Author's Note: I think it is safe to say that I've gotten inspiration for this story back, and I really hope to keep up this pattern with updates. Honestly, the last two chapters were written in full in mere days – something I haven't experienced in years. I should also say, by the end of this chapter, I think a lot of you will know what the next chapter will be called. Even if you think you don't, you probably do. Trust me.

I would like to thank the following people for taking the time to review: Sony89, darkmist11, ToraHimeSama, Kamakaze Kheri, ayushi, DayDreaming0f y0u, Kariya-Yoshida, Kenrai, sanaa, xjoinxthexclubx, darkheart1992, and TeenageDream92. Seriously, it means a lot that people have continued with this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade.

Chapter Ten: Toilet Humour

Hilary had her arms crossed as she leaned against the bathroom counter, she felt like a regular Kai. She would've told the joke to Tyson, but he seemed to be growing more and more irritable by the second. So instead she smiled to herself, waiting patiently for the party to move pass the toasts and allow people to use the washroom.

It was in her experience that once people on her Father's side of the family started talking it lasted a while. But Hilary didn't worry too much about that, people naturally had to go to the washroom and she figured, sooner or later, someone would open the door.

Tyson made a growling noise, annoyed with their current situation; he stood freely from the wall he had been slumped against. "Do you think you could go over there for a minute?" he jerked his thumb toward the corner of the room.

This being the first thing Tyson had said in a few minutes, Hilary stared at him quizzically. "Why?" she didn't make a move, instead opting to tilt her head in wonderment.

Tyson let out another low growl, walking toward the girl. "Because I have to go to the washroom," he said in disbelief, "And I think we would both feel better if you were standing in the corner."

"Oh no," Hilary jumped in front of him, blocking the toilet with her arms out at her sides. "You are, under no condition, going to the washroom while I'm still in the room."

"What? I have to go, Hilary," Tyson scowled, trying to get around the girl. "I don't have any other options."

"Hold it!" she told him. She slammed the seat down on the toilet before sitting; then she proceeded to cross both her legs and arms as a sign of protest. "You're not five."

A strangled sound came from Tyson's throat in frustration as he threw his arms up in the air. "I should just go in your shower," he stated, watching Hilary's face contort in further disgust. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub facing the brunette, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. "You better hope someone comes here soon."

Hilary rolled her eyes, "Or what?"

"Or you'll be buying me this tux, if you catch my drift," Tyson countered.

"It's hard to say," Hilary changed the subject, hoping it would aid Tyson in keeping his mind off his current problem. "They're going to be talking about how they met and how they wish them the best in the future. Those sort of things."

"So what are the toasts like at the imaginary wedding you have for us?"

Hilary blushed, "I told you, I don't think about getting married to every guy I meet!"

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off cheekily, enjoying her face turning redder in anger. "Let's see... Tyson and Hilary met in eighth grade; it was love at first sight. She was a huge fan of his and had watched all his matches on TV, thinking he was the hottest thing on the planet."

"Right, that's how things went," Hilary snorted.

"Hey, I'm not finished," Tyson laughed, humming in thought before continuing. "And when he met her, he couldn't help but think – wow, that girl has a way with constructive criticism and speaking her mind. What kind of guy wouldn't want that in a girl?"

"Are you finished?"

"In case you didn't know, I was calling you bossy and I'm not finished. What about you and Kai's wedding?" he snapped his fingers at the idea. "Since this is imaginary land, you can get married to as many guys as you want."

"Oh great," Hilary sighed, "Why do I think this is going to be a long wait?"

Tyson ignored her, now too absorbed in his new game. "The first time Hilary saw Kai was in a picture. Oh, and I'm saying this like I'm giving the toast," Tyson explained before clearing his throat. "I remember her words so clearly, finding them touching. She wanted to know who the... bodacious bombshell was..."

"I said he was cute!" Hilary interjected.

