Title: Let It Be

Author: Sasha A.Y.

Rating: T

Warning: Strong language, Mariah-bashing, Yaoi, substance

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade (because it's not yaoi) nor any of its characters. Don't sue, please. All the original characters from this fiction belongs only to me.

A/N: Wow, I can't believe I'm actually making a commitment to write a freaking fic! Hopefully it doesn't go too bad and will go down well. This is a comedy so beware of some OCC-ness but it will not be too overwhelming. Hopefully I'll update fast enough for viewers. I'm still a student and I work so it will be hard but I will make time for it. Promise (with a pinky!).

This fic takes place few years after the third season, in Ray's point of view.

Enjoy, and R&R!

Let It Be

Sasha A.Y.

Usually, I'm not the kind of person that really stays stuck in a crappy mood like I am in right now. Many people who (don't) really know me enough to have mastered the ability to read my dark (and slightly retarded?) mind will tell you that heck! Ray is the sorta person that will always be smiling no matter what kind of occasion it is, even if he has to marry the one person he had tried in many times to avoid like a health-nut to a McDonald burger. And I did, in the end, succeeding in that particular task to my utter amazement.

But this. This may be even worse than getting married to your annoying little sister and thus effectively sealing any hope of you ever having a story book happy ending you have always dreamt of.

May be.

Unfortunately thinking of what could possibly be worse than the situation I am currently cursed in and that the said situation is in fact a reality does not make this situation any better. In fact, it has reminded me that after I am done with my final task here, the only thing awaiting in my (supposed to be) sweet home will be an angry housewife ready to tear my eyes out of their proper sockets while the said housewife is in expensive pink silk bathrobe, Lancôme's pink face mask (there are in fact such things on planet earth), pink ceramic hair-rollers, and freshly done pink French-manicured nails being the only one who is of any concern to the housewife during the painful eye-tearing session. Did I mention the color of which all the things are in my house? Let me repeat, in case I didn't. Pink. Ever since my marriage I think I've developed a phobia to the color.

Damn it! Why do I always forget to put down the freaking blinds? The scorching bright sunlight washing out the pristine white walls of my refrigerator-box shaped office are doing nothing for my dark mood or my sensitive retina. I would have permanently painted the windows with black paint if it wasn't for the teensy little fact that this spacious office is not a property of mine as of today. Got a problem with that? You can go straight to the centre core of this 60 story building, to the office with no windows (jealous), shriveled up plants, where even the devil himself would be afraid to tread and knock (if you dare) on the harsh metal door and speak (if you still dare) to The Bitch.

The Bitch is the quite befitting and handy nickname I have given to my not so beloved boss, the 45 years-old Ms. Nancy Kingston. Don't let the innocent-as-a-southern-cookie-selling-girl-for-charity name fool you. And yes, I did not make a mistake when I said Miss. Despite her rather impressive advancement in the aging department, she is not married; the reason being that the no sane man of this world would ever, ever get within a mile radius of her. Only a person like Bryan would… But considering he's not really what one would call "sane"…

Though I am a grown man standing 5 feet 10 inches, The Bitch is still an inch or two taller than me. Her military-trained shoulders and back does the (un)necessary talking when her head is facing away from you. I once tried to measure her back when she had turned around but my survival instinct told me not to take out my meter stick and get close to her. She gets into a "self-defense" mode when you get into her personal space (not that you'd ever want to in the first place) and does what her animalistic instinct tells her to do; fight. Once, a young woman (a new employee) got in there to pick up a pencil The Bitch has dropped, and she did not survive…

All right, so I'm exaggerating. She did in the end make it, but she was in a coma for a couple of days plus 3 months of intensive hospital care. And a year of therapy for the trauma she has suffered through. Yeah, like I need that right now.

I don't understand why Mr. Dickenson hired her in the first place. I guess she must've had the proper training for the job she is in right now but still! Look at her! She is a hazard to the workmen around her. I'm surprised nobody put up a court case against her all this time. But then again, you really wouldn't if you want to live even up till the due court date. Restraining order just won't do it.

My sensitive eyes finally adjust to the blinding room. Man, I really have to get started if I want to clear out my stuff by the end of today. I'm not a very organized person and my office looks like it's just been through hell, or through The Bitch on one of her erratic rampages. That women (if she is in fact one) is like a stampede of elephants times infinity.

"Need help?"

