Title: Four Eyes

Association: Beyblade

Pairing: Boris/Yuriy, Bryan/Tala

Summary: Who would've thought that facing your childish fears could be so rewarding? YuBo.

"Goddammit..."

"Hm?" Yuriy peered at his friend over the edge of his novel, scrutinizing the individual with mild interest. He'd been listening to said friend mutter curses beneath his breath for well over an hour now, and assumed the persistence of such a habit warranted his attention. This, of course, only after having attempted and failed many times at merely ignoring it. "You look like a sour old man all hunched over like that. What's got you so agitated?"

The other male in question, none other than Yuriy's teammate Boris, clasped his hands together and flared his nostrils in frustration. "I can't see the fucking TV, that's what's agitating! I'm maybe—what?—six feet away from it? This is ridiculous…"

Yuriy, disinterested in his book, neatly folded the corner of his current page and set it down on the coffee table, stretching from his cozy position on the couch. A yawn accompanied a couple of cracking sounds that made his companion cringe slightly, but the oblivious captain merely smiled. "Why not go get your eyes checked then? It certainly couldn't hurt."

"Are you fucking nuts?" Boris blurted, throwing his hands into the air from sheer exasperation. "That's no different than asking me if I'd like to volunteer to go to the dentist. And Lord knows that's never gonna happen."

Yuriy scoffed. "Not like that would hurt you either. Then again, they'd probably pull every damn tooth you have. Wouldn't kill you to brush 'em more than once a week, y'know."

"That's total bullshit; I brush at least once a day!"

The redhead deadpanned. "Yeah, that yellow hue really looks believable from here."

Boris, who had been sitting opposite Yuriy on the couch, rose none-too-gracefully from his seat, banging his knee on the coffee table by accident. After another full minute or two of colorful profanity courtesy of the slate-haired falcon, he pinned the wolf down with a hateful glare. "Yeah, fuck you too. Never met a man in my life save you who smokes a pack a day and still wastes time with those stupid strips to make your teeth white."

Boris' glare was met with another. "Yeah, well unfortunately I have an image to keep, and being an 'athlete' with a nicotine habit doesn't exactly look great on camera. But never mind all that; you still need to have your eyes examined. Sitting here bitching about it isn't doing anyone any good."

"I am not going to an eye doctor."

"For your information, moron, they're called optometrists. And yes, you are going to get checked out."

"Says who?" Boris sneered down at the male seated on the couch, his tone laced with an underlying threat. Yuriy shrugged this off with a huff.

"Says me, your captain. You're being voluntold."

"I'm being what?"

"Voluntold. It means someone else is volunteering you to do something. I'll even pay for the office visit myself." Yuriy plucked the remote off the table and muted the television, pulling the falcon from his scapegoat distraction. "I'll go make the call and get you scheduled."

Boris promptly blocked the older male from getting off the couch. "And if I say I won't?"

Yuriy laughed. "Well, we have no use for a 'blind blader' on our team, so as long as you don't mind being replaced in the next World Tournament by K—"

"Fuck that, I'll do it." Boris' eyes churned with deep-seated hatred for his teammate, while Yuriy's glimmered with satisfaction. "You're a bastard."

"I know," the redhead replied, hopping off the couch sideways to get to the phone. "But trust me, you'll be thankful you did this in the long run."

"You…You'll come with me, right?" Boris asked apprehensively, his stoic persona bested by his fear of medical equipment.

"Of course," the wolf murmured mockingly, thumbing through the pages of their phonebook with finesse and ease. "After all, who's gonna hold your hand if I don't?"

Boris fermented at the thought, snatching the phonebook from his companion. "On second thought, I'll go by myself."

"Too late. I've already got the number dialed." The captain was smirking as he held the phone receiver to his ear. "Hello? Oh good, is this Dr. Adaskin's office? Hi, yes, I need to schedule an appointment for a friend of mine. Hm? Oh, of course. His name is Boris Kuznetsov. Age?" Yuriy placed a palm over the receiver. "Borya, how old are you?"

"I'm seventeen, you fuck."

"Ah, that's right." The wolf turned his attention back to the receptionist. "He's seventeen. No, he doesn't wear glasses or contacts, never has. Hm? Oh, how soon? A slot for tomorrow at two?" Yuriy purred, duly noting the frantic look in his companion's eyes. Naturally, he overlooked the mouthed 'no' directed at him. "That sounds wonderful, we'll take it. Yes, we can certainly be fifteen minutes early. Yes, thank you. Take care." The crimson-haired male grinned at his disbelieving friend, the sadistic look in his eye accompanied by a solitary click to end the call. "Well, that's taken care of."

