegeta with her sultry expression.
The young soldier admired the view of the woman laying back on her elbows as he dropped his sharply-creased pants to the floor. Excitement for what was to come coursed through him. The effect of the severely dim light shadowing the slight figure; her unusually-colored hair and earth-toned jewelry made her look like some sort of female companion offering from an exotic, unheard of land...and she was all his, at least for the night. All stereotypes he had placed on his one-time date were wiped from his mind.
"Lose the shorts," She demanded lowly, also staring exuberantly. What the soldiers were fighting for had nothing to do with how well they performed in bed, and that's all she cared about when she chose her lover for the night. She refused to date, being that she had troubles committing; there were just too many fish in the sea.
She was particularly fond of the beau she chose tonight. She could look past his silent facade, focusing more on his sturdy frame, bronzed skin (he must have spent a lot of shirtless hours in the sun working out!), and the straight-backed arrogant way he carried himself. She bit her lip in anticipation as the now nude soldier advanced toward her. His face was hidden in the shadows, save for a bit of light illuminating the space where his eyes were.
A thin hand reached up and wrapped around the dog-tags that hung around Vegeta's neck, gently pulling him downward. Their lips met once more, hungrily, with a note of desperation. Strong hands roved over soft, pliable curves until they reached smooth, shapely thighs.
Vegeta bit down softly on Ivy's bottom lip, then moved to her neck, earning a quiet sigh. His hand slid underneath the thigh, smoothing over the woman's ample bottom. He hitched the bend of the leg over his shoulder and used the other hand to grab hold of soft hair.
Ivy's breath hitched as the man didn't hesitate to enter her. Her inner muscles clenched wonderfully around him in eagerness for every nerve to be stimulated. Her arms hooked under his arms and her hands latched onto his firm shoulders. Her eyes wanted to flutter shut at the incredible feeling she loved so much; that took her away from the cares she was forced to be responsible of, but she found those dark orbs irresistible to look away from.
So lost in the fog of pleasure, the larger, heavier body pressed more upon hers. Their foreheads touched, slick with freshly-sprung sweat, but neither cared. Ivy's other leg slid upward and hooked around Vegeta's hip, making their position most awkward, but only increased the feeling almost painfully. Her soft cries drowned out the heavy breathing coming from the male as he drove harder into her.
Ivy's body rocked with the force exerted into her body. Her beads slid and clinked with the motion of her breasts bouncing. Suddenly, something small hit her chin; the action repeated with each thrust, and seemed unnoticed by the one causing it. She removed one of her hands from the shoulder and grabbed a hold of Vegeta's dog tags, which shone briefly in the light when they swayed forward. She glanced at them quickly in the light before swinging them behind their owner's neck; this, too went unnoticed.
A dull throb started growing in one of Vegeta's legs from the way he was bent over. He refused to halt his ministrations, however, and put up with it. The only hint that he was in any discomfort was the slightly-pained groans escaping his lips. Of course, his lover only took it as him really enjoying himself, causing her to intensify the volume of her own pleasured sounds.
He felt her walls clench tightly and pulse around his length and the feeling was almost over-stimulating. Her face, however, was breathtaking as her eyes shut and her mouth opened. The sweetest sound hit his ears and his name was called, surprisingly well-pronounced: "Vegeta!"
With his own climax nearing, he chose to focus more on that than the fact that she figured his name out. The feelings intensified as the first wave hit him full-on. His body clenched and his hand gripped the hair it still held, tugging the owner's head back. Once the mind-numbing, blissful feelings subsided to a pleasurable pulse, he gently kissed the pale neck beneath him before he fully relaxed.
Finally after their physically awkward position, they lay next to each other on the blanket-less mattress, still breathing pretty heavily. Both partner's legs were sore as hell, but each was quite satisfied. The sex was quick, but it was so good, and worth the wait.
"How'd you figure my name out?" Vegeta breathed, turning his head to face Ivy.
Since she faced away from the light, her figure was silhouetted. She turned completely on her side, which defined the roundness of her hips and legs. "Are you kidding?" She laughed, her old attitude returning to her, "Its on your dog-tags, man! Did you forget you were wearing them when you told me your name was Steven?"
