Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Yumenimo ❯ Show Stopper ( Chapter 1 )

Standard Disclaimers:

I do not own Dragonball Z or any of its related merchandising rights. (I wish O.O) They belong to Akira Toriyama and all other associated parties. Also, I am not associated with George Lucas and the great sci-fi saga that is Star Wars and therefore I have no claim to their creation.

However, this story is my intellectual property and completely my fault for ever going to see Episode2 in the theater with my special someone. And, yes, I know that it's not out on VHS/DVD yet; I don't care. It's been too long since I saw it the 2nd weekend it was out. Heck, I don't even remember all of it. I actually started this a few months back, but that shows just how many other projects this was buried under. Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first DBZ fic - but mostly my first V/B. *sigh* I think I'm gonna regret ever starting this . . . -_-

Warnings:

Will, eventually, contain Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones content references, so if you haven't seen the movie yet you should go see it because you won't know what Bulma's talking about. (Bulma is watching it, after all) Seriously, it's a great movie! :) There's some swearing and hints of sex and . . . uh, feminine "issues." So beware! Oh, I'm trying a new format for flashbacks. Yup, that's something to warn about. *lol* As of yet, there are no major warnings, so this story is rated PG-13 for the moment. However, if I get enough of a response/inspiration, then I may add something worth warning you about. ;)

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Yumenimo

- not in one's wildest dreams

By Duo no Tsuin

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Chapter One

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"Oh, yeah. Time to start the show," Bulma cooed as she settled herself into the couch. It was a time to just relax. No fighting, no inventions - just herself and her favorite companions. "Let's see. The DVD's [1] in so all that's left is, " she spoke aloud as she surveyed the items on the coffee table, "hot 'n' fresh popcorn, a soda, and for later," her eyes strayed to the kitchen entrance as she dreamt of her sweet companion for the evening.

Dessert! She licked her lips at the thought.

Today her hot-date was a banana split -she planned on dousing it in hot fudge over french vanilla ice-cream and topping it with luscious red ripe strawberries- to snuggle up with on the couch during part-two in the classic epic . . . Star Wars. Yes, it was indulging a bit, but so what? She deserved a night off. Her stomach spoke to her. She wanted to eat it now and delight in its smooth texture and richness, but she had pre-planned on making it later that evening before her "favorite part."[2] She grinned. Episode2: Attack of the Clones. Who cares if this is the greatest story that never needed to be told? The point is that it was great even during its time. Bulma reached for the remote.

Of course, as Destiny often dictates, the phone rang.

Bulma's smile faded. Thanks a lot, D. [3] Oh, well, so much for my "hot-date." she sighed as she rose. The phone rang again. "Dammit, who is it now?"

She grabbed the phone off the wall. "Hel-lo?"

"Bulma?"

"Oh." It was Yamcha. What does he want now? For crying out loud, he told me to call yesterday, he never answered, I left a message telling him to call me back, and he never did. Well, not until now. Still, I don't want to talk to him. "Hi, Yamcha."

"Hey, babe."

Bulma sighed. There goes my perfect evening. "So . . . I called yesterday and left a message. Where were you?"

"I was out with some guys from work."

"That's all?" What about after? You did go home, right?

"Yeah."

"So . . . did you get my message?" Why didn't you call me back yesterday?

"No. What did you say?"

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The day before
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*beep*

"Yamcha, you told me to call. So what are you up to? Do you feel like going out tomorrow since we usually do go out on Saturday night? Well, anyway, give me a call when you get this message . . . I love you."

*click*

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Present
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Bulma sighed. "Nothing special, just . . . to call me back."

"Ah."

"Why didn't you call me back when you got home?"

"Eh, I got back late. You know how it is."

"I can only imagine." And the things I imagine are enough to make me wanna puke. Images of bright lights, dancing poles, crumpled up dollar bills, cheap liquor, and strippers fill her head. Bulma shook her head. But that's not fair of me. I mean, how can I expect him to trust me if I don't trust him?

"You alright, Bulma? You sound bored. You want me to come pick you up or something? We can come back to my place . . . "

In her memory, Bulma journeyed back to the previous weekend. Flashes of flesh, motion, noise, and Yamcha . . .

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The weekend before
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"Wow, that was wonderful, babe. You really know how to have a good-time."

Bulma curled up next to Yamcha. And held onto him tight. "Are you hungry or thirsty, or anything?"

"Gee, Bulma, if you want something just ask."

"I don't need anything. Except . . . " I don't need to finish. At least he's happy.

"Except, what?"

"Just hold me, Yamcha." Please, at least give me that.

"Sure, babe. And we'll get you some breakfast later."

