Yes, I'm back. Bwa ha ha ha ha. And I've dusted off this old thang and added a chappie for y'all.
Special thanks goes out to Vampyre Neko for reviewing the same chapter 3 different times, and for alerting me to the fact that this fic had been dead since janvier (January). I'm sure if you're reading this, you're thanking her too. Extra desserts for you, Neko!!! Normally I'd be offering cookies, donuts, and cheesecake, but due to the plotline of this particular chappie, I'm obliged to throw in danishes. Enjoy!!!
----------A Smile and a Kiss-----Chapter 4-----Reunion----------
There was a certain something in the air that Tyson just couldn't put his finger too. Something was going to happen today. Something unusual. Tyson could feel it in the air.
Across the snow-covered park, Tyson caught the eye of a familiar girl in a pink winter jacket. Tyson studied Hillary for a minute, before running off to join his friends from school in an all-out snowball fight. Everyone was convinced that Hillary had the biggest crush on Tyson—everyone except for Tyson, that is. Tyson figured he'd know if a girl was in love with him. And he couldn't figure out why someone would want to make your life totally miserable if they loved you, anyway.
Meanwhile, at a fancy 5-star hotel down the street from the park, Piddlesworth was busily making preparations for Oliver, Robert, and Enrique's stay. Unfortunately, it was near Christmas time, and everyone was a bit busy and rather distracted, except for poor Piddlesworth. Staring out the vast windows of the lobby, Piddlesworth wondered when the boys would finally arrive, and when he and Master Enrique could finally leave this—Arctic—weather behind for the much more humane, civilized, heat of Bella Italia.
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Enrique breathed onto the window, watching with a childlike fascination as the plane's window fogged up. He paused, before sticking his finger onto the fogged area and drawing a simple freckled smiley face with spiky hair. Oliver and Robert, who were sitting next to him in that order, smiled slightly, realizing who Enrique was drawing. Enrique turned around to look at them and smiled back. Life was good.
Then the agony struck. A baby a few rows behind them started bawling its eyes out. The three boys physically cringed.
"Robert—remind me again why we had to take a public jet instead of a private one." Enrique said low.
"In three words—Gustav was cheap." Robert replied.
"Since when did Gustav have a say in how we traveled and how your money was spent?" Oliver piped up.
"Since Gustav concluded that I spent too much money on that personal stadium. According to Gustav, we only have 600 million dollars U.S."
"Only?" Enrique sounded stunned. Only? That was a lot of money, even by the Majestic's standards.
"My thoughts exactly. It's not like we're anywhere near poverty or anything. I could see Gustav's rationalization of the money if we had like, 1 million, but 600 million—Gustav's being ridiculous. Oh well, I suppose I must humour him. He's served me for a long time." Robert paused to adjust his jacket, which had gotten slightly messed-up when Oliver had gone to lean on his shoulder for a nap earlier. "By the way, what information did you give Piddlesworth?"
Enrique grinned. He decided to get on Robert's nerves. "I told him we wanted the Penthouse suite, complete with the matching magazines, and that we'd only need two bedrooms. Oh, and I also requested that the rooms be fairly soundproof, since no one outside will want to know what's going on inside."
"Enrique, you perve." Oliver giggled. Robert, on the other hand, squirmed uncomfortably.
Enrique smirked.
"Hmmm…" Robert paused. He knew Enrique just wanted to get on his nerves. What Robert needed right now was a good comeback line. Then Robert smirked. He knew just the line. "You honestly expect to be doing those things with Max?"
Oliver started choking and gagging. Enrique looked stunned. Robert had an ear-to-ear grin. God, what a beautiful comeback that had been.
"Robert…" Enrique managed to say after a minute. "You perve."
Robert just smirked all the more.
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Tyson was in his room, typing out an essay on the computer. God, what a boring assignment he'd been forced to do on Danish royalty. Why couldn't it have been something about pastry? When Tyson had learned what his topic was (as everyone was assigned a different topic) he had hoped that cherry danishes or something along those lines would be included along with the Royal Family. But nope, no mention of pastries yet. How boring.
He was about to call Grandpa for yet another glass of Coca-Cola to help keep him awake when he heard the doorbell ring. Almost simultaneously, 3 different voices all called out "I'll get it!"
Out of the 3, Jin was the first one to the door. Tyson could hear Jin's voice saying "Hello there, sir" and then the sound of the door opening even wider. "Hello Jin" a familiar voice answered. "Where might Tyson be?"
"He should be here soon. What's taking him so long? TYSON—ah, there you are!" Jin replied as Tyson came around the corner. "Mr., Dickenson's here."
"Mr. Dickenson?" Tyson replied, surprised. "Heya sir, what brings you here?" Tyson asked, shaking Mr. Dickenson's hand in greeting.
"There are special visitors due to touch ground in about an hour." Mr. Dickenson responded. "I'm about to head to the airport now, but I would like some company. Would you like to tag along?"
"Tyson, it's 8 o'clock already. You need to be in bed by 10, and you still have that essay to finish." Jin piped up. "I'm not sure if Grandpa will let you."
"Aw, what the heck?" Gramps piped up. "Let the lil' dude go. He can have the whole day off tomorrow."
"Dang it. I was looking forward to having the house to myself." said Jin. "Ah well then Tyson, guess that means you can go. Bye!!!" Jin called after him, as Tyson had just started to leave with Mr. Dickenson.
"Yeah. Bye!!!" Tyson called back as he climbed into Mr. Dickenson's waiting car.
15 minutes later, Tyson had arrived at the airport with Mr. Dickenson. The two were waiting by the luggage belt. Tyson had nagged Mr. Dickenson the whole way up as to who they were picking up at the airport, but had yet to receive a response.
"C'mon Mr. D, tell me who it is. Please?" Tyson pleaded. Why would Mr. Dickenson want to keep this such a secret?
"Sorry Tyson." Mr. Dickenson replied. "I want this to be a surprise for everyone."
"Fine then." Tyson grumbled. "Which plane are we looking for?"
"Flight 86 out of Copenhagen." was Mr. D's response.
"Copenhagen, Copenhagen, Copenhagen. Where have I heard that name before?" Tyson wondered. Then it clicked. "Ah!!! Copenhagen, Denmark!!! That's where the Danish Royal Family lives!!!"
Mr. Dickenson chuckled to himself. So Tyson hadn't made the connection between Copenhagen and the mysterious visitors. Ah well. He'd figure it out once he saw who it was. Speaking of them…their plane had apparently just come in.
------------------------5 minutes later------------------------------
Tyson was happily munching on a Danish, content at the moment. Whoever it was who was coming was bound to be here soon. Mr. Dickenson himself had just said that their plane had just arrived and they were due down here any minute. Something brushed against Tyson's shoulder, but he paid no attention to it. Probably someone who had just accidentally brushed his shoulder with their bag or something.
Then Tyson felt a poke. Something had poked his shoulder. He still didn't give it much thought, though. He knew there was a small group of people standing right behind him. It was probably them just brushing against him by accident.
The next thing Tyson knew, his shoulders were in excruciating pain. "Owww!!!" he yelped.
"Sorry about that." replied a familiar voice, laced with a bit of a European accent.
"We tried getting your attention earlier" piped up a second voice, also with a slight European accent. "But apparently your pastry is more important."
Tyson whirled around. "Enrique, Oliver, Robert—what are you guys doing here?"
"Wanting your Danish." Enrique piped up. "I'm starving."
"You want another Danish?!" Oliver questioned. "But that's all they served us on the play outta Copenhagen!!!"
"Yeah? So?" Enrique responded.
"Okay guys, stop fighting. Let me ask you a more important question—who broke my shoulders?" Tyson rubbed his sore shoulders. Owwie…
"Depends. How badly will you hurt that person?"
"Don't worry, Enrique; I'm in no shape to hurt anybody at the moment."
"Sorry about that, dude. That was me."
"Aww, it's okay."
"Come along now, boys." Mr. Dickenson called out. "Tyson has a paper he needs to finish for school."
"A paper?! It's more like 20!!! Actually, Jin only counted 12—but that's still a lot!!!" Tyson bubbled.
The Euro boys chuckled. They knew what that was like. Sure, they didn't go to school, but they still had tutors who gave them tests and made them write reports. In some ways, having a tutor was worse then going to school. At least if you went to sleep in school, chances are, half the class would be asleep with you, so you wouldn't be noticed as easily. If you went to sleep in front of your tutor, well—it'd be noticed. Unless your tutor was as blind as a bat, but in that case, you'd probably be snoring, so he'd pick up on that.
"What's your paper on, Tyson?" Oliver asked, out of curiosity.
"Danish royalty." Tyson sniffed. "Shame none of the research anywhere mentions anything about pastries."
"Hey!!!"
Tyson turned. "Something wrong, Robert?"
"That sounded vaguely like an insult." Robert replied.
"Chill dude, it wasn't. Well, not unless you're Danish…" Tyson had no clue where Robert lived, really. Which was kinda sad, considering he'd been to Robert's house—er, castle—before.
Robert raised an eyebrow in disbelief. And suddenly, something clicked in Tyson's brain. That's where he had heard Copenhagen before…it wasn't only some city in Denmark frequently cited by his research, it was also where Robert lived.
"Ahh!!! I'm so sorry dude!!! You are Danish!!! It totally slipped my mind!!! Dammit, how can I be so stupid?!!!"
"I don't know, Tyson. You astound me at times." Robert answered in a bored monotone. "You've even been to my residence, for crying out loud, and you still don't know where I live."
"Hey! It's not like knowing where you live is a big priority on my list!" Tyson shouted in response.
Robert gave a small smile. "Do you want any help with your assignment or not?"
"Sure!!!" Tyson happily chirped. "Do you know anything about the royalty there?"
Robert was trying very hard to keep from laughing. So were Oliver and Enrique. Robert was the only one who was successful. "Lots." He replied.
Mr. Dickenson chuckled. "I guess that means you're not aware, Tyson."
"Aware of what?"
"Aware of who Robert is."
"Huh?" Tyson was even more confused now.
"I'm Danish Royalty." Robert replied simply.
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Meh. Yes, I know I promised earlier that this chappie was going to be way more Bladebreakers-oriented. I'm sorry, I weakened [sweatdrops] I couldn't resist.
I apologise if Jin (Tyson's older brother) seems out-of-character. I haven't seen any of G-Revolution yet, so I have no clue what his personality's like.
[points Johnny's poleaxe at your neck] Review…or the last thing you'll here will be "Choppy!!!" Just kidding. Review or this story will perish yet again.
Reviewers get whatever's left over from Vampyre Neko's dessert tray.