"You're right, actually. I'm so used to wearing them, that I forget that I even have them on. Looks like you caught me." He then laughed at his own foolishness; making up a fake name was a silly idea. He felt strangely calm and open from the dopamine rush he received after such a stress-relieving and incredible climax.
Ivy's hand slid across Vegeta's chest to turn the dog tags over in it, examining the words engraved in the metal. "I like your name," She said, "Its better and more manly than," She giggled, "Steven."
"Shut up about the fake-name, already," He ground out, feeling heat rise to his face slightly, "I just thought it up because I didn't think about sharing my real name with you."
"Well, any other time, I would have been quite hurt," Ivy replied, now fiddling with one of her own necklaces, "But you see, I've been going by a pseudonym, as well."
Vegeta rolled onto his side and propped his head in his hand, "Oh?" He said in mock-curiosity, "And what might it be? Shooting Star or some far-out, wacky shit like that?"
"Ha, ha," The woman replied mockingly, "So says the man named Vegeta--what is it?--Levi. What is that some sort of European shit?"
The soldier frowned, "I'll have you know that my name comes from a line of proud Grecian warriors," His tone was arrogantly affronted, as if he considered it blasphemy to tease his name, "Leventis was what it originally was until my grandparents immigrated to New York and the officials bastardized it to Levi to simplify things."
"Oh, ho! Well, aren't we proud of ourselves! Well, since you've been so kind as to share this interesting bit of information with me, I'll tell you this," She cleared her throat obnoxiously, to which Vegeta rolled his eyes, "My real name is Bulma, Bulma Ganesvoort. I'm of Dutch heritage, and come from a family of entreprenures and inventors." She smiled proudly, herself. She always took great pride in being from a family of intellectuals, despite what most people thought about her counter-cultural, free-spirited attitude.
"And, in case you're wondering," She continued when the soldier didn't respond, "My hair color was from a hair-dying accident that I ended up sticking to. Its kinda my trademark."
Vegeta snorted, "Of course, because you lot are always trying shit that makes you unique and special." He rolled his eyes, letting them land on the lavender locks, "Purple." He finished with a scoff.
"Well there are some of us who prefer to step out of the norm," The woman argued, "And I didn't hear you complain one bit when you were tugging on it." She smiled victoriously, eyeing the man impishly. Vegeta didn't reply, refusing to give in and argue further.
They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of the record playing. The feeling of impending doom and responsibility started creeping its way back into Vegeta's mind. He had to leave in order to get back to Fort Ord in time. The hopes of getting a good night's rest were all but diminished; he'll definitely end up paying for it in the morning when he has to wake up at dawn to get on the plane.
"Don't you have to leave soon?" Bulma asked, as if she read his mind, "Not to rush you out, or anything..." She added quickly.
"I do," Vegeta answered, sitting up finally. He started gathering his clothes and putting them on, smoothing out any unsightly creases made while they were left on the floor in a heap. He was quite sure he looked fine, despite the fact that he didn't have a mirror to dress in front of.
Finally adjusting his collar and tucking his dog-tags down his shirt front. He stepped toward the doorway, with no intentions of looking back. He had to get back to base, as he had no more time to waste; sleep was calling.
"See ya around," Came Bulma's voice from the bed. She waved, but the motion went unnoticed as her one-time-lover left the room without looking back.
Converting /tmp/phpbFvo19 to /dev/stdout
A/N: This is a completely original AU devoted to those who can appreciate historical-accuracy and have an open mind. The contents of this fiction are not meant to offend. Enjoy!
Dark eyes stared into the small glass handed to him. The clear liquid reflected the light above, and the sharp smell of strong alcohol hit his nose. The people around the bar he sat at cheered and danced luridly while the black-haired woman on stage sang raucous, crude lyrics with a powerful contralto voice. Coupled with the ethereal cries of the guitar, the effect was compelling.
A sharp clap to the center of his back broke the young man out of his hypnosis. "What the hell?" He asked looking around for the culprit.
"Relax, V, don't be so worked-up," Said a man, who just sat next to him on the empty bar stool. He had white-blonde hair and, like himself, he wore an olive-green Army uniform.
