I have recently developed an obsession with Def Leppard (oh boy), hence this story. I'm using all the songs from their greatest hits album Vault, hence the title. And just for fun, I will have comments on each song from the band, taken from the liner notes in said album. So, here we go.


Kind of got written by accident at the end of the "Hysteria" sessions. Turned out to be one of the most important songs we ever did. Pure sex. (Joe)


Chapter 1:

Pour Some Sugar on Me

Tom Hanson sighed as he unlocked the door to his apartment. It had been a long, tiring day with an even harder, more draining case. Right now, all he wanted was a hot shower and bed.

So when he opened the door, walked in, and turned on the lights, he jumped when a very familiar female voice said, "Hi."

The undercover officer gasped, "Judy! What are you doing and how did you get in here?"

"Waiting for you, and I picked the lock."

"Uh, why?"

She uncrossed long, slender coffee-colored legs and rose from his couch. Her chestnut-brown hair, while as curly as always, was up in a high ponytail, and even though she was dressed casually in denim shorts and a hunter-green T-shirt, something about her seemed to be enticing him. Tom shook his head wearily; he was already tired, so maybe he'd actually fallen asleep and was dreaming.

The fantasy was, unfortunately, short-lived as harsh, low voices issued from his sound system:

Step inside, walk this way.
You and me babe, hey hey!

Hanson groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Jude, I'm tired. All I want to do is sleep."

"Not when I'm through with you."

As he looked at her in confusion, she grinned and began moving sinuously to the chords of the Def Leppard hit, crooking an index finger at him when the lead vocalist began singing:

Love is like a bomb, baby c'mon get it on.
Livin' like a lover with a radar phone.
Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp.
Demolition woman, can I be your man?
(Your man, hey hey!)

Tom stared, thinking, What—exactly—is she doing and why is she doing it? Nice dance moves, though.

Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light.
Television lover, baby, go all night.
Sometime anytime sugar me sweet.
Little miss innocent, sugar me, yeah, yeah.

Come on! Take a bottle, shake it up.
Break the bubble, break it up.

And if he had started to move closer to her, well, that was nobody's business, was it? Suddenly Hanson was wide awake.

Pour some sugar on me, ooh, in the name of love.
Pour some sugar on me, c'mon fire me up.
Pour your sugar on me, I can't get enough.
I'm hot, sticky sweet, from my head to my feet, yeah.

Breathing hard, Judy stilled when he came up behind her, her skin sticky with sweat. Oddly enough, Tom didn't mind. He still wasn't sure why she was here, but an idea was slowly forming in the back of his mind as he began massaging her tight biceps and triceps and she relaxed into him. "Feels good," she murmured, eyes closed, head tilted back.

Listen, red light, yellow light, green light go.
Crazy little woman in a one-man show.
Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love.
Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up.
(Loosen up.)
I loosen up.

"Y'know, you do have to loosen up a bit, Hanson," Hoffs muttered under her breath.

"And you are slightly crazy, Jude. Have you been drinking?"

Turning around, she gave him a flirtatious smile. "Maybe. Or maybe not." Her hands slid up across his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck.

You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little, tease a little more.
Easy operator come a-knockin' on my door.
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet.
Little miss innocent, sugar me, yeah, yeah.
Give a little more.

Take a bottle, shake it up.
Break the bubble, break it up.

Pour some sugar on me, ooh, in the name of love.
Pour some sugar on me, c'mon fire me up.
Pour your sugar on me, I can't get enough.
I'm hot, sticky sweet, from my head to my feet, yeah.

Caught up in the moment, Tom ducked his head down and, giving in to temptation, brought his mouth to hers in a hot, searching kiss. How long had he been wanting to do this?

And it was clearly what Hoffs wanted, since it didn't take much of an invitation for her to respond. Already he couldn't have enough of her. Like the song said . . . well, no need to go into detail.

Hanson forgot where he was until, much to his disappointment, Hoffs stepped back, an impish look on her face. "You all right?" she asked.

No, he bloody well wasn't. Did she have to rile him up and then leave?

You got the peaches, I got the cream,
Sweet to taste, saccharine.
'Cause I'm hot, so hot, sticky sweet,
(Hot!)
From my head, my head, to my feet.
(Head!)
Do you take sugar, one lump or two?

Take a bottle, take a bottle.
Shake it up, shake it up.
Break the bubble, break it up.
Break it up.

Watching Hoffs through a haze of frustrated desire and knowing the song was almost over, Tom stepped closer, drew her to him. As wrong as it may be, he wanted her . . . and could never have enough. The fact she was sweet to taste—saccharine—didn't help.

Pour some sugar on me, ooh, in the name of love.
Pour some sugar on me, c'mon fire me up.
Pour your sugar on me, oh, I can't get enough.
Pour some sugar on me, oh, in the name of love.

Pour some sugar on me, get it, come get it.
Pour your sugar on me, ooh.
Pour some sugar on me, yeah.
Sugar me.

He had to bite back a frustrated noise when she stepped back again, breathing heavily—and not just from the dancing she'd been doing at the beginning of the song. "C'mon, Jude, stop teasing me."

"Song's over, Hanson," she retorted, but Tom could tell she was fighting back a smile.

"Well, in that case . . ." He started to walk over to the stereo, but before he reached it, he could hear the opening to "Pour Some Sugar on Me" as the song began replaying. Shooting Hoffs a bewildered look, the next thing he knew, Judy was leading him into his bedroom.

There goes any chance of sleeping tonight.