"Okay." Bulma snuggled into his arms. Moments later, she was drifting off to sleep . . .

"Oh man. I forgot!" Yamcha jumped up and started throwing on random clothes from the heap of dirty laundry on his floor.

Bulma was shocked from her attempted rest and she sat up. "F-forgot what, Yamcha? Where are you going?" A wad of clothes hit her stomach.

"Here, get dressed. I forgot that I had a meeting scheduled for this morning."

"A-a meeting?" Bulma stammered as she hesitantly got dressed.

"Yeah. I guess you'll have to take a raincheck on that breakfast," Yamcha said as he put on his shoes.

"Um, that's okay." But that's not what I wanted, she thought while she toed on her shoes. "Some other time, then."

Yamcha grabbed his wallet and keys. "You got everything?"

"Uh, yeah," Bulma answered as she picked up her purse off of the floor. Except some painkillers. She rubbed her temple. Why is it that when you get startled from sleep you end up with a throbbing headache!

Together, they walked out of the apartment and downstairs to the cars. "You can drive yourself home, right?"

"Well, yeah," she gestured to her hover-car. "I drove myself here, remember?"

"That's great." Yamcha pecked her on the cheek and jumped into his car. "Call me." Then he sped off, leaving Bulma standing lonely in a cloud of dust.

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Back to the present
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Ten bucks says he expects us to have sex.

"Hey, Bulma, you there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm here."

"Bulma, you don't seem like yourself."

And exactly, what is that? "No, Yamcha. I'm fine."

"You sure? You sound moody. And whenever you're that way you get all bitchy and try to start a fight-"

"I'm not moody or bitchy, dammit! Is it so hard to ask for one night alone without anyone to rescue me and reduce me to some damn damsel in distress?"

"Um, no. Look, Bulma, if you don't want to go out with me and would rather stay home, why didn't you say so?"

"Huh?"

He's right, you know. You could have just said, "No thank you, Yamcha, but thanks for asking." What the Hell, you are moody. You got what you always wanted. Remember on Namek when you dreamed of a "knight in shining armor?"

Yeah, I guess I did. I've found him, haven't I? My knight was always supposed be thinking of me. He'd be kind and gentle, but strong and confident. Hn. The dreaded "Princess of Capsule Corp" strikes again. Who am I to wish for my prince? Was I always so . . . "bitchy?" I don't remember being that way when I was looking for the dragonballs with Goku. No, I don't; that was fun. Well, I was edgy when I met Oolong, but he deserved it. Stupid Piggy. And then came Yamcha . . .

. . . remember when he used to tremble and act like a teen-age geek? Ha, those were the days. He was putty in your hands . . . but things change. He grew up. Did you?

"I-I'm sorry, Yamcha. I've had a hard week. I know you don't like me to talk shop,[4] but there is some big project that I'm working on that I just can't quite get right-"

"Aw, come on, Bulma. You know that shop talk is so serious that it just wigs you out to talk about it."

"Oh. Well, I won't get into it, then."

"So . . . your heart's really set on staying home."

"Yeah. Like I said, a tough week."

"Ugh, you mean, that week!"

"No! I mean, it hasn't started yet."

There was a pause. Vaguely, Bulma thought she heard him inhaling a deep breath. "When, then?"

"This weekend, I think."

"You think."

"Yeah."

For the first time, there was silence on the other line.

"You . . . want me to call you later? I mean, after the movie?"

"Sure, whenever. Talk to you later, babe."

"Bye Yamcha, I love-"

*click*

"-you."

Bulma held the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment. That was weird. What's up with him? Oh well. I'll just . . . call him later.

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To be continued.

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*sigh* Ugh, I know. What made me go from the happy beginning to this? No, I'm not moody. I'm just . . . almost sad. It's too cold here. I want some hot fudge to cuddle up with. Send all comments, questions, and suggestions to duonotsuin@yahoo.com

[1] I'm making one huge ass assumption that DVD's will still exist in the future. And they had better not have any defects then.

[2] What's Bulma's favorite part? (keep tuning in to find out) Well, just answer this question, during which part of the movie would you like a banana split? O.o

[3] My good friend Kirei Tenshi and I have this little theory about Unmei, or Destiny, as we usually call her. She just loves a good laugh . . . usually at our expense, of course. Still, she has her way of making anything possible - even the idea that a once vengeful alien could have a heart. I'm looking at you, Veggie-Boy. ^_~

[4] How should I explain this one? Let's just say that in my universe Bulma can sometimes get a little bit too technical, and rather than come off as stupid Yamcha says he doesn't want to hear about her job. *shrugs* I'm pulling this outta my butt here, so bear with me.