"Go find a chick and have some fun," The man pressed when he was given a dirty look in response, "Who knows if this'll be the last time we'll get to score?" He stared around him into the crowd quickly and then spun his friend around to point covertly, "See that blonde, Vegeta? She's a stone fox! Whadd'ya say? Or, hell, even that one with the crazy hair looks like she'd be a blast!"
"Alvey," his friend, Vegeta, began a bit impatiently, "They're all freaks!" He gestured to the crowd, voice amplified by the amount of alcohol he consumed. "And this place is the pits! When you said 'let's hat up', I didn't think you meant driving here where we get gawked at for being in uniform."
"Who cares if they look? The girls here are easy," Alvey insisted, "Well, if you're not going out there, then that's your loss!" He slid off the stool and made a beeline for the blonde he pointed to earlier.
"Too bad for you, I'm the one who drove us here," The dark-haired man muttered moodily as he turned around, forgetting that Alvey was his designated driver. He gripped the shot glass he had yet to empty. He raised it to his lips; just as he tossed the shot back, something quite solid slammed into his back, not hard enough to knock him from his seat, as he quickly braced himself against the bar, but strong enough to send burning alcohol spewing from his mouth.
He quickly jumped up and wheeled around violently, "Alvey, you--!" His flying fist halted barely inches from the flinching face of a young female with board-straight, orchid-colored hair. This alone, as he had never seen such a shocking sight, left him speechless and he couldn't help but stare. He noticed that a few onlookers quit their giggling and watched nervously; slowly, his fist lowered.
"Oh, dude, I'm sorry!" The girl said sincerely, holding up two fingers in a symbol of peace, "I didn't mean to! I was just commenting to my friend how cute you were. My friend laugh at me 'cause I'm a sucker for guys in uniform, and she said I should talk to you, and I said no, but she wouldn't have it, and she pushed me...and I don't know why I just told you all that." She said all of this extremely fast, leaving Vegeta feeling exhausted just from listening to her. Before he knew it, she was using the pad of her thumb to wipe a few flecks of alcohol from below his bottom lip.
He dared a glance from the brazen woman's hair to the crowd, where Alvey was seen grinning broadly and giving him the thumbs-up. "That's enough," He ground out, grabbing thin wrists into his hands and lowering them from his face, "Just watch it next time."
"Right, and again, I'm sorry," She said with a rueful grin, "So, what's someone like you doing in a place like this?"
Vegeta's eyes narrowed slightly as he took his seat on the stool. He felt a slight pang of annoyance that only intensified his desire to not be in such a smoky, noisy place. He didn't bet on having to converse with someone else, female or no, regardless of what his friend suggested. "What am I doing here?" He asked, making sure he heard correctly, "I was dragged here against my will," He responded a bit louder than he would, so he could be heard over the din.
"You don't say?" She asked, "Well, do you have a name? I wouldn't wanna stick you with a nick-name you won't like."
The soldier blinked, kind of spacing out for a moment. "Steven," He said, voicing with the first fake name he could think of. He didn't feel comfortable with giving his information to anyone, much less a flower-child with purple-ish hair.
"Steven, you say?" The girl's tone was slightly skeptical, "Mine's Ivy."
Vegeta smirked, "No offense, but I'm not surprised." He gestured to the bartender to get him a new drink; he knew he should be watching his alcohol consumption, but his nerves were shot to hell.
"You're leaving, aren't you?" Ivy asked, watching the soldier down his shot.
"Don't look like it to me," Vegeta responded sarcastically.
Ivy rolled her great, blue eyes, "You know what I mean. You're going to 'Nam, aren't you? I know you are, 'cause you've got that look. That look of doom."
Disbelieving laughter escaped the man's lips and he looked at the young girl next to him, shaking his head. "What in the world are you on, coming up with crazy shit like that? What in the world about my expression makes you think that; I look this way all the time! I swear, you're on something."
"Why?" Ivy smiled, "Do you want some? Aw, c'mon, man, it was a joke!" she said when Vegeta looked affronted. "Dude, you really need to learn to lighten up, 'cause, listen, I'm about to blow this joint with some friends and go to a party, and it'll totally be cool if you went with me, and--"
"Wait, what? Let's just go over to one of those tables, because its hard to hear." Vegeta pointed to a row of circular tables against the wall on the far left side. He allowed Bulma to go ahead of him and he followed closely behind.
