Warning: TyKa goodness. ((winks)) Maybe. Or maybe not. –What? Don't look at me like that! The whole PLOT revolves around its possibility!
Additional warning: First BB fic. Characters will probably not be entirely IN character, which I think is sucky but cannot actually find the necessary brain power to correct said error.

A/N: Would you believe I wrote this on a relatively mild day in winter? Ah, well. I got the inspiration, actually, when I was trying to read my very boring book on the incredibly cool subject of Hinduism. ((blinks)) I don't know, either.

Necessary Disclaimer: Beyblade (in any part of its seasons) does not belong to me. Though I think it should. Because then Kai would look as gorgeous as he did in the last episode of BB:G-Rev ALL THE TIME. (And yes. That was the first eppie I watched. And you wonder why I think the TyKa is manifest?)

Dedication: Dedicated to The Lady Winged Knight! ((mock glare)) Not only did you get me hooked into Beyblade of all things but then you got me hooked onto pairings in Beyblade, and wouldn't stop deluging me with their wonderfulness until I succumbed. Not that I actually minded.
... I guess we're even for me hooking you onto the NaruSasu, huh? ((grins))
But seriously: This was written entirely in thanks for proofing my Blake essay – at 11 at night when both of us should REALLY be getting the sleep we need (and deserve, darnit!). Yes. You're wonderful. Thank you.

Heat

Tyson thought Kai was hot. As in, really, really hot.

Tyson stared some more. Everything about Kai screamed hotness. From the way he moved, to the way he looked at the moment...

Kai's biceps clenched slightly as they moved to pick something up off the couch. Tyson blinked, watching the muscles move smoothly in seeming slow motion. Even Kai's breathing was something to be remarked upon. Hotness central, that was sure.

So Kai was hot, there was no doubt about it. And it was just the two of them in the room now. The other members had finally left, all promising sleep in order to be prepared for this upcoming tournament. Tyson licked his lips, feeling rather on the warm side himself.

"Hey, Kai!"

A grunt in response as Kai turned the other way to look out the window. Unwittingly, Tyson's eyes drifted downwards, where Kai's legs were covered with those long, forever-in-style cargoes.

"I was thinking..."

"What, you?"

A snort of amusement and Kai gave him his full attention. Those burning, scorching crimson eyes landed on him and Tyson smiled, brushing past the insult. He was too content with the situation. He had Kai right where he wanted him now.

"Yeah, I can think occasionally. And I was thinkin' that you looked pretty hot." He smiled, stretched, and waited for Kai's reaction.

Kai, unpredictably, turned a shade pink. "What?"

"I said," Tyson raised his voice slightly, letting Kai's odd slip go unnoticed - for now. "I said that you were looking pretty hot." He lifted an eyebrow suggestively. "Maybe you should take that scarf off."

Kai frowned before turning away. "I'm fine, Tyson."

Tyson's eyes widened in honest dismay. "But Kai, you ARE hot! Look at you! I mean, teasing aside here, you're sweating all over the place! Would it hurt to take off a couple of things? It's roasting in here, and besides, look at me! I've got these little shorts on!"

Kai muttered something under his breath, moving over to the fridge. Tyson strained to catch it.

"What do you mean, 'I noticed'?"

Kai sighed, reduced to wordless expressions to convey his disgruntled emotions. He opened the fridge and looked scathingly inwards. Because, as we all know, the nearly empty fridge was the source of all evil.

Groaning slightly at having to leave his comfortable position, Tyson slowly got up and walked the small distance of the hotel room. "Kai. Even if you're not warm, you're making ME all sweaty with the number of layers you've got on. At least take the scarf off."

Kai turned to face him, once more settling that fiery hot glare on him. "No."

"Oh, okay." Tyson shrugged in seeming acceptance and backed up a step or two. "Can you get me a drink then? Please?"

"What did you want?" Kai's shoulders relaxed minutely at the avoidance of a confrontation, and he turned to face the opened fridge door. "There's almost nothing in here. You really should have gotten something before we arrived."

"That's okay." Tyson shrugged again. "All I really want anyway is... YOUR SCARF!" Screeching that last bit, Tyson suddenly jumped onto Kai's back, making a desperate grab for that ridiculously long scarf.

"TYSON! Get off me! Now!"

"Only when you surrender the scarf!"

What followed was a scuffle of epic magnitude. It was indescribably violent. Furniture was overturned, walls were crashed into - even the bed headboard was broken when the chair had been thrown. Clothes were ripped, shrieks were yelled, and residents four blocks away had repeatedly considered calling the police to report a horrible mauling.