"Hey, I'm telling the story here. I wish I could write this stuff down," Tyson grinned, "We explained, me and Kenny, that this bodacious bombshell was our very... uh, shy friend Kai. She then admitted he wasn't as attractive as me, but felt she would fall for the very social and upbeat person he was deep, deep, deep inside."

Hilary sighed again, knowing she wasn't being heard at all. She uncrossed her arms, choosing instead to prop one on top of the counter and lean her cheek into the palm.

"When Kai met Hilary... well, I guess he saw something because they're getting married today."

"That's it?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"Well... Kai doesn't talk much," Tyson shrugged, "It's not like he nudged me and said something. I don't have much to work with."

"Because everything else you said was so accurate."

"I thought so," he agreed with a nod, smirking at her sceptical expression. "I can't really say much about the other guys either... Well, maybe Max. I think I'd have something embarrassing to say no matter who he married."

"I guess... he does tend to flirt a lot when he gets talking to girls," Hilary stated, finding that she did see some truth in Tyson's statement. "Not so much lately... maybe he's found someone?"

The boy watched Hilary blankly as she seemed to look upward dreamily. "I don't think so," he shook his head, "We have an unspoken code, we'd definitely tell each other if we were dating someone."

The brunette returned his gaze. "An unspoken code where you discuss your love lives?"

"Just because the code is unspoken doesn't mean we can't talk," Tyson explained, rolling his eyes. "Guys tell each other these things, that way we won't be butting heads with each other."

"I don't think you're much competition," Hilary laughed, causing Tyson's expression to crumble in annoyance. "And I've seen enough TV dramas to know that doesn't work."

"We're not on TV, Hil."

"Not denying the competition part, I see," the girl continued to tease lightly. "How many times have you actually sat down with the rest of the team and talked about girls?"

Tyson coughed, "We don't sit down and talk... it's not like that."

Hilary gave him a peculiar look. "Uh... okay. So how do you talk then, by standing? Through letters? Carrier pigeons?"

"Ha ha," Tyson mocked, "The topic hasn't really come up yet. That's why Max can't be seeing anyone, it's impossible. Why wouldn't he tell us?"

"I don't even know if there is someone, I was just saying he wasn't being as flirty as usual."

"I bet you talk to the girls about guys just the same," Tyson commented, "So you don't end up scratching each other's eyes out or pulling hair."

"What girls? I spend most of my time drowning in testosterone hanging around you guys," Hilary scoffed, "And, again, I've seen enough TV dramas to know that isn't true."

"Oh, yeah right. You probably call up Mariah or Emily on the weekends to dish about us guys," Tyson smirked, once again finding pleasure in Hilary's annoyance. He held up his hand to his ear as if he was using a telephone. "Hey girlfriend! You should've seen Tyson during training this week," he mocked, lifting his voice up a few octaves, "What a major babe! You should see his muscles; I bet one day, he could lift cars."

"I never realized you were so attached to your feminine side, Tyson," Hilary retorted, she was somewhat awestruck by his impression and how high his voice could go. "Unfortunately, that's not what I do on the weekends."

Tyson reasoned, "So that's what you write in your diary?"

"Of course," Hilary said sarcastically, "I even announce what I'm writing in that same shrill voice."

"You think very highly of me then," Tyson laughed, flexing his arms as a joke. "Today weights, tomorrow cars."

The brunette leaned further into her hand, smiling at how bizarre this conversation was. "Whatever you say, girlfriend."

Tyson returned her smile gratefully. "You know, if I had to be stuck in a washroom with anyone, I'm glad it was you."

"Really?" Hilary asked, hearing the hint of sincerity.

"Of course," he nodded, "I think when your bladder is about to explode, you should be with someone you really care about."

"You're not going to the washroom with me still in the room!" Hilary groaned, making sure she still had control of the situation. She planted her feet firmly on the floor, hands at her sides in case she needed them. "Is that why you've been sweet talking me this whole time?"