The fringes bounced and danced on the long, brown suede sash tied around her waist, causing the soldier's eyes to linger a moment too long on her swaying hips. He was quite sure she had a lovely figure underneath the loose layers of floor-length cotton and countless beads and bangles adorning her body.
They sat across from each other on a table placed in the corner of the shady club. Vegeta had to give it to Ivy; she was awfully attractive, even without makeup. She wore the hippie-look well, although she seemed a little more extravagant than the others, what-with the amount of jewelry she wore. He found himself actually considering his friend, Alvey's, suggestion from earlier.
"You're staring," Ivy said, though there was not even a hint of offense in her voice.
Vegeta kept his gaze and allowed a smirk to break across his face. "You're not complaining," He said smoothly, "And, as you said, I'm leaving. I'll give you credit for being able to read someone, because you're absolutely right, I am leaving; tomorrow, actually."
"So, what you're saying is," The ever-smiling non-conformist said, sliding a ring-adorned hand halfway across the table, "you'll take me up on my offer."
Her eyes were alight with amusement as she stared into dark, stoic ones. Her attention broke when the soldier slid his own work-scarred hand so that it met with hers. He might have been a soldier, but he was quite a catch!
"How'd you get here, anyway?" Vegeta asked, not moving his hand. "Did you drive?"
"I came here with some college friends in their van," Ivy replied, sliding her thumb across the man's palm, "You're more than welcome to ride with us if you wanna go with me to the party."
"I've got my own ride, and I'm actually ready to blow this joint. I'll go with you, as long as you have no qualms with riding with me."
***
Vegeta's black '65 Pontiac Tempest roared down the multi-colored lit, abnormally flat, seedy San Fransisco street. Along the sidewalks, people walked in groups, played music for coins, and participated in lurid make-out sessions in plain sight.
The soldier had quite enough to drink, so he had to focus more than he would normally on the road. Also, he didn't particularly care for driving around the section of the city he was subjected to. Ivy, however, seemed perfectly fine.
"You've got a nice ride," Ivy said, breaking the silence, "I'm more partial to the Camaros that Chevy just came out with, but this GTO spin-off is nice, too.”
"Never would've pegged you as one to know about cars," the soldier replied, eyes never leaving the road before him. "Actually, I've never met a girl who even liked cars...then again; most girls I meet don't do a lot of talking."
"I don't doubt it--oh, turn right up here..." Ivy pointed toward an intersection before continuing, "And I'll have you know that I don't go marching Washington wielding a flaming bra, nor do I plan on joining a convoy to the northern California hills to live in a teepee. I'm actually working on getting a degree in engineering at Berkeley."
"Well isn't that special," Vegeta said sarcastically, not playing into his date's game. He had already figured out that Ivy wasn't just another Hippie burn-out; he just hoped that she was a great lay, considering he ditched his friend and was driving to fuck-knows-where.
Of course, Vegeta wasn't trying to run from his responsibilities. He just wanted one last night of freedom; he deserved it, didn't he? After all, it was May of 1968, and the Vietnam War was at its climax. He was finally being deployed from Fort Ord to somewhere in South Vietnam after all the Infantry training he had done. He had no clue what to expect from there, except from horror stories from other soldiers who had already been. They all gave him the same advice that his friend gave him, "make your last night home one to remember."
The Tempest rumbled up the street to another stoplight. According to Ivy, they were to go straight to the next light, take a left, and the apartment that the party would be happening at would be immediately to the left. In the lane next to them, a bright red 1960 Chevy Impala stopped. Neither Vegeta nor Ivy would have paid much attention to the surprisingly well-cared-for older vehicle if it weren’t for the fact that its owner started obnoxiously revving the engine.
"I think he wants to race," Ivy observed.
"No shit," Vegeta responded, looking into the other car's window. To be honest, its owner didn't look at all like he expected. The guy looked to be in his mid-twenties, broadly-built and muscular. What was most outstanding about him was how bizarrely spiked and thick his hair was.
The soldier glared as the cocky man grinned widely. Insolent eyes switched to Ivy, who looked between the road and the stranger in anticipation, and winked.