That familiar soothing voice does not have its normal affects on me. Actually my current disastrous situation took place because of him. Why on earth did he decide to work at the BBA headquarters? Most people (well, everybody during the championships) including me thought he'd hole up in some wintry Siberian place feeding wolves their deers or whatever they eat but instead he decided work for the good of the sport of beyblading. The irony.

"I don't really want to speak to you right now."

My curt reply does nothing for him and he glides into the room anyway. Yeah, Tala doesn't walk, he glides everywhere even on concrete. I don't know how he does it. I'm part cat and I don't even walk like that.

Although I have my back turned against him I can still tell what he's doing thanks to my keen ears. He's bustling about, picking up some of the trash that has been starting an environmentally hazardous landfill site in the corner next to a full garbage can. I'm still trying to put all my books and paperwork into a neat pile on a humongous cardboard box I found in the recycling room but as my room screams, I'm just not an organized person. Huh, there's the page with all the important phone numbers that I 'lost' couple months ago. Who'd have thought it would be stuck on page 62 of "How to become a better lover… in Bed?". Why do I even have this book? What could I have possibly been trying to…

Whoa. Okay, better get that out of sight before Tala sees i-

"What are you doing there?" I hear him 'glide' over. Shit, I better hide this somewhere.

"Nothing! Just… Ow!"

Just freaking wonderful. Nothing like a severe paper cut to brighten up one's mood. Don't you just hate paper cuts? I mean, look. You're doing basically nothing, minding your own business, and an inanimate object- wait. Inanimate seemingly harmless object like a paper decides to go against you and cut you. Paper cuts aren't big enough for a band-aid, and yet they hurt like hell.

"What's wrong?" Tala, now on my right looks at me.

I got to say Tala looks especially angelic and tempting standing in front of sunlight like that. His pale skin just glows like a stray light from heaven. His fiery red hair a perfect contrast to his milky skin. I can see a few freckles from here but that just adds to his innocent child-like looks. His ice-blue eyes are filled with concern and his pale pink lips… No, no! I'm supposed to be angry right now! He cost you your job! Your 20 dollars an hour job! And you don't even have a high school diploma.

" Oh nothing. Just got fired you know? I'll get over it. It's not like I have a family to support or anything."

Tala narrows his eyes but he says nothing. He'd better not! It's just as much his fault as it is mine. The only reason he didn't get his ass fired is that he's doing some real important stuff right now at the top of BBA. Yeah, he's pretty smart. That just adds salt to the wound. What, I'm not an employee of equal importance to the BBA? I stood by their side ever since I was drafted for the Bladebreakers, and Tala here was on the super evil side first, then came over, yet they trust him more with all the important stuff and not me. Yeah I'm an uneducated country farm boy but I deserve some respect for being there for them the whole time! I could tell Mr. Dickenson of this and try to save my ass but getting caught in a… 'heated' situation with another in the photocopying room which is really public for all really isn't the sort of thing you want to tell a traditional old man like Mr. D., especially since the said lover is a male. A damn fine male…

Something suddenly grabs my left hand which I had been holding with my right without me knowing. Oh, it's Tala. Well, duh, Ray. Who else is in the room? I tend to really space out from time to time and get lost in my own head… Wow, that sounds so moronic. But then again, I am pretty dumb so I… guess… it doesn't matter…? Shouldn't matter? ...Whatever.

"A paper cut." Tala states. Well, yeah it is.

"So?"

My nasty tone once again has no wanted affect on him. What, is my voice some kind of an annoying background noise that anybody can just drain out? I want to be heard from time to time! Through my inner turmoil, I am aware that Tala is looking calmly at my finger. It's actually really scary. Considering the disturbing past this redhead has had, I still don't know if he will spontaneously break out into evil cackle at the sight of red drops of blood that is now seeping through my cut skin. I hope he doesn't because if he does, I will have to push him through the glass window of this office on the 20th floor, effectively killing him in the process and adding murder to my records. Also, the only source of happiness in my otherwise tragic life will be gone, and I don't want that… Do I? Nope. Definitely not. Chances of that happening are slim to nil but hey, you should never be off guard…

Wow. That last thought has brought back some painful memories about a certain person… in the past…

Sudden feeling of wetness snaps me out of my thoughts and I look to the direction. It's Tala. He has my bleeding finger in his mouth lightly patting the blood away with his tongue. Damn. He always knows which buttons to press. He's peering at me through his two stranded bangs and I can't help but blush and resist a moan at the sensation.