"Now wait just a minute! I've got this thing I'm supposed to do tomorrow and—"

"Come now, you can't bullshit me. You and I both know you're a horrid liar." Yuriy smiled warmly. "Wouldn't it be better to just get this done and out of the way?"

"There's nothing saying I have to do this in the first place!"

Yuriy plopped back down on the couch and retrieved his book, nestling himself back in his previous spot and only content upon rediscovering the warm cushion. "It's really not a big deal, Borya. The most terrifying thing they do is blow a little air in each eye, I swear."

Boris, ever a drama queen if you asked Yuriy, flopped on the couch as well, shifting his teammate and crossing his arms indignantly. "That's the worst fucking part! It's extremely terrifying!"

"Oh, quit being a baby, you'll be fine." The wolf sighed, a slight smirk tearing at the corners of his lips. "You'll be just fine."

The hours at the Blitzkrieg household passed quickly the following morning, leaving a jittery and nightmare-ridden falcon in their wake. As the clock rapidly approached one, Boris—who had thought little of an escape plan until this point—made a miserable attempt to flee the home only to be barricaded by the entirety of his team at the back door. Seeing as his teammate Sergei was built quite like a home himself, there was little chance for success, and resistance was not a viable or particularly safe option. Head hung in defeat, he allowed himself to be led to Yuriy's car by hand, too far buried in his fear and scorn toward the older male to take note of the almost friendly smile gracing his captain's features. As the two closed their doors and fastened their seatbelts, the man behind the wheel made a feeble attempt to soothe his co-captain's nerves.

"Are you ready?" Yuriy asked as he ignited the engine. He took the nonexistent reply as an invitation to continue. "I know you really don't want to do this, but I think it'll do you some good." His eyes met with Boris', glazed with what the steely male could only interpret—foolishly so—as mock concern.

"Don't talk to me," the falcon muttered coldly, turning every bit of his attention none too inconspicuously toward the window.

The captain sighed, watching with slight amusement as his noncompliant counterpart attempted to kill an innocent squirrel passing by with his eyes. "Suit yourself."

The two males rode together in silence, a chill atmosphere permeating the battered vehicle, despite Yuriy having turned the heat on high. He greatly wished that Boris would say something—anything—to make things less tense, but no such courtesy was given until they parked in front of the optometrist's office. Boris' hand froze on the door handle.

"Thanks…" The Blitzkrieg co-captain climbed out of his seat and peered back in at Yuriy. "…for coming with me, I mean."

The words were so inaudible that the redhead was unsure he'd heard them correctly at first. A genuine smile lit up his face; poignant blue eyes went aglow with delight. "You're welcome. Would you like me to wait out here or come in with you?"

Boris snorted. "Well, unless you'd like to freeze your ass off out here for an hour or two, you might as well come in."

Yuriy scoffed and hopped out of the vehicle as well, standing close to the falcon's side as they approached the entrance. He observed his companion's rigid features, such as the sound of his teeth grinding slowly as his nerves peaked. The falcon's brow was moist with sweat, his lips pulled into a taut line to mask his fear, and he was shivering like a maniac. He couldn't help but laugh at the man.

The falcon sneered. "Somethin' funny, captain?" he asked crudely, jamming his hands into his pockets to sheathe his trembling fingers.

"You do realize you'll probably be waiting a while before you're even seen, right? You've got yourself in a nervous tizzy and we haven't even sat down yet." Yuriy opened the heavy glass door and reveled in the warm air rushing over his face as they stepped inside, looking around briefly for the reception desk. He gently nudged Boris in the direction of it. "Now go check in and get the paperwork done so we can flip through magazines and draw inappropriate pictures in them."

Boris smiled nervously. "Yes, sir," he replied, giving his captain a mock salute before taking off to retrieve his paperwork.

Yuriy found two seats next to each other and tossed his jacket in the one beside him, reserving it for his friend. The waiting room was far more crowded than he'd anticipated; there were children running rampant, overbearing mothers gossiping about the news, and even a couple of other males who looked worse for wear than Boris himself. Said individual took a seat beside him, using the older male's coat for warmth. Yuriy raised a curious eyebrow, but opted to keep his thoughts to himself, silently watching over Boris' shoulder as he filled out his forms.

"I didn't know you had good handwriting," Yuriy muttered finally, yawning as the hot air circulating about willed his eyes shut. He subconsciously leaned to his right, resting his head on Boris' shoulder.

"What makes you say that?" Boris mumbled in reply, trying with all his might not to rise out of his seat and scare the shit out of the screaming children running about.