"Thinks he's so cool," Vegeta grumbled, fixing his gaze back on the red light, "I'll show his ass and leave that clunker in the dust." He pressed on the gas pedal, allowing his engine to roar loudly in one continuous note.
The light turned green. The car was shifted into first gear and it took off quickly. Vegeta's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead as he shifted gears fluidly. Ivy kept glancing at the Impala next to them, which was surprisingly gaining the lead.
Vegeta noticed by the time it was too late. The light for the lane he was in turned red, while his opponent's light remained green. The Impala shot through the intersection seconds before the Tempest had even reached the light to stop.
"If it makes you feel any better," Ivy began.
The soldier sighed and held a hand up in protest, glaring at the unchanging red light. "No, don't...just be quiet."
"But it was an unfair race," the woman continued, ignoring Vegeta sucking in his breath, "because that dude's car was probably fixed up so it pulled more horsepower."
Vegeta made a noise of annoyance, and continued to drive on. The rest of the car trip lasted in silence as the prideful male seethed in his moment of embarrassment. Sure, he wasn't quite adamant about impressing Ivy, since she already said she liked him, but he didn't like having his ass stomped by a steroid-ridden punk in a POS Chevy.
Ivy, on the other hand, knew that she was making a risk bringing a "baby-killer" around her passionate and opinionated friends. However, the Sexual Revolution was coming close to an all-time high, and it wasn't uncommon for herself and her female friends to hook up with service men.
She had her own personal views concerning society and the way the nation was run, but she was normally good about keeping her pleasures and views separate. As long as the partner she picked out wasn't a total jerk to her, looks were all that mattered. Lucky for her, she struck gold with her stoic soldier.
Soon, they pulled up to a four-story Edwardian-style apartment. This apartment was situated in a much older section of the city where quite a few buildings were torn down due to out-dated architectural design, and the section's susceptibility to severe earthquake damage.
Music was heard thudding from inside the closer the couple neared the door. Very dim, flickering light shone from the dirty, wide window to the right of the door, though no movement seemed to be evident.
Ivy's hand slipped into Vegeta's. She looked over at him and smiled. Her date's face remained stony, but he accepted the gesture and allowed smaller, bony fingers to lace around his. They entered the house together, stepping into a low-ceilinged, unlit foyer that had the subtle smell of molded wood.
"In here," Ivy said quietly, leading Vegeta to a door to the right. The flickering light shone from the space at the bottom of the door, and the music continued to thump on.
The scene the pair walked in on was completely different than what Vegeta had expected. Where he expected to see drug and alcohol-induced chaos, a sort of calm was taken in its place.
Candles flickered around the room, dimly illuminating a cramped living area decorated with mismatched furniture. The room had the air of neglect considering the clutter. A faint layer of smoke lingered around about a dozen people, who either sat cramped on the tiny couch, or on the floor. A few couples made-out, while others talked; there was one boy who sang along to the rock music playing from the record-player in the corner.
"'What's goin' on?" Came a deep-toned drawl. An average-height, gangly male swaggered up to the couple; he had loads of curly dark-brown hair that shagged into his eyes. He held what looked like a lit cigarette in between his thumb and forefinger.
"Hey, Jaron!" Ivy responded, wrapping her arms around the young man and hugging him while standing on her toes, "Haven't seen you in forever!"
"I know," The man, Jaron, responded pleasantly, "You came just in time; I just fired a super-joint up," He handed the cigarette-like item to Ivy, who took it without a second thought. "Whose your friend?" He finally asked, acknowledging Vegeta's presence.
"His name's Steven," She said with a subtle mocking tone, smoke coming out of her mouth as she spoke. "He's cool; no worries."
"Welcome, man!" Jaron said jovially, extending his hand to Vegeta. The soldier gave a slight gasp as his whole arm was shaken enthusiastically. "And, dude," He continued to Ivy, releasing the hand he gripped, "We have some awesome 'Haze. It'll blow your mind, man."
Vegeta rolled his eyes. He was never allured into the drug scene, thanks to having a hard-ass military general for a father. Of course, he was a bit curious, after hearing stories from his high-school friends and military comrades, but he never bothered with trying anything out.