When he's done, he holds my hand and guides me to my desk. He takes a band aid out of my drawer and bandages up the wound. How on earth does he find these little things in this shit hole? Again, my ever inferior intelligence and organizing skills shine through like fireworks on the night of New Year's Eve.

"You know, a paper cut isn't big enough for a band-aid." I stiffly state while he's wrapping the strap around the tip of my fourth finger.

"Relax. One band-aid used on a paper cut won't kill anyone." Tala says, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Wait just one nose picking minute.

I take my hand away from his and look at him square in the eyes.

"Tala. You do realize I'm serious right now (for once). I just got fired. Fired Tala. Do you know what this means? It's not just getting fired. I have a family. A kid. I can't get fired! What am I going to tell Mariah? As much as I want to leave her, I can't let Rose have a father who can't even support her, or even worse, lose her! God. You're un-freaking-believable-"

I'm suddenly speechless. My lips, which has been flapping about around 100 miles a second, is stopped when another, stronger, warmer force is on it. At first I want to break off. I want to tell Tala off and blame him but his arms have moved up and are around my waist and my arms aren't doing much other than holding the front of his shirt.

Well, Damn. How on earth am I suppose to resist this? Well, if I could, then I wouldn't have had willingly taken my clothes off in the building and get the same semi-exposed ass fired now would I?

I lose control (as always) and I give in to my physical needs first, responding, craving him. God he tastes just like honey. His kisses are tender and giving yet he does not lose the control of it. I try a couple times to dominate but he has the height advantage. I give up and am content to just follow him, breaking off for a couple nanoseconds for a breath here and there.

After God knows how long, the need for oxygen becomes too great and we break off, panting and sweating, but still holding each other like it's our lifeline.

"I hate you." I mumble into his shirt.

"I love you too." He mumbles back. His head is on my head and he is twirling his slim fingers around my hair. I'll have to brush out the knots later. If I wait until the night, then it'll just end up looking like one massive hair ball (no pun intended).

The said slim fingers have now crawled underneath my dress shirt and are caressing my back. His fingers are relatively cool to my heated skin and the stark contrast makes me gasp and arch my back against him, goosebumps covering my whole body. What am I doing? I should be angry and seething and blaming the infuriating bastard but… But I just can't seem to get enough of him. Haven't I learned my lesson already? If getting fired isn't the key to getting away, then I doubt there really is anything else… Unless somebody threatens to take Rose away from me that is. Then I would willingly throw Tala out the window (again) and wrestle the wretched man to death for her.

Now who on earth is this Rose you might ask? Well, I darn well forgot to tell you simpletons about the other source of happiness of my otherwise tragic life haven't I. Silly me.

Rose. Well, to put it simply, is my daughter. Surprised? You should be because I sure as hell was when I got the news that Mariah was pregnant when the only time we ever had sex was the night of our honeymoon. Feel free to think that I'm pulling your short unshaven legs but I certainly am not. I'm dead serious. Few months after our honeymoon, Mariah was bawling her eyes out telling me that she was pregnant after she got back from a clinic downtown Tokyo. Oh no. Mariah doesn't trust the whole home-checking thing. She has to go to a professional to tell her that after weeks of morning-vomiting, pigging-out-on-pickles, and the fact that she has not had her period for 3 months wasn't enough to get it through her thick skull. I just didn't expect it because I don't pay attention to her on my best of days so why the hell should I on any other ordinary days? I do my best to drown out her shrilly screeching at home and make any sort of desperate excuses not to get in bed with her.

The honeymoon thing… I had no way of getting out of. And to be honest, I'm a guy too. I mean, I'm a bi, so I still do get turned on by hot girls. Don't be confused, Mariah isn't hot by any means, but after bottles and bottles of vodka in a feeble attempt to die of alcohol poisoning had the opposite effect, and made Mariah's body actually…. (all right, I'll say it) desirable, for some sort of release (no pun intended). Come on, she isn't morbidly obese or anything.

When Mariah came bursting through the door, I thought our latest supply of chocolate chip cookies have run out and stood up to go to the Uncle-Charlie's-Chocolate-Chip-Cookies boutique to get some but instead got run over by a heavy pink fur ball down to the ground. When she first told me through her snorting and sniffing, I thought I was finally hearing things after several months of my head eating the floor due to Mariah's "salutations", mainly involving full-body wrestling tackles that's enough to knock even Gary out.