"Sweet talking?" Tyson repeated incredulously, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I'm pretty sure I've been making fun of you this whole time."

"No, really?" Hilary frowned, "I'm not stupid. We were teasing each other; I just thought it was all in good fun, not in manipulation."

"Manipulation?" the boy questioned, he straightened his back while still sitting. Tyson could hear the sound of laughter from outside whenever the buzz of the microphone died briefly. "See, even they're laughing at you. It's like we're on a sitcom."

Hilary turned her head away from him, expressing she wasn't impressed with his attitude. "Jerk."

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but my bladder is about to burst," Tyson growled, the sound escaping from his throat through clenched teeth. He jumped to his feet, making the decision to pace the length of the room to get his mind off things. "This could be considered torture..."

"Let's talk about something else," the brunette suggested. She put a single finger to her chin and began to tap it. "We can talk about rivers and waterfalls or that single drip of water that just keeps coming out of the tap..."

"Shut-up," Tyson snapped.

"I was just kidding. What do you want to talk about?"

"How about possible escape routes?" Tyson answered, throwing his arms up for emphasis. "There's got to be a way out of here."

"There is," Hilary told him with a roll of her eyes, "It's called someone using the doorknob from the other side; we established this."

"Well, there's got to be a way in here too!" the navy haired boy decided, pumping his fist. Hilary continued to stare at him unimpressed. "We could bust down the door? I'm sure that would be easy, just take a good charge at it."

Hilary had to wonder what went through Tyson's head from day to day for him to think that was a good idea. "Oh, that would just be fantastic. I'm sure my parents won't mind at all that you destroyed a part of our home."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Waiting."

"I meant good suggestions, ones where we take action. What if no one ever comes up here?" Tyson inquired with a shrug of his shoulders. "What if everyone has already forgotten about us?"

"Yes, what are the odds my parents will not only forget the existence of their only child, but also fail to use the washroom ever again?" Hilary hummed in thought, "I'm going to have to guess that's not going to happen."

"You have to look at the worst case scenario," Tyson pointed out, turning on his feet to make another round in the small room. "Just because you refuse to pay attention to it, doesn't mean it's not going to happen."

"Know what else isn't going to happen?" Hilary said, giving him a pointed look, "You busting down our washroom door."

"I get it, no busting down doors," Tyson looked upward as he continued to walk back and forth across the room. "No vents to crawl through either. Probably no secret passage ways... your Dad would somehow install that backwards."

The brunette made a face. "Secret passage ways are usually accessible from both sides. Not that we have one..."

"Doors are usually accessible from both sides too, isn't that funny?" Tyson stopped to play with the doorknob. "And yet, it doesn't do anything at all."

"Technically it's locked, so it is doing something."

Tyson let out a huff of air from his nose in aggravation. "Whatever," he let go of the door, returning to his strive. "Think you could help come up with an idea? It is your house."

Hilary shrugged, remaining seated. "You could always walk back and forth so much that you eventually break through the floor, freeing us."

"I thought breaking things was out of the question?" the navy haired boy smirked, "I'm pretty tempted to break something at this point."

The brunette ignored his remark. "I don't know. Do you have a cell phone on you?"

"You freaked out on me for wearing a hat, do you think I would've brought a cell phone to a wedding service?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Well, you did bring your hat," Hilary reasoned, growing more and more frustrated with the boy.

"Hats don't ring and interrupt services," Tyson retorted, pointing to his friend with conviction. "I could just picture you strangling me after the wedding, so I left my cell phone at home. Didn't think it would be appropriate."

"Not that I don't agree with you," Hilary said honestly, finding that Tyson had made somewhat of a good choice in the last twenty-four hours, "But we ended up interrupting the whole thing anyway."

"Still more classier than a cell phone ringing," Tyson decided, "I think even your family would agree with that."

"Maybe."

"Do you have a cell phone on you?"

Hilary shook her head, holding out her empty hands as proof. "No pockets or purse on me, sorry."