15 minutes later

Tyson panted, staring across the meagre distance at his opponent. This strategy... wasn't going so well.

Less than a foot away, red eyes analyzing his opponent's next move, Kai crouched, also panting. To Tyson's immense dissatisfaction, that blasted scarf was still fluttering dramatically around Kai's form.

Tyson growled. Kai saw this, smirked, and airily tossed his scarf over his shoulder. "Ha."

In response, Tyson bunched his shoulders and got a better footing. He may have lost a few battles in his time, but this was not going to be one of them. Kai was going to take his scarf off. Tyson conveniently ignored the fact that the fight was making him more heated than he'd ever been today.

He grinned. Time for Round Two.

45 minutes later

Weak and on the floor near an equally exhausted Kai, Tyson shifted his right arm away from the slowly advancing fist. The soothing, cool surface of the tiled floor had vanished when they'd fallen to the floor a good fifteen minutes ago and had turned nearly as scorching as the air outside. Tyson's hat was dangling precariously on the wall's sole decorative painting and his hair was a mess. His long-sleeved overshirt was destroyed and his t-shirt had been practically ripped off. His knees were bruised, his arms were battered, and it was a medical miracle that he hadn't broken his ankle earlier. Stupid slippery floor rug.

Kai, at least, was equally dishevelled. His leather coat was hanging from the A/C vent, his tank top wasn't even there anymore, his cargo pants were torn at the legs, and strands of his hair had escaped their strictly gelled position and hung inelegantly about his face. On top of that, those infamous blue stripes of his had smeared – half on the floor and half on various parts of Tyson's skin. Faint, developing bruises were starting to appear on various limbs of his, as well.

But that scarf was still there. Knotted, slightly mangled, and much dirtier than before (Tyson was going to have a serious word with hotel management after this. Floors were supposed to be CLEAN, weren't they?), but still dangling precariously on Kai's shoulder.

Tyson glared upwards, panting heavily. Stupid Kai. Stupid scarf. Now, thanks to this extended fight they'd had, not to mention the busted A/C (which was a total accident and NOT Tyson's fault, no matter what Kai said) AND this stupid heat wave, Tyson was even hotter than before. He was seriously reconsidering if this was even worth it.

Above him, equally flushed, sweaty, and out of breath, Kai smirked weakly before slowly hoisting himself upwards on shaky arms.

"The scarf stays. Do you get it yet, Tyson?" Kai's voice almost trembled – not that Tyson could blame him. After an hour of intense battle, he was equally wiped out.

He offered a weak smile upwards before letting out a hoarse, vaguely sinister chuckle. "What do you think?"

Kai closed his eyes, briefly gathering his strength again before trying to stand up for Round Three. His expression was one of determination, the kind that reminded Tyson of Kai during beybattles... Kai during hard trials... Kai during that last tournament that had Tyson half convinced that Kai would die before he'd give up. Tyson had been incredibly worried about that – to the point where he'd had nightmares about that for weeks afterwards.

Tyson blinked, ignoring the sweat dripping down his face. Things which had been blurry suddenly swam into focus - giving Tyson a much better view than he could remember having before. Reality was bashing him over the head with a notion (and the more important conclusion) that he'd only half-heartedly entertained before, never seriously considering it:

Kai looked hot. As in, really, really hot.

And Tyson, suddenly, grinned.

Then, using the last ounce of energy his body had been screaming at him to save for his beating heart, he reached upwards and made a miraculously successful grab for the scarf. From there, he let gravity take over, letting it pull Kai's half-start up back down to the ground. Kai landed heavily on Tyson, only to stare in weary determination.

"Let go, Tyson," Kai growled, still trying to catch his breath. "I mean it."

Making no other movements – not that he could, really, other than also gasp for air – Tyson slowly twined his fingers in more tightly around the silky threads. "Actually," he murmured huskily, "I changed my mind. The scarf can stay after all."

Kai spared enough energy to roll his eyes. "Lucky me."

Tyson gave one last grin before using the scarf to tug his leader even closer. "Actually, I was thinking 'lucky me.' Get it?"

And then, closing his eyes to Kai's shocked expression and missing the hidden look of hope in his eyes, Tyson breached the last few inches between them for their first kiss.

And it was hot.

FIN

A/N: Proof that Tyson and Kai are NOT girly boys. Not to mention that, as guys, they can have horribly gorgeous fight scenes (which can then be followed by incredibly gorgeous make-out scenes, of course. I figure that kinda stuff gets censored off the N.A. shows, though. ((pouts)) Stupid censors take out all the good stuff.)
Hope you enjoyed! (Feel free to, you know, review. Feed the author!)