Um… What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Rose. Yeah, so that's basically how she came about. I can proudly say to little children around the world, that I finally know where babies come from. Rose... I can't believe a creature like her came out of the Revolting Pink Harpee. I'm not all that great of a human specimen either but think about it. Two negatives make a positive. I guess that's the case in this one. Thank God though. If she was anything like Mariah… I don't think I would've been able to take it. I think I might've done something very morally wrong and leave her and the may-have-been-mini-she(devil). Considering that I don't really give a hoot about morality, and that I would've happily strangled her neck before, it really wouldn't have been a problem.

However, Rose turned out to be the most angelic little thing I've ever seen. That's saying a lot since I've seen Max's baby photos. He should've been in Huggies commercial or something… But then again, they would've just caught a blurred yellow blob on the photo instead of a normal two-years old.

Rose is now five years-old, but is extremely smart. I tell you, this girl is nothing like me or Mariah. Well, actually, her outer appearance is quite like me. It's the dark hair. I have darker hair than Mariah, so it's more dominant, therefore is expressed while Mariah's pink hair is hidden somewhere in the chromosomes… Deep down where I hope to never see it surface on top of Rose's beautiful black head. And for the sudden surge of wisdom about dominant-recessive gene thing? Well, I'm just one of those people who have seen House one too many times. Admit it, you've seen it too.

Huh? Is it just me or did the room suddenly get a little colder?

Oh. It's Tala. He noticed my lack of enthusiasm for sensual groping and now has moved away. Well, you'd think that he'd get pretty pissed off of my suddenly dry reaction, but it's quite frequent actually. I told you. I tend to really space out. Tala noticed this after a couple months with me and does not take offense to it. Come on. I'm Ray. What do you expect? Normal human behaviour?

Tala has now been with me ever since the third tournament terminated. I got employed at the BBA headquarters in Tokyo, and as he did too. We actually weren't all that close in the beginning. I had some reservations for him even after the whole turning-to-a-good-guy thing during the third championships because… Well, Tala's Bryan's captain, and thus keeps in contact with him and anything or anyone that's even remotely related to Bryan, I want to condemn to the deepest pits of hell. I once went to the mall for god knows what and was passing by American Eagles when I saw their eagle logos on the sweaters, and was so tempted to go in and tear those sweaters to bits. But, to save myself from forcibly being confined into the nearest mental institution (or jail), I didn't. Though sadly, I do sometimes think I do belong in there for the safety of both me and those around me (excluding Mariah).

Despite my early uncertainties, I did get acquainted with him (obviously). He actually is a pretty friendly person, which surprised me a lot. Well… Actually, he isn't friendly. I don't know. He was just okay-ish for me in the beginning and really didn't talk to anyone else, nor talk to anyone else now. Anywho, we became friends. His shoulder was there for me to cry on when I finally (despite my desperate attempts to break free) got married to Mariah. After that, we became lovers.

I don't even exactly know what or who caused it, but I think we sort of just… melted into it. Neither of us actually even stated that we are together. It just sort of happened. One day he was a friend, the next, we were eating each other's faces off. I don't know. It's complicated, and being the simple minded country folk that I am, I don't want to think about it.

"It's not fair." I said. Random? Yeah, but I just felt like I needed to tell Tala that this whole situation was not fair.

"What?"

"We were both in equal amount of trouble, and yet I'm the only one getting fired."

"Because-"

"I know, I know. The whole… big project thing. What the hell is it about anyhow?"

"Can't tell you. Company secret." Of course. The Party-pooper.

"Come on. You can do better than that."

"Sorry kiddo, I'm all out of quarters." And he smiles. Don't freak out. I told you, friendly only to me. And it doesn't even matter because that makes him so gosh-darn cute!

The whole room is quite now that both of us have made a silent pact of actually cleaning up the Mount Fuji of trash that my once upon a time ago was a clean office. That reminds me… Wasn't there something I wanted to keep a secret…?

"Wow Ray. So, this is the position you were trying to do to me in the photocopying room? I'd be happy to try it now if you want." Tala snickers. The little bastard.

"Please. I don't need any more witnesses to our condemned relationship. The Bitch was quite, enough. "

Yes. The one who'd caught me and Tala in the photocopying room was The Bitch. It has got to be the worst thing that can happen to a person in the entire space/time continuum. She didn't outright smash my skull to bits because of Tala (higher standings than her-HA!), but after firing me, she "kindly" offered to tell my gentle wife about it, to "share the burden". Please. Just humanely euthanize me now.