He allowed Ivy to lead him to one of the couches. The piece of furniture had a large rip down the arm, like someone had slashed it with a knife. The fabric smelled old, just like the rest of the house that he had walked through.
"Wanna hit?" Ivy asked, holding the joint out to Vegeta.
Vegeta's eyes switched from the smoldering object to Ivy, "No, thanks." He said.
"Don't be such a goody-goody," Ivy insisted, "Just try it."
The soldier cut his eyes slightly at the lavender-haired girl; he couldn't stand being labeled as a prude. Besides, loads of his comrades did it when not under the watchful gaze of the superiors. He took the joint without another word, thinking what's the worst that could happen?
He inhaled, pulling harder than he saw Ivy pull, just to show her he wasn't a 'goody-goody'. This, however, was a mistake. As soon as the searing smoke hit his throat, he felt the unavoidable urge to either puke or cough.
Luckily it was the latter. He was bent double from the coughing fit; his watering eyes did not register someone taking the joint from his hand as he felt as if he were about to cough up his lungs.
"Fuck!" He swore once he caught his breath.
"You should've taken it easy, Iron Lungs," Ivy teased, nudging him with her elbow.
"Yeah, thanks for the heads-up," Vegeta responded sarcastically. A sudden feeling of calm seemed to spread from his mind, matched with a mild, physically numbing feeling. His cares seemed to slowly ebb away, but they didn't fully vanish; he knew that time was still of the essence.
He turned toward the woman, only to find she was eyeing him hopefully.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Ivy said quietly in a sultry tone that Vegeta didn't picture her using, as the tone was a bit more upbeat.
The soldier's lips upturned into a small smile briefly, then leaned closely to whisper, "I can think of more enjoyable things."
"Like...?" The lavender-haired girl asked, glancing at Vegeta's lips for a moment before staring back into his eyes. The atmosphere seemed thick with tension and the force of physical attraction. Lust was undeniable between the two young adults.
With all sense of dignity gone, and consideration for the others sharing the room with them diminished, their lips met. A rough hand slid up Ivy's smooth, pale arm before clenching at her shoulder. Her body was pulled against Vegeta's sturdy chest, and the kiss was deepened.
Ivy tilted her head slightly, so as to gain better access to Vegeta's mouth with her tongue. She felt the hand that wasn't on her shoulder run through her hair. In a moment of boldness, and the desire to move things faster, she placed her hand on the one on her shoulder and slid it downward, causing it to cup her breast.
Vegeta was rather surprised by the motion, but the surprise was replaced by the thrill of what was to come. What's more: Ivy wasn't wearing a bra; one less thing to remove. He ignored all virtue and rational thought, accepting the woman's invitation to give the pert, rounded flesh a good squeeze.
So lost in the moment, they didn't notice the disapproving tutting-sounds coming from a very moody dark-haired female on the other side of the room. Apparently, her boyfriend chose to watch the overly-physical couple instead of paying attention to her.
A particularly obnoxious cough broke Vegeta and Ivy apart. The soldier scowled at the offending female, who merely smiled impudently.
Noticing the tension, Ivy stood up, taking Vegeta's hand in hers, "You wanna...?" She jerked her head slightly to a door opposite to the one they walked through earlier.
The pair walked across the sitting room and through the doorway, shutting the door behind them. The room they entered was about as big as the living room was, and just as messy. Severely dim light from the lamp on a cluttered nightstand illuminated a full-sized bed with nothing but a sheet on it. The room was cluttered with clothes piled on just about every surface available, except for the bed, and spots where numerous glass soda bottles and liquor bottles clustered together.
"Its not very romantic..." Ivy said apologetically, smiling ruefully.
Vegeta pulled the woman against his body, "I'm not much concerned about our surroundings," He said with a slight smile. He cupped the soft-skinned face in his hand and tilted his head slightly to engage into another fiery kiss.
Ivy of course, did not resist, only eagerly opening her mouth in order to accept the soldier's tongue, which was demanding entrance by running along the seam of her lips. She felt his hands slip downward along her body, feeling her curves through her thin dress. Her own hands slid once more up his sturdy chest and she began carefully undoing his buttons, as she knew how important it was that a soldier's uniform not get ruined.
