Title - Breathless
Summary - Kenny had a solution for everything. Except this.
Note: Ok, this is my first time trying a yaoi story in this fandom so please let me know what you think!

Tyson did it all the time; a hand on the shoulder here, a pat on the back there, and, sometimes, he'd even get an arm thrown around his neck for a job well done. He wasn't sure that Tyson noticed when a squeeze would follow that arm-sling, but he noticed.

Or, more correctly, his heart noticed. How else was he to explain the sudden onset of palpitations his heart would encounter from a mere touch? In fact, he did just that – tried to explain it away. Because there had to be some sort of logical explanation behind such a visceral reaction. His results were feeble at best: due to the sudden nature of the playful displays, his body reacted accordingly. His heart skipped a beat and his breath shot out of his lungs and the little hairs on his neck rose but that was normal when surprise touches were…just that. A surprise. Normal.

All normal.

Because Tyson was a very tactile person. Touches were just that, touches. There was no hidden meaning behind them, no matter how many times he analyzed the way Tyson's fingers brushed against the curve of his neck or the extra-long second his hand lingered on his shoulder or how when was pulled right up against Tyson's side and fit like a slotted puzzle piece.

It meant nothing. It couldn't mean anything. He analyzed things all the time. That's what he was known for. He analyzed beyblades – theirs and their opponents – he analyzed people, he analyzed books, puzzles, riddles, conundrums, data, technology, engineering, anything and everything he could get his hands on. Getting to the bottom of things was his thing. He needed to have the upper hand, to have all the answers to make decisions and know where to go next.

But where does one go from here?

"Hey Chief! Done with Dragoon yet?"

His adam's apple bobbed due to his heavy gulp. It wasn't the sheer volume of Tyson's inquiry that startled him, more so than the hot breath that ghosted past his ear. He felt Tyson by his shoulder, hovering, his body heat radiating off him in waves that struck him over and over and over again. He held still. One turn of his head, no matter how slight, would bring them together. Too close together. His eyelids fluttered shut, he took in a long breath and forced it back out as he willed his muscles to keep from shaking.

"Um, well, a-almost. I need to run some more tests. Dragoon sustained, um, a significant amount of damage in your last battle with Max."

"Heheh, guess Maxie wasn't holdin' back that time, eh? No problem." Tyson's hand clamped down on Kenny's shoulder. Electric shocks spread out from beneath Tyson's fingertips and spread like spiderwebs through his body. "If anyone can fix Dragoon, it's you!"

Tyson lifted his hand, though not before Kenny felt Tyson's fingers squeeze his shoulder. Or maybe – more accurately, he convinced himself – the added pressure was due to Tyson using his shoulder for leverage to get back to his feet as he shouted at Kai and Ray, "Hang on, guys! Kenny's gotta get set up!"

Fingers stilling upon the battered edges of Dragoon's attack ring, Kenny's ears buzzed. A flush appeared on his cheeks and heat became trapped beneath his collar. He fumbled with Dragoon, cradling the Beyblade to his chest. He held the treasured prize, secure for a moment, and then only when he was sure he had a grip on the Beyblade did he adjust the camera attached to his laptop and hit a button, ensuring the recording pointed straight at the dish with a clear picture of the battle to come.

It wasn't until now he appreciated having overgrown bangs. His focus pulled this way and that, like an elongated game of tug-o-war with Dragoon on one side and Tyson on the other. If he kept his head still Tyson wouldn't notice. He'd never been the obvious sort, Tyson. In fact, oblivious could be his middle name. But the qualities he lacked were made up for tenfold when it came to his unwavering loyalty. And if it were directed at one person? They'd be the luckiest person in the world.

What if it were me?

He almost heard steam whistling from his ears as heat shot up from his neck to the top of his head. No, no, no. Erase. Abort. Delete! He shook his head; his unkempt hair flying this way and that in an effort to scrub his mind. Tyson's focus would always be on his Beyblade, his next fight, his next opponent, his next win.

If he could contribute to that, then…it was better than nothing.

Stop it! Fantasies have no basis in reality!

He briefly set Dragoon down and slapped his cheeks. The brief sting was a welcomed punishment for entertaining such thoughts when he had tinkering to do. So, he set his head down and got to work. But it was hard. Boy, was it hard. Every shout of encouragement from Tyson pulled him in, his support intoxicating and alluring all at once. His hands stilled and his breath sucked right out of his lungs at the intensity in Tyson's eyes, the confidence in his stance, the curve of his lips…

Enough!

Kenny stood, stumbled through a mumbled apology about needing extra parts, and dashed inside the dojo. He pulled the sliding wall shut and leaned against it, his eyes squeezing shut, allowing colors to pop and swim around in his vision. He struck the back of his head against the wall in a rhythm equating to his frustration and groaned.

This was getting out of hand. It was easier when BEGA was around, when Ming-Ming was around. He could bury everything else and bring his fascination with her to the forefront. Because that's all it really was, deep down. A fascination. There weren't many people who could juggle two careers – two drastically different careers – and do it so well. And he did enjoy her songs; the titles and lyrics could use a little work but the composition, production, and sound were what drew him in. He saw and out when Hilary made an offhand comment and so…he embellished things a little. It was so exhausting.

He was so tired of being exhausted.

But that's what he had to do. To keep the peace, to keep things normal, to protect himself. Tyson wasn't exactly careful with others, Hilary could attest to that. He'd spent many nights on the phone with her, doing next week's homework as she ranted and raved and cried about the things that he'd said to her. He would hear her voice crack, hear the emotion wrapped around her words, hear the unshed tears catapulting her woes. It hurt his heart. She was much stronger than he and if Tyson could do this to her…what would he do to him?

No, he couldn't risk it.

Kenny steeled his jaw and went to work. He sorted his extra parts, went over the notes for them all, and tinkered with Dragoon. Through a plethora of trial and error he finally came up with a repair that he was proud of. He took care to wipe off any smudge, any microscopic fleck of dirt that could interfere with Dragoon's performance with his coveted eyeglass cloth. As he held Dragoon up to the sunlight that filtered in through the high window he beamed. Perfect.

The moment he opened the sliding door again he nearly ran right into Tyson, jumping backwards at the last moment. "Sorry, Chief! I was callin' ya, don't think you heard me though." He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke and looked down on his shorter friend. Or perhaps Kenny was just noticing the extra inches that had graced his newly lean frame. Muscles had appeared on his arms and legs and even his face appeared leaner; a far cry from the more rotund shape Tyson carried back when he won his first World Championship. "Whoa, is that Dragoon!"

His friend's outburst brought him back to reality. Kenny gave his head a shake and then extended his hand, presenting Dragoon to his wielder. "Just got a few tweaks done. I'm, um, trying a new weight disk, to see if it increases Dragoon's—"

His nose scratched against the fabric of Tyson's shirt, his lips pressed straight up against his friend's chest and the air in his lungs escaped in one woosh as Tyson squeezed him so hard he almost felt his bones creak. "Chief! This is so awesome! You're the best!" He grasped Kenny by the shoulders and smiled down at him before taking Dragoon from his still extended, now a little shaky, hand. "I can't wait to try this baby out! Oh yeah, we're gonna rule the dish!" He clapped his hand on Kenny's shoulder. "Thanks again, buddy!"

"N-no problem, Tyson," he managed to utter. He followed Tyson outside on shaky legs and hovered near the door as he rushed up to the dish, announcing that he wanted a rematch with Max as soon as Kai and Ray were done. If his heart were a sentient being, he was sure it would burst out of his chest and follow Tyson around.

But, instead, he had to settle for this: for the moments where he could sit back and watch Tyson in his prime, see the fire of challenge and competition light up his eyes, feel the waves of confidence radiate off him, and watch the time and effort he put into a blade create success for his long-time friend. Friend.

Because that's all he was and all he would be and he was fine with that. Really, he was. Because he could hold onto the fact that he was responsible for that smile on Tyson's face and he'll play a hand in all of Tyson's successes and he could hold onto the memories of the hugs that left him breathless.

After all, Tyson did it all the time.

So, what did you think? After rewatching G Revolution I always felt like Kenny's obsession over Ming-Ming could be seen as a bit excessive. And then I thought back to previous beyblade episodes where Kenny would blush due to Tyson's praise and happiness over how Dragoon came out after a tune-up. So it got me thinking...what if Kenny had a crush on Tyson? And this little story came out! I do have a short story idea to expand on this that I want to put up one day but I'll see how this one goes first. You can find me on tumblr at ceruleanmusings if you'd like to chat about beyblade or anything really; I'm always up for meeting new people to talk about my favorite anime show.

Please read and review!