Although he'd be hard-pressed to admit it, the falcon was immensely grateful that Yuriy had agreed to come along. He'd have lost his temper long before now, provided he had even bothered to show up to the appointment. He'd have chickened-out and then he'd have to listen to his roommates pester him until they finally said fuck it and blackmailed him into going. No, it was better to have this done and over with. Not to mention that he'd finally be in good graces with his captain for a change; now that was a first.

"I dunno…I guess looking at you, I figured it'd look barbaric or something…" Yuriy pulled his legs up and crammed them between the armrests of the waiting chair, turning himself into a cocoon as he sapped warmth from Boris.

The slate-haired male smirked but said nothing as he finished his paperwork and set it aside. No sooner than he'd finished, his captain begin to snore softly into his arm.

"I swear to God, Yuriy, you drool on me and you're dead.'

Finding the time more than opportune, Boris tilted his head back and crossed his arms, attempting to make himself comfortable in hopes of obtaining a short nap as well, but to no avail. He had originally hoped that Yuriy would be able to go back into the exam room with him, but seeing the other male now passed out next to him, he knew it was out of the question. Unfortunately, this was going to be one of those experiences he'd have to face on his own. It felt…odd to think of it that way, but he had done nearly everything with Yuriy from the young age of five on. Even in the abbey when Borkov requested to see him alone, the feisty redhead would refuse to allow Boris to go by himself, waiting faithfully outside the door to Borkov's office for his companion to exit.

Companion…no, not companion. He'd been using the word a lot recently, but it wasn't quite right.

Partner seemed a bit more fitting.

And they were surely partners, weren't they? It was safe to admit that they were far closer than mere companions could ever hope to be. They had shared a room together at the abbey and—on occasion— a bed. They had pranked other children in the schoolyard together more times than he could begin to count, as well as the guards. Hell, they had done everything from sharing food and utensils to bartering for various rarities, and even providing support for one another in times of need. No, their "relationship" was far deeper than mere camaraderie could ever hope to describe.

And here they were again; still side-by-side after years of hardship only to discover that, in a rather obscure way, they still needed one another.

Boris looked down at the older male—now quite visibly drooling on his shoulder—and grinned.

'Even for something as simple and dumb as this may seem to you, I appreciate the gesture. Thanks for sticking with me, Yuriy.'

"Mr. Kuznetsov?"

'Damn, that was fast.'

Gently attempting to nudge Yuriy off his shoulder, Boris grabbed his clipboard and stood, only to be held in place by the wrist.

"Where ya goin', Borya?" The wolf's eyes were half-lidded and murky, but went unnoticed when compared to his lilted smile.

"They just called me back, I've gotta go."

"Didja want me to go with ya?" Yuriy attempted to sit up, but was held in place by Boris and quickly covered with his own jacket.

"Nah, go back to sleep," Boris tousled Yuriy's hair in a playful manner and smirked. He looked anxiously toward the technician. "You'd probably just make fun of me anyway."

Yuriy smiled wider. "You're probably right. Well, good luck."

"Thanks." Trembling with anticipation and reluctance, Boris approached the young lady waiting to take him back. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem, sir." The young woman smiled, adjusting a pair of oval-shaped glasses on the bridge of her nose as she took the paperwork from her patient. A slight squint of the falcon's eyes told him her name was Ola. "You know, you're more than welcome to bring him back with you," she gestured sweetly toward the redhead, now stretching from his uncomfortable position in the waiting chair.

Boris politely shook his head, regarding his captain with a mild sense of longing. "No, that's alright."

Ola pursed her lips and smiled, a knowing glint in her soft green eyes. "Suit yourself then. Are you ready?"

The falcon couldn't begin to stifle the nervous laugh that welled at that statement. "About as ready as I'll get, I suppose."

Watching the pair disappear into a hallway with mild interest, Yuriy made to stand from his chair and pulled his coat on, reveling in the dying warmth radiating from it. There was the faintest scent to it—one that he failed to recognize as his own, and he assumed it to be Borya's. Crisp and simple, much like the man himself.

Smiling to no one in particular, the wolf made his way from the waiting area to the far wall where various frames were displayed. Blessed with perfect vision, Yuriy had never endured the process of trying on glasses and began to make a game of it, grabbing only the most hideous pairs. Whilst laughing hysterically at the reflection of himself in a pair of aviators, his focus quickly shifted to finding frames that looked sophisticated, knowing full-well that Borya would be forced to choose a pair upon his return. He laughed at the thought of Boris' terrified expression when the optometrist brought up the option of wearing contacts.

'Well, knowing Borya, he'll probably pick a pair that looks dumb on purpose so he doesn't have to wear them out in public. Maybe if I pick a pair for him, I can save us from spending an extra half–hour in this dreaded place. I don't know how much more shrieking I can take...'

Examining the selection before him, Yuriy quickly snatched up a random set of frames; debating over the width of the lenses, whether he preferred plastic or wire, and everything in between. After a few short moments and little hesitation, he plucked his final selection from the shelf and returned to the waiting area with it, pleased beyond belief.

'He'll look so fucking good in these, he'll be too speechless to argue about wearing them at all.'

As the hour passed slowly on his watch, Yuriy mulled over the possibility of going back to sleep, but found it impossible due to the noise level of the waiting room. The lobby, although a good size, was now overrun with children and the shrieking quickly went from intermittent to constant, the redhead scowling all the while. Internally, he smirked knowing that his partner would be doing the same if he were still in the vicinity.

'Partner? Yeah…I guess that sounds about right to me.'

And so without the peace of mind that normally accompanied a restful nap, Yuriy allowed his thoughts to wander, drifting inexplicably back to Borya despite his best efforts. He'd never dare admit it aloud, but he was almost giddy at the thought of the falcon in a pair of glasses. Not that the younger male needed any accessories to look good or anything; he was fucking gorgeous regardless of what he was wearing.

And even better without anything at all on.

Yuriy's face flushed brightly at the thought. He had developed a rather shameful habit of barging into the bathroom the moment Boris stepped out of the shower, usually with a delicately-fabricated—albeit bullshit—excuse about forgetting something on the sink or needing a towel to clean up a spill. The slate-haired male would always quirk an eyebrow and smirk, and occasionally snort, but never said a word. It made the wolf question whether the falcon had caught onto his motives as of recent. Boris had a fairly consistent practice of shutting the bathroom door when showering…

…Which had very conveniently been thrown to the wayside over the past month or so, much to Yuriy's surprise and delight.

He didn't dare press the issue with Boris, but a little voice had been chiming in his head ever since, and he began to notice other changes in his co-captain's demeanor as well. They had been subtle but steady in nature and increasingly obvious as days went by. Little things such as asking to tag along when he left the apartment for mundane excursions or commenting on his cooking from time-to-time—subtle, but there. That's what really threw Yuriy for a loop.

Fussing at his own childishness and uncertainty internally, the redhead scarcely noticed the change in surroundings until a large pair of calloused hands gripped his shoulders, scaring the living daylights out of him.

"Agh! What the hell?" Spinning around rapidly in the waiting chair, Yuriy found himself hovered over by Boris. The younger male was now laughing uproariously. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know you zone out like no stoner I've ever met. Whatcha got there?" the falcon asked smugly, pointing at the frames that Yuriy had nearly just crushed in his hand.

"Um, well…" Yuriy paused, meeting Boris' smirk with mild anxiety. "I thought I'd save us some time by grabbing a pair of frames for you."

"Oh, did you now?" Boris' condescending gaze intensified, eyelids narrowing to roguish slits. "And what makes you think those are the ones I want?" he purred, fingertips tightening on Yuriy's shoulders, kneading thoroughly into tense muscle.

"B-because," The wolf fought for words, not liking the hot tingle that shot up his back at the falcon's touch. "Because you have no sense of taste and I'll not allow you to parade around like a fool in whatever pair you would choose."

At this, Boris released his captain's shoulders and reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out an identical pair of frames. "Really now? Tell me then, captain, why is it that you and I chose the same pair?"

Staring in disbelief at the frames dangling before him, Yuriy looked up slowly only to find his lips crushed against an adjacent pair. The kiss was chaste yet firm, and just long enough to catch him entirely off-guard. Boris quickly snatched up both sets of frames to take to the receptionist whilst doing this, winking at his blushing cohort as he headed toward the front desk. "Thanks for the concern, Yuriy."

That bastard…

Burning in ways he never fathomed, the ruffled captain quickly attempted to gain his composure and stood, the flush in his cheeks all but forgotten as the falcon whispered something to the receptionist and returned to retrieve him.

"Well, the lenses should be ready in a week or so. You ready to go?" Boris questioned, analyzing the flabbergasted stare of his partner. "Yuriy?"

"Uh…Yeah."

"Good, because I'm fucking starving!" Ignoring the wandering eyes that pinpointed on the two of them, Boris snatched Yuriy by the hand to lead him out. From the reception desk, the same technician who checked Boris in waved in his direction, a coy smile and vibrant gaze bringing life to her jaded expression.

Yuriy could've sworn he saw her mouth the words "You're welcome".

FIN