A discomforted grunt escaped the uniform-clad man as he felt the tug of his tucked shirt against his arousal, but he refused to remove his lips from the other's. His own hands fumbled with the ties of the long leather sash Ivy wore around her waist, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor once untied. All she was left with was her red cotton dress that hung unflatteringly on her shoulders, and her beads and bangles. All it took was him smoothing the inch-wide sleeves off of her shoulders, and the dress fell to the floor with barely a sound.
He shook out of his green button-up, and slipped his undershirt over his head. Meanwhile, Ivy shimmied out of her underwear, thus becoming fully nude, save for her jewelry. Keeping her blue eyes tantalizingly locked on dark ones as she stepped backward enough until her thighs hit the low-sitting bed. She lay back, beckoning Vegeta with her sultry expression.
The young soldier admired the view of the woman laying back on her elbows as he dropped his sharply-creased pants to the floor. Excitement for what was to come coursed through him. The effect of the severely dim light shadowing the slight figure; her unusually-colored hair and earth-toned jewelry made her look like some sort of female companion offering from an exotic, unheard of land...and she was all his, at least for the night. All stereotypes he had placed on his one-time date were wiped from his mind.
"Lose the shorts," She demanded lowly, also staring exuberantly. What the soldiers were fighting for had nothing to do with how well they performed in bed, and that's all she cared about when she chose her lover for the night. She refused to date, being that she had troubles committing; there were just too many fish in the sea.
She was particularly fond of the beau she chose tonight. She could look past his silent facade, focusing more on his sturdy frame, bronzed skin (he must have spent a lot of shirtless hours in the sun working out!), and the straight-backed arrogant way he carried himself. She bit her lip in anticipation as the now nude soldier advanced toward her. His face was hidden in the shadows, save for a bit of light illuminating the space where his eyes were.
A thin hand reached up and wrapped around the dog-tags that hung around Vegeta's neck, gently pulling him downward. Their lips met once more, hungrily, with a note of desperation. Strong hands roved over soft, pliable curves until they reached smooth, shapely thighs.
Vegeta bit down softly on Ivy's bottom lip, then moved to her neck, earning a quiet sigh. His hand slid underneath the thigh, smoothing over the woman's ample bottom. He hitched the bend of the leg over his shoulder and used the other hand to grab hold of soft hair.
Ivy's breath hitched as the man didn't hesitate to enter her. Her inner muscles clenched wonderfully around him in eagerness for every nerve to be stimulated. Her arms hooked under his arms and her hands latched onto his firm shoulders. Her eyes wanted to flutter shut at the incredible feeling she loved so much; that took her away from the cares she was forced to be responsible of, but she found those dark orbs irresistible to look away from.
So lost in the fog of pleasure, the larger, heavier body pressed more upon hers. Their foreheads touched, slick with freshly-sprung sweat, but neither cared. Ivy's other leg slid upward and hooked around Vegeta's hip, making their position most awkward, but only increased the feeling almost painfully. Her soft cries drowned out the heavy breathing coming from the male as he drove harder into her.
Ivy's body rocked with the force exerted into her body. Her beads slid and clinked with the motion of her breasts bouncing. Suddenly, something small hit her chin; the action repeated with each thrust, and seemed unnoticed by the one causing it. She removed one of her hands from the shoulder and grabbed a hold of Vegeta's dog tags, which shone briefly in the light when they swayed forward. She glanced at them quickly in the light before swinging them behind their owner's neck; this, too went unnoticed.
A dull throb started growing in one of Vegeta's legs from the way he was bent over. He refused to halt his ministrations, however, and put up with it. The only hint that he was in any discomfort was the slightly-pained groans escaping his lips. Of course, his lover only took it as him really enjoying himself, causing her to intensify the volume of her own pleasured sounds.
He felt her walls clench tightly and pulse around his length and the feeling was almost over-stimulating. Her face, however, was breathtaking as her eyes shut and her mouth opened. The sweetest sound hit his ears and his name was called, surprisingly well-pronounced: "Vegeta!"
