Series: Beyblade
Genre: General
Author: Aethyrial Flame
Summary: It is something strange between them, and he knows not neither that which she wants nor needs; and it perplexes him, for she wants for none of those.
Disclaimer: I don't own beyblade or it associated characters and trademarks, but I do own the original characters and settings in this one-shot.
Well, decided to stick this chapter up. I always wanted to do one of those 'girl joins bladebreakers' fanfics, but I've decided to take a different spin on it. I'm thinking of writing five pieces as a start, one from each perspective of the boys.
This has a different feel to the other chapter, mostly because it's only 11pmish, and I didn't read anything weird to get me in the mood, heh.
Anyway, hope you all enjoy and thankyou for the lovely reviews
(oh, and on a side note; I am revising most of my stories, hope to put up the fixed chapters soon, when I get off my lazy backside.)
Chapter Two: Like Cat and Dog
She watches.
He knows that she does this, and that there is no real malice to it, so he ignores the shifting and rustling, the cautious way she edges closer, and the flicker of green to gold as her curiosity gets the better of her.
And they always said that cats where the curious ones…
Sometimes, they get mistaken for twins.
When she is quiet (which rarely happens) there is a melancholy beauty to her face and body; she is all long limbs and coltish grace, but there is a promise of beauty about her, and it witches in the twilight like dusky ropes of gauze.
He is quiet, too, with the sorrows of long past darkening those exquisite amber eyes of his (she is always praising him for them, and shows no shame in this) and long, silky black hair. To the outside world he is soft spoken and quietly confident, a core of steel expertly hidden, his claws only shown when needed.
They baffle those that know them; like dog and cat, they are expected to fight, not enjoy one another's company.
She is content to curl up against him, limbs splayed every which way as she nuzzles and tunnels, rubbing and arching, with the innocence of a young child who knows not the effect of their actions.
Her actions are borne with the steady competence of one who has faithfully guarded many younger children, and she knows this, and takes full advantage of it.
Sometimes, people speculate.
In public she is free with her affections, a coy smile here and an enthusiastic hug there; her boundless energy spills out onto those around her. But it takes only a few words to have her withdrawing, sullen and confused.
Those glorious green eyes of her dull as she considers what other people think, and those thoughts weigh her down and tear at her fragile façade.
But she dances past it all with a laugh and giggle, mulling upon them only in the dark silence of night, when no one can see her cry. But he knows, because he can hear her, and she knows that he can but does it anyway because it doesn't really matter.
Bright.
She is bright, like a falling star; the light in their midst, the one that distracts them from the seriousness and deadly danger of the situation they are in, that he can feel whipping close buy like the steel jaws of a trap.
It is rare that other notice her, of course; they see the smile, the sparkle, and her outrageous outfits, and dismiss her. She doesn't compete properly, only for show, a measure of the strength of their team, a display for the public.
That eats at her; she is there for convenience only. When it comes down to the line, it is not she who frets and worries about the out come of the battle, of the consequences of a loss and a win.
For her it does not matter, not really, anyway, but it hurts her anyway and she suffers alongside them, because she wants to know what this pain is like that they feel.
He pushes her away in anger, in shame and in hurt, after yet another loss in play, in practice. Thick in his throat, his pride sticks and refuses to be swallowed, refuses to bow down to this cocky little boy who knows nothing!
But she just gives him a sad little smile, and looks at him with old, old eyes.
She never says anything, and if he hurts her when he pushes to hard she never complains, simply hides the bruises and smiles that little bit brighter.
The guilt tears at him, made even the worse buy her unconditional forgiveness, and sometimes he just… just wants to make her cry, because she cant be so sweet and sad all the time and it just doesn't work what does it take whywontshebreak whywontshebreaklikehehasdone!
Breath whistling in his throat, he slides down the wall, fist a bloody mess, knuckles bare expect for tatters of flesh that mar the sickly white of cartilage and bone.
This time, it is not Her who finds him, it is Him, and he wonders if that is really better.
Cold artic eyes stare down at him, impassive despite their bright, lurid colour. He feels himself drowning in them, suffocating in a sea of blood that clings thickly to his body, and the metallic stench quickly invades his nose.
He looks away for a moment, speaks in a gruff, low voice and expertly bandages him. Amber eyes shadowed, he looks away into the distance and remains silent, as he is coarsely admonished to remember practice, to attend, to give it his best.
And in those silent moments in between Him and leaving and the Others returning, a bitter pang wrenches his heart.
Because for a moment, he'd seen eyes as gold and as dark as his reflected in the glass of the window, and the pain in them had made his body go cold.
"Please?"
She begs, oh so prettily, hands clasped before her as she bats her eyes in a ridiculous fashion.
Laughing, he crumples gratefully, and loads her plate with more. Shouting victoriously, she wriggles in her seat and taunts the jeering boy across from her.
Brown eyes invisible behind his enormous bowl, her cousin snarks something rude back, and continues eating.
Giggling, she picks delicately at her meal, and yet she consumes just as much, though it is never as noticeable.
He slants her a quick smile, and from the cover of their bodies and the chairs she gives his long braid a tug. Arching an eyebrow (because he knows that she hates not being able to do it) he watches her squirm guiltily before baring fang in a smirk, and returning to his own dinner.
She smiles, picks a piece of corn out, and pops it into her mouth. Seconds later and a pink tongue snakes out to sweep the faint, greasy traces of butter from about her lips, and that strange shudder races over his body as she does so, gaze locked upon the lower portion of her face.
Then he is bumped and laughing with his team-mates once more, ignoring the innocent temptress beside him as she offers him some of the sweet yellow vegetable with a wicked, knowing smile.
A crude remark from over the trouble has her shouting, and soon enough she and her cousin are marching from the restuarnt and out into the sultry night time. He knows of the dangers they will ignore, and slips silently from his chair to guard them.
Cat-silent, he whispers out with a soft 'shush-shush' of his feet on the expensive carpet, and grins quickly, a flash of white in the darkness, as he spots the two shouting at one another in the street.
Never mind the darkness they had just defeated in the ancient subways beneath this, the city of love, the two where fighting it out like nothing else, arching and hissing, posturing and bragging.
"Oh, get off it already- me 'n Dragoon are gonna take them all down!"
He boasts, and she growls, the deep throated sound at odds with her delicate, fey appearance.
"And what about glory for someone else! I wanted to fight Oliver, but noooo-"
"You weren't even there!"
"Point being? You should have asked!"
"What, call you up and go, 'oh may I please fight this nice European Champion, okaa-san?' "
He simpered in a high falsetto, and blood rushes to her face at the censure in his tone. She flails wildly for a witty comeback, and fails, rage blinding her.
"Ass!"
She finally screeches, fists clenched buy her sides, eyes glowing with that uncanny radiance.
"Fat-cow,"
The brash boy shoots back, and lets out a whoop as she snarls and jumps for him.
He considers butting in, but has learnt that is safer to let the two fight it out, and instead admires the oddly artistic portrait of flashing black and silver against indigo, beneath the buttery warm lights.
But the noise of the two fighting draws out their most esteemed captain, and it takes only a few curt words on his behalf to have them flushing with shame and stalking away from one another.
And when that eagle-fierce gaze is turned on him, he shrugs and grins, baring fang, before laughing sheepishly.
"You know how those two get,"
He apologizes, and his voice is a warning.
Ice rustles, crimson burns, and then he turns away with an indifferent shrug.
Then they are hauled back to the hotel like the half grown teenagers they are, and he shares a secret smile with her as they are berated with cutting words and just as potent glares. Her eyes laugh with golden sparks, and he sees them past the tousled black hair just touched with silver, the rumpled clothing and the dirty smudges.
Because he is a master at waiting, and he knows that she comes to him before all others.
And for now, that is enough.
"Lost! How in hells name could you lose, you ungrateful little bastard!"
She screeches, and he winces at the volume. Pride still stinging from the defeat, the teen in question is quick to retaliate.
"I'd like to see you do better, Miss Perfect!"
"Oh, do shut up, I have a date with that little sod now, all because you lost. Go away,"
Is her complaint, but there is less of true anger in her voice than there perhaps should be, and she promptly storms next door to her room, catching him buy the arm as she does so.
"What to wear, what to wear… I don't wanna encourage the little lech, yuck,"
She mutters, and he amuses himself with her running commentary as he takes a seat on her bed, playing 'Big Sister' again as she fossicks through her bag. Idly, he begins to wonder what she will wear, playing a familiar game.
"This?"
She queries, and he barely has time to see the outfit before it is tossed into a corner and she is snatching up a new one. He eyes the clothing flying about the room, tamps down the urge to chase after it, and stretches out on the bed for a nap.
When he wakes up, she is flushed and red from a shower, faded blue denim riding low on her hips, and a loose t-shirt she stole from him some time back deftly concealing her growing curves.
He arches an eyebrow at the faint traces