Yay! Finally! I'm back! Anyway, this was something I came up with right before I went to sleep one night, so yeah, it's a bit of a strange idea, but I hope I've made the best of it! And please, please, please let me know if my characters are OOC! I tried really hard, but alas, I've been separated from my recorded episodes! The TV that had the VCR attatched to it is gone! -cries- So, let me know what you guys think!

George de Sand walked quietly, reservedly into the fine hotel's noisy lobby. He made his way through the crowd of tournament spectators toward the check-in desk, pausing here and there to say hello or to sign an autograph for some fan that was presently doubting their own eyes and ears. He arrived, along with the bellboy that had his luggage, at his destination, where the smiling concierge typed in his name and retrieved his room key. George handed her his credit card, smiling inwardly that he didn't even have to tell the black-haired lady who he was. There are some things about fame, George thought, which I enjoy greatly. He hurried to the elevator, not wanting to miss the one that he saw opening. He made it, and saw the reason as he stepped inside; Chibodee had held the door for him. Chibodee was staying in this hotel…! George nodded his thanks to the American, groaning in his mind. So much for "secret" battle plans… He cursed his luck.

He had been so wrapped up in devising ways to avoid the rambunctious youth that he forgot to press the button for his floor. He was delighted, however, to see that it arrived on the fourth floor without his assistance. As he was preparing to step out, Chibodee strolled into the hallway, followed by the man that was helping him with his bags. George's eyes grew large as he watched his blue-and-pink-haired opponent turn right down the hall; the direction that George was to take to reach his room! Why must Fate be so ironically cruel? As George neared number 423, his room, he thought he saw Chibodee unlocking the door to it! Surely, they wouldn't give us the same room! There must be a mistake… He thought irrationally. Then he realized Chibodee was staying in the room next to his! How am I to avoid him now? George opened the door to his room and allowed the bellboy to precede him, gave him a moderate tip, and closed the door as he left.

As George gloomily unpacked his bags, there were three loud knocks placed upon his door and a very familiar "Hey, George!" called. George prayed to everything he knew to pray to that it wasn't whom he thought it was, but as he opened the door, his prayers weren't answered. Chibodee smiled at him from the other side of the threshold.

"Hey, buddy! Funny coincidence, us gettin' rooms this close, huh?" The American looked perfectly natural on the outside, but in truth, his insides were squirming like they never had before. He had never noticed how soft George's hair looked, or how it gleamed in the dim light coming from the hotel room. What am I thinking? There are tons of girls who are interested in me… Why am I looking at George like that? I'm a normal guy, I wouldn't… would I?

George smiled softly, hoping that Chibodee thought he was looking at the ground out of modesty instead of the truth; George couldn't look at Chibodee without blushing. He didn't understand it, but something about Chibodee's eyes meeting his made him feel… What? Stupid? No… more like… inexperienced. Inexperienced at what? At what… I've dreamt about doing… with him… Now George blushed anyway, recalling his dreams about Chibodee. They made no sense, really—that's what George kept telling himself. You can't control your subconscious; his dreams were no reflection upon his feelings for Chibodee.

"Yes, it is," the Frenchman replied very softly. "Would you like to come in?" he stepped aside, making room for Chibodee to enter. And do what? George didn't want to know.

"Sure." Chibodee walked in the room, marveling at George's sweet scent as he walked past. He took achair as it was offered, except he sat gently down on the seat, not moving after he did so. His back perfectly straight, hands on his knees; one would almost say he was trying to be like the red-haired young man sitting on the bed across from him.

George laughed a little at Chibodee's unusual posture. "You may make yourself comfortable, Chibodee, there's no need to put on airs."

Chibodee unknowingly blushed as he re-positioned himself in the plush chair.

"So then, are you staying any longer after the tournament has ended?" George, always the cool, collected one, asked, not wanting the conversation to fall into the abyss of awkward silence before it even got started.

"Well, it depends... Are you?" he blurted before his brain could get his mouth to stop. His eyes got as big as tennis balls and he slapped a hand over his mouth, thinking it sounded a lot worse than it did.

George laughed nervously, wondering what Chibodee meant by that… "Surely, it wouldn't depend on whether I stayed or not… Would it?" he no longer cared about manners. If Chibodee was saying what George thought he was saying, this would be… well… a dream come true!

"Uhh… Yeah, I guess it kinda would," Chibodee scratched the back of his head, smiling nervously. "I mean, ya know, a friendly face… an' all…" He trailed off, suddenly hypnotized by George's lips. So pink and soft, so… kissable… He shook his head quickly. "Sorry 'bout that," he stammered. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought. I'd bettergo…" He stood up, all but begging the floor to swallow him. He would explain to the residents of that room later.

"No!" George jumped up, sounding a little more urgent than was his custom. "I mean… er… There's… no need to… be embarrassed… Well, I suppose we both are now!" he laughed slightly, trying to lighten the mood. Words normally came to him easier; maybe Chibodee was right, maybe they were both just tired. But for some reason, he didn't want Chibodee to go, not yet. "Chibodee… What were you looking at… just now?" he asked anxiously, hoping he already knew the answer.

"Um… nothin'! Nothin' at all!" he laughed, praying that George didn't press him, because he couldn't lie to this young man. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did… He turned his back to George, not wanting the redhead to see his blush.

"Chibodee, I think I already know, if that helps. And I… think I feel the same way."

"You what?" Chibodee turned back around quickly, wondering if he heard him right. The same way? No… he's gotta be thinking of something else. It can't be…

"Were you… thinking of… kissing me?" George did something he almost never did: fidgeted.

Chibodee wasn't sure what he thought he was going to do, but what he did was the complete opposite of that; he moved closer to George. He got so close, in fact, that he could smell the Frenchman's breath: minty sweet. Of course he would constantly have mints on hand. Chibodee laughed to himself.

"Yeah… I was." The American's whisper was full of emotions that he himself couldn't describe. The next thing, he would never forget; he kissed George. HE KISSED GEORGE! His utter elation would have to wait. He wanted to focus on nothing but the feel of those soft, sweet lips upon his…

George was swept away by red waves of passion, the gentle yet so powerful force washing him onto a beach he'd never before been to. He quickly wrapped his arms around the young man's strong neck, savoring the spicy scent that was parading through his nose. Without a second thought, he parted his lips, wanting Chibodee to take the offer and so much more… As the American acquiesced to his request, George felt a tingling sensation spread from his mouth to every single part of his body, including one in particular… He was suddenly very aware of… himself and knew that the moment had ended. He was too self-conscious to let this continue. He pulled away from Chibodee gently, breathing hard, not able to meet the young man's confused gaze. He rested his hands on thefirm chest in front of him, expanding and contracting rapidly as Chibodee tried to catch his breath as well.

"Wha… Why'd ya… pull back?" The boxer was lost. One moment, George had given him free reign over his mouth, and the next, he couldn't even look him in the eyes!

George sat down heavily on the bed, crossing his legs in what looked like a normal fashion, but was really a discreet cover-up. Chibodee had seen it, and done it, too many times for it to fool him, though, and the realization of this made him blush and grin at the same time. George had enjoyed it! Chibodee didn't think it was possible for the redhead to show emotion, let alone get excited! He sat down next to George and threw his arm around the slight shoulders of the Frenchman.

"Now, you bein' French and all, don't tell me you ain't never had a French kiss!" Chibodee laughed, noticing that George blushed even more. Chibodee reached up and gently turned George's pale chin towards him, willing those violet eyes to look into his. They refused, however, hiding under the red bangs. Chibodee simply settled for the next best thing; he kissed George again. His tongue forced its way through the pink gates and teased George's tongue, bidding it respond. It did, though he could tell George didn't know how. He found this cute, and made him want to show George even more…

After several glorious moments, the boys discovered that, to their dismay, they needed to breathe. They pulled back at the same time, panting, but George's fingers still entwined in Chibodee's hair, and Chibodee's arms still wrapped tightly around George's slim waist. George looked into Chibodee's eyes, wanting an explanation, wanting more, wanting to be let go, wanting to be held forever, wanting so much. Chibodee just smiled at him.

"You know that… this could never be… known to the public. They would all think that we were… playing unfairly, somehow. We would be banned from the tournament and would… shame our countries. We shouldn't even be… speaking." George, once again, couldn't meet Chibodee's eyes. But this time it was from shame.

"Yeah… But if you're willin' to keep a secret, so am I." Chibodee tilted George's chin up, the look in the American's eyes assuring George that he would never betray them.

The Frenchman nodded. "Yes. Yes, I am willing."

George then kissed Chibodee.

So, what did you think? Anyone think Chibodee's slang was too much, 'cause I was afraid of that... Anyone want me to make a sequel? Anyone think I'm a complete idiot? lol I would LOVE reviews, even if they are bad,'cause I know this is a strange pairing and I'd like to know what to do with it!

Kitsune loves reviewers!