With his own climax nearing, he chose to focus more on that than the fact that she figured his name out. The feelings intensified as the first wave hit him full-on. His body clenched and his hand gripped the hair it still held, tugging the owner's head back. Once the mind-numbing, blissful feelings subsided to a pleasurable pulse, he gently kissed the pale neck beneath him before he fully relaxed.
Finally after their physically awkward position, they lay next to each other on the blanket-less mattress, still breathing pretty heavily. Both partner's legs were sore as hell, but each was quite satisfied. The sex was quick, but it was so good, and worth the wait.
"How'd you figure my name out?" Vegeta breathed, turning his head to face Ivy.
Since she faced away from the light, her figure was silhouetted. She turned completely on her side, which defined the roundness of her hips and legs. "Are you kidding?" She laughed, her old attitude returning to her, "Its on your dog-tags, man! Did you forget you were wearing them when you told me your name was Steven?"
"You're right, actually. I'm so used to wearing them, that I forget that I even have them on. Looks like you caught me." He then laughed at his own foolishness; making up a fake name was a silly idea. He felt strangely calm and open from the dopamine rush he received after such a stress-relieving and incredible climax.
Ivy's hand slid across Vegeta's chest to turn the dog tags over in it, examining the words engraved in the metal. "I like your name," She said, "Its better and more manly than," She giggled, "Steven."
"Shut up about the fake-name, already," He ground out, feeling heat rise to his face slightly, "I just thought it up because I didn't think about sharing my real name with you."
"Well, any other time, I would have been quite hurt," Ivy replied, now fiddling with one of her own necklaces, "But you see, I've been going by a pseudonym, as well."
Vegeta rolled onto his side and propped his head in his hand, "Oh?" He said in mock-curiosity, "And what might it be? Shooting Star or some far-out, wacky shit like that?"
"Ha, ha," The woman replied mockingly, "So says the man named Vegeta--what is it?--Levi. What is that some sort of European shit?"
The soldier frowned, "I'll have you know that my name comes from a line of proud Grecian warriors," His tone was arrogantly affronted, as if he considered it blasphemy to tease his name, "Leventis was what it originally was until my grandparents immigrated to New York and the officials bastardized it to Levi to simplify things."
"Oh, ho! Well, aren't we proud of ourselves! Well, since you've been so kind as to share this interesting bit of information with me, I'll tell you this," She cleared her throat obnoxiously, to which Vegeta rolled his eyes, "My real name is Bulma, Bulma Ganesvoort. I'm of Dutch heritage, and come from a family of entreprenures and inventors." She smiled proudly, herself. She always took great pride in being from a family of intellectuals, despite what most people thought about her counter-cultural, free-spirited attitude.
"And, in case you're wondering," She continued when the soldier didn't respond, "My hair color was from a hair-dying accident that I ended up sticking to. Its kinda my trademark."
Vegeta snorted, "Of course, because you lot are always trying shit that makes you unique and special." He rolled his eyes, letting them land on the lavender locks, "Purple." He finished with a scoff.
"Well there are some of us who prefer to step out of the norm," The woman argued, "And I didn't hear you complain one bit when you were tugging on it." She smiled victoriously, eyeing the man impishly. Vegeta didn't reply, refusing to give in and argue further.
They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of the record playing. The feeling of impending doom and responsibility started creeping its way back into Vegeta's mind. He had to leave in order to get back to Fort Ord in time. The hopes of getting a good night's rest were all but diminished; he'll definitely end up paying for it in the morning when he has to wake up at dawn to get on the plane.
"Don't you have to leave soon?" Bulma asked, as if she read his mind, "Not to rush you out, or anything..." She added quickly.
"I do," Vegeta answered, sitting up finally. He started gathering his clothes and putting them on, smoothing out any unsightly creases made while they were left on the floor in a heap. He was quite sure he looked fine, despite the fact that he didn't have a mirror to dress in front of.
Finally adjusting his collar and tucking his dog-tags down his shirt front. He stepped toward the doorway, with no intentions of looking back. He had to get back to base, as he had no more time to waste; sleep was calling.
"See ya around," Came Bulma's voice from the bed. She waved, but the motion went unnoticed as her one-time-lover left the room without looking back.
Converting /tmp/phpbFvo19 to /dev/stdout