"That's alright," Tyson rubbed his chin in thought, "I still think there's got to be a way out of here."

"We could always listen?" Hilary suggested.

"Are you saying I talk too much?" Tyson shot back as a reflex.

"Well you do, but maybe someone's in the house. Downstairs or something."

Tyson nodded in agreement to the idea. He silently walked toward the washroom door, putting his ear against it. Hilary re-crossed her legs as she too listened for any noise in the house, willing to welcome it to escape her current confines. Both of them stayed silent for the next couple of minutes, but to no avail. The house remained as quiet as they did.

Removing himself from the door, Tyson ran a hand through his hair. "I don't suppose your Dad kept any tools in here? Screwdrivers or anything so I can get the hinges off."

"I doubt it. My Dad's not a handyman, like I said, so he doesn't even own his own tools," Hilary went back to propping herself up against the counter, having grown tired of the whole situation. "I think he borrowed them from one of my Uncles or the neighbours; either way, it's not going to be much help."

Smacking the wall again with his fist, Tyson bit his lip. "This is getting ridiculous. Are they still toasting each other outside?"

Hilary paused to listen for noise outside. It didn't take long to pick up the constant buzzing of the microphone again while it was in use. She nodded, "Sounds like it."

"Oh man, doesn't anyone in your family know how to shut-up?" Tyson's shoulders sunk in disappointment as he bowed his head. Hearing Hilary scoff, he smiled sheepishly. "Uh... that was my bladder speaking."

"I don't really know what else to say," Hilary said, choosing to ignore him once again. It was better than getting in a fight in such close quarters. "I guess we don't have any other choice but to wait."

Tyson sighed, returning to his seat on the rim of the bathtub across from Hilary. "That depends. How are your sewers? Maybe if we flush your toilet enough your yard will flood."

"Can you please stop coming up with ways to destroy my home?" Hilary frowned.

"I guess," he moaned, staring at the tiled floor in sadness. "It's just, I can't think of anything else and we've been stuck in here for a while."

She nodded in understanding. "Are you getting claustrophobic?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Tyson met her gaze briefly, his eyes holding a great amount of disbelief. "I have to go to the washroom! I figured you would know and all seeing as how you're dead set against me going." With a scowl, his gaze fell back to the tiles.

"I don't care if you go, just not when I'm here," Hilary reminded, "Because that's still disgusting. I think you can wait until someone comes up here."

"Well I'm glad you think so, that's a relief," Tyson said sarcastically. "We're back to the main problem, everyone is out there."

He extended his arm boldly, his finger pointing toward the small window in the room. Hilary could see by his expression that the wheels in Tyson's brain had started to turn. He quickly looked up to the window as he jumped to his feet, a smile gracing his mouth.

"What?" Hilary asked curiously.

"I'm an idiot! There's been a way to escape this whole time," the navy haired boy cheered, jabbing his finger for emphasis toward the window repeatedly. "The window, it's big enough for us to go through and it leads out onto your first floor's roof, right?"

"Yeah...," Hilary admitted slowly, "But..."

"Don't tell me your Dad installed that too," Tyson deflated again, his shoulders slumping at the thought. "Let me guess... you have to be outside to open it?"

"No," she shook her head thoughtfully, "My Dad didn't install the windows. We paid a company to do that for us."

"So what's the problem?"

"It's broken. The window cracked shortly after it was put in," Hilary explained, looking up to the window. "So I don't know if it opens. Nobody's touched it in case it would crack more."

Tyson stared at the window in determination. "Well, let's get cracking."

"Here we go again with the destroying of my home," the brunette sighed, watching as Tyson evaluated the situation. "Can you even reach it?"

"I don't know," he revealed. He stepped onto the rim of the bathtub, balancing himself as he twisted in the direction of the window. Reaching for the window, he was unable to get a good enough grip to handle the frame because of his angle. "So close..."

