Title: A Scotsman's Kiss
Summary: Enrique's straight, isn't he? So why, after witnessing an intimate kiss between two male bladers does he have the sudden urge to kiss his bad tempered teammate, Johnny?
Pairings: Johnny/Enrique, Miguel/Kai (Duh! X3)
Warnings: Fluff. Request fic. First attempt at pairing.
Disclaimer: Don't own Beyblade.
Hi there! This is for glitteredvixen06 who requested a Johnny/Enrique pairing from me. My first attempt at an Enrique pairing that doesn't involve me torturing him in some way X3 I hope you enjoy!
"Good morning, ladies. My, you're all looking beautiful this morning."
Johnny's eyebrow gives a sudden twitch when a chorus of annoying girlish giggles reaches his ears. Momentarily glancing down at his watch, Johnny's eyebrow gives another twitch of annoyance. It's only 10am and he's already flirting with the ladies.
Sighing, Johnny leans back in his seat, a steaming hot coffee sitting idle on the table in front of him. He glances over to his blonde hair teammate again, who has his arms around two of the three girls' shoulders, no doubt leading them away to either have lunch or go shopping for clothes.
Most likely clothes. It's the perfect excuse for the playboy to see the girls in most revealing and sexy outfits without being called a pervert.
However, rich heartthrobs like him can't be called perverts. No, they're called playboys. Egocentric driven men who have more notches in their bedposts for their sexual achievements then a criminal in jail counting down the days left until their release from their 30 years in prison.
Italian playboys, or rakes - aka, immoral pleasure seeker: somebody who indulges without restraint in physical pleasures - in some parts of Europe. With their sexy Italian accent, their lazy, but calculating eyes, their suave smiles.
And Enrique is probably the definition of being rakish. Dashing. Casual. Confident. Stylish. An air of debonair.
He really, really gets up Johnny's well angled and defined nose.
They couldn't be any more different, and yet are on the same team. Enrique is worldly known for his playboy ways and can just about get away with anything with a smile timed at exactly the right time. He's more known for his playboy ways then he is with his blading skills. Even hearing their team name, the Majestics conjures up images of Enrique acting suave.
"The Majestics? Oh, the team with the blonde hair playboy in it?"
They say it like he's the only one on the team! It grates on Johnny's nerves every time someone even mentions Enrique's name in the same sentence with anything other than Beyblade.
It's always; Enrique is so smooth. Enrique is so sexy. Enrique this and Enrique that. No one has every said; Enrique is actually a good blader.
Of course, Johnny would rather rip out his tongue with a pair of rusty pliers than actually voice those words. The truth of the matter is; Enrique is actually a talented blader. So why the hell is he ruining his reputation by hanging out with these social tarts who only want one - sometimes, two - things from him?
Does he even know their names, by the way? Johnny could care less, but he swears they're made up. He, unfortunately, met some of the tarts, er, ladies of social background. The ones he's encountered are pretty abnormal, but not in a particularly good way…
Airogail (Not Abigail. That's far too dull). Ayelet (Is that Egyptian?). Belladonna (But you can call her Bell. Everyone does, apparently). Celestial (That raises a few eyebrows). Courtni (Spelt differently because she wants to be cool and rebel against the more plain spelling of 'ney').
Of course, there's also the usually. Every second girl he's stumbled across is either called; Sakura, Serenity, Tenshi, Kia or Mia.
And then there are some names that there is no way on God's green earth would parents ever give their child unless they want them to be mentally scarred for the rest of their lives. Or become stripers. Faeyle, Foxy, Minx, Angel, Storm, Gaia and Goth, surprisingly.
What's wrong with traditional names like Hannah, Ruth or heaven forbid, Kate?
He's sure there's a lot more 'normal' and 'nice' girls out there. Hell, there has to be. But it seems that he only meets the weird ones which sometimes makes him contemplate becoming a Buddhist Monk and hiding in the mountains somewhere.
Johnny snorts loudly to himself as he grabs his coffee and takes a sip, scowling when he realizes that it's gone cold. "Stupid Enrique," he mutters as he puts the cup down and pushes it away in disgust. "Distracting my thoughts like that."
It seems to be happening a lot lately. It's like everything the blonde Italian does annoys him, no matter what. He loses his patience quite quickly and is often snapping at him. Some days the blonde with cower from him, making him feel a sense of unwanted guilt.
He feels rather conflicted with Enrique sometimes. He annoys him, but he hates telling him off. Hates seeing the way Enrique would cringe and then scurry away. Sometimes he would even go out of his way to avoid him, which seems to only annoy Johnny more.
It's really annoying. He likes being near the blonde, but then he hates being near him. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
He places his hands on the table and heaves himself up, a deep scowl still marring his features. He plunges his hand into his pocket and throws some money onto the table before meandering off into the crowded streets.
He wonders if Robert is at his hotel room, or is out and about running errands for work. A real workaholic that one. There's rumors though, that a few other Beyblade teams are in the country as well. In the city, perhaps. Of course, those are only rumors.
With a sigh, Johnny rams his hands into his pocket and decides to waste some time just wandering all over the city, scowling at anyone who looks at him the wrong way and fighting anyone who gets in his way. The usual stuff.
Taking a moment to pause in his steps, Johnny turns around to gaze in the direction Enrique disappeared in. He only wishes that the blonde playboy would at least put this much effort in teamwork and his blading skills.
And not to annoy him so much.
That's all…
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Flashing his usual, fool-proof sexy smile at the ladies around him, Enrique casually slinks his arms around their shoulders and begins leading them away, towards the high end fashion district in Venice. The weather is getting warmer, maybe he can talk the girls into trying on bikinis…
Taking a moment to glance over his shoulder, Enrique's gaze immediately lands on his bad tempered red-haired teammate, Johnny McGregor. And he physically winces.
Johnny appears to be angry about something. Which, as of late, isn't anything unusual. He seems more impatient then ever lately, especially towards him. He's always snarling and hissing at him.
And the reasons why? He doesn't know. But he must have done something to annoy him. If only he knew what he had done, then maybe he can try to apologize to the Scotsman and set things right again.
He doesn't like it when Johnny is angry at him. He likes to be on friendly terms with everyone if possible. He's a good natured and friendly guy, which is why the girls love him.
Ok, the fact that he's ungodly rich also helps, but let's not get technical.
Johnny seriously needs to lighten up, though. He's always scowling with his arms folded tightly over his chest, his eyebrow above his right eye forever twitching. It's always his right eyebrow that twitches, Enrique has come to notice. He knows this because it always seems to be his fault that it's twitching. He's wound up so tightly that he must iron his underwear at night before going to bed.
Shaking his head, Enrique decides to focus on the task at hand. But then his lazy gaze falls upon two very familiar bladers sitting at a street side café, talking casually to each other. One blonde the other two tone blue.
Enrique raises an eyebrow. Why on earth are Kai and Miguel in Italy? And why are they sharing an intimate coffee together, acting like good friends?
Suddenly Miguel looks up and notices Enrique. He says something to Kai, who in turn also glances in his direction. They share a few words before Miguel waves him over.
Enrique hesitates for a moment, before bidding a quick goodbye to the girls and walks over to them. "Miguel. Kai," he greets as he approaches.
"Enrique," Miguel smiles warmly in return while Kai simply nods elegantly in his direction.
"So what brings the two of you here?" Enrique asks, standing tall with his hands on his hips, his expression casual and cool.
"Just taking some time off," Miguel replies. "Kai's teammates have been a real pain in the ass, lately."
Ok, well that answers why Kai is here. But why is Miguel. Enrique opens his mouth to question the blonde when he notices that Kai is staring at him with a sly, knowing gaze. It's like he knows something about himself that he doesn't.
It's unnerving when he does that.
"Is there something wrong, Kai?" he asks, turning his half lidded eyes in the enigma's direction.
"You have quite a female following, don't you?" Kai asks, arching an eyebrow in the group of girls on the other side of the street. "Tell me, how many have you, what do they say, conquered?"
Before he can stop himself, Enrique blushes at the insinuation and coughs slightly. He is actually quite taken aback by the boldness in Kai's question. He never imagined the aloof enigma asking such a question.
It sounds like something either Tala or Ray would ask. Kai must be hanging around the two a little too much.
"I haven't, er, conquered any of them."
"Really?" Miguel asks, a sly smirk appearing on his lips.
"Could it be that the blonde hair playboy isn't interested in female company, but is afraid that if he doesn't indulge with the ladies, his sexuality will come into question?" Kai states more so than asks, his elbows leaning on the table and his hands folded neatly under his chin. A sly look shimmering in his eyes as a small and knowing smile graces his lips.
Enrique's form stiffens as reflex and a look of confusion spreads across his face. He manages to compose himself a moment later and looks at the two in amusement. "What are you talking about?" he asks, trying to sound light and casual, but it seems that unconsciously, Kai's words struck a nerve.
Miguel manages to catch the undertone and smiles as he leans back in his chair, looking far too casual than Enrique would like. "He appears to still be in the denial state, Kai."
"It appears so," Kai replies.
A dark blush burns on Enrique's face. He isn't sure if it's due to anger and humiliation that they are inferring something that's completely wrong, or something else…something he can't quite put his finger on.
"Are you two inferring that I am somehow gay?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest in an irate manner.
Kai and Miguel share a sly, knowing look before turning their attention back to the Italian playboy. "Yes," Kai replies bluntly.
Enrique physically reels back in shock at the tactless reply. A part of him wants to laugh hysterically at the notion, but a small voice in his head is whispering; what if they're right?
"But…" Enrique stutters for a moment. "I can't be…"
Miguel tilts his head to the side in question. "Why not?"
"It's…it's just…"
"Wrong?" Miguel finishes for the bumbling teen.
Ok, this is definitely going to be a two shot.
Please review.