After what seems like couple millenniums plus three ice ages later, the room is about half way done and Tala looks exhausted. I am too. I try to stand straight but I think my back has permanently morphed into a hunchback. Note to self: start looking for a job in bell-tolling in a famous cathedral somewhere. I crank my neck up to the other side of the semi clean room and see spider webs with dead insects on the left corner ceiling. Ew.

I hear Tala sigh.

"You know what? I think it's just better to hire someone who's used to such a mess. (gives me a you're-such-a-dirty-slob look) I don't think we'll get it done even if we stay the whole night here. And anyway, you'd better get back home and see how Mariah's holding up."

Like I want to deal with that.

And Tala just gave me another one of he's famous I-pity-you-but-it-is-for-your-own-good-to-take-care-of-it look.

"How do you do that?" I have to know before I die which will be in oh, I don't know, about 10 minutes? Just enough time for me to slowly crawl my way home/demise.

"What."

"Reading my mind. It's freaky. Stop doing that. " I have to find something to stall time!

"Call it a sixth sense. And the fact that you kind of have this thing where you speak your thoughts out loud. "

Oookay. Better watch that.

"Yeah." He says. Damn, I did it again. Not learning from my mistakes always has been my downfall.

"You want a ride home?" He asks.

"And have you killed on my doorstep? I don't think so. Thanks for your concerns but I think Mariah's going to do a little more than invite you for tea and cookies when she sees you."

"Alright… Be careful. I don't know what she's going to do but don't hope for a miracle. I heard what Kingston (Bitch) said to her on the phone… Let's just say she didn't leave anything to the imagination. "

Oh God… I really am going die. If only I did some good during my short life on earth to earn myself a ticket to heaven. Well… actually, living with Mariah without killing her should be enough to earn any man the aforementioned ticket, but it would be nice to have some insurance. I guess I'll finally find out which religion is right after all. Too bad I won't be alive to tell the tale.

Whoa, don't know how he does it (again), but he is now hugging me really tightly, as if I'm getting drafted to Iraq. This is probably worse but… you get the point.

"Just be careful. Don't say anything stupid. " Big assurance there. I know he trusts me now.

"Okay." My voice sounds muffled. So does his but we're really close so it really isn't that hard to understand.

"Call me if you run into some big trouble."

"Okay." Not. He's already done waay too much for lil' ol' me. Did I mention he bought me a piano? For my breakthrough from depression after getting married. Aww, how sweet is that?

After another half an hour of cuddling I finally step outside my ex-job building. Can you believe that it started raining while I was on the see through elevator? You know, one of those cylinder pill-looking elevators that allow you to look outside in a feeble attempt to help the claustrophobics. Well, the moment I got on the Pill, the clouds instantly rushed around the city as if on cue to let me know that it hates me and started pouring buckets of water.

I love soaking up in a hot tub with a cup of nice warm milk and few Lindt dark chocolates, but that and this sort of water is entirely different. I hate water (for obvious reasons─don't get it? One word: Nekojin). The worst possible way to die in my opinion is to drown. Well, it might be an option since I'll probably get kicked out of my home, and while sleeping like some hobo in the subway station, the water will flood by the rate it's raining at the moment causing me to drown if I don't get killed by Mariah first back in the house.

Well, that was a very nice, accurate fortunetelling if I do say so myself. Yet another possible career option if I do (miraculously) survive the night.

Shit, it really is pouring out here. The sound of water hitting the ground is so loud I can hardly here myself think. I can't even see anything… actually, I can see blurred figures running frantically to get out of the rain. I'll be getting in. Great.

Holy mother of cows. The water is much colder than I thought. My jacket is wool thus not water proof; it's soaking in water fast and getting heavier by the second. Damn, I should have taken that car ride! Can't even take a taxi now that I realize I hardly have any money on me and might be needing what little of it I have later in case I do get kicked out (a very likely possibility).

I'm running but obviously can't outrun rain. And I've just made the perfect timing for a stop light who apparently hates me too. It turns red just as I reach the street. Is that its way of flipping me the middle finger? Fuck you too. If I was superstitious, I think this may be a hint that I'm heading into a bad ni-

Motherfu-!!

A gigantic trailer has just rushed past me and totally drenched me in 2-meter high water. Soaking wet from head-to-toe, I see a black cat with yellow eyes across the street, safe under the bricks of the buildings stalking slowly across, sizing me up and… smirking.

Don't know about you, but I think there's enough evidence to conclude that tonight will be an… interesting night.