Tyson jumped down from the bathtub, his eyes still rested intensely on their sole means of escape. "Now what?"

He smiled, turning his attention back to Hilary. "I got it," he snapped his fingers, "Stand up."

"Why...?" Hilary asked cautiously. She stood up slowly, continuing to block the toilet in case he had a devious trick planned.

"You're going to help me," Tyson decided, "Here's the plan. I'm going to pick you up and you're going to open the window. If we can't climb out, you can at least call for help."

She stared at him with uncertainty, not very fond of Tyson lifting her into the air; especially in a place with so many things she could potentially hit her head on. But from the hopeful expression on his face, Hilary figured she had no other choice.

"How about it?" Tyson asked, worried after getting no response.

With a sigh, the girl shrugged. "Fine."

"Awesome," he grinned, making her roll her eyes. "I guess you should maybe stand on the toilet... that would probably be the easiest way."

"For you, I assume," Hilary retorted, taking Tyson's hand as he helped her stand on the questionable surface. "I'm the one in heels after all. This could go wrong."

"I'm not going to let you fall," Tyson stated. He had originally planned to hold onto Hilary from around her legs, but now, as he stood there, he hesitated.

"Well?" Hilary questioned in irritation. Her arms were out at her side in an attempt to hold onto her balance.

Tyson coughed nervously, "Heh... I guess I just never thought how awkward this would be." To hide his blush, he decided to just go along with the plan. He wrapped his arms tightly around her legs before lifting her off the unsteady seat of the toilet, causing her to squeal in nervousness. "Just don't kick me in the crotch."

Hilary grappled onto the frame of the window for some extra balance. "Then don't you dare drop me."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismissed in strain, making sure he had a good hold of the female. "How about you check the window now?"

"I am," she scolded. Hilary flicked the latches that kept the window sealed and then attempted to lift up the bulky frame. "It's not working." She decided to play with the latches again before going to lift the window. "It won't budge."

"Seriously?" Tyson grumbled, miffed that the only sensible idea hadn't worked. He stepped away from the window, again making Hilary squeal in uneasiness; her hands clutched onto his head, gripping to his hair in fear. "Aah! Jeez," he shouted, slowly letting her down to sit on the bathroom counter. Her grip did not falter, her arms moving to remain around his neck regardless of her safety. "This is unbelievable..."

The click of the door startled both teens, having not heard the house make a noise signalling another visitor. Tyson and Hilary turned to stare at Mr. Tatibana, their faces cheek to cheek, as anger enveloped her Father's expression.

He swiftly walked into the room, grabbing a hold of Tyson's upper arm. "Get away from my daughter," he seethed, forcefully moving him toward the now open doorway. Hilary gulped at the scene playing before her. "First I catch you in the closet, and now the bathroom?"

Tyson was confused by the man's brash behaviour and exactly why he was being yelled at like a common criminal. "Don't blame me; maybe you should learn how to install a door correctly."

"Leave," Mr. Tatibana snapped, pointing toward the staircase down the hall. "Go home. You're not allowed to see my daughter anymore."

"Dad," Hilary started.

"No. My decision is final," Mr. Tatibana disregarded his daughter's words, his gaze still penetrating an unmoving Tyson. "I don't care how many excuses you have for him, he's not an acceptable boyfriend. I don't even know why you would consider him one, you deserve so much better."

Tyson looked pass the angered man to meet Hilary's gaze, which she soon avoided. "Boyfriend?" he repeated slowly.

"I knew when I first heard about you dating my daughter I wouldn't be impressed. I don't even know why I let Hilary convince me to give you a chance," her Father continued, "You've done nothing but upset and embarrass my family since you got here."

Tyson nodded slowly, his brain working out everything and the realizations were beginning to get under his skin. "I guess she should've just been honest from the start..."

"Don't blame this on my daughter. Leave."

"No problem," the navy haired boy said, giving one final look to Hilary. His voice was low and his expression was dark. "I don't think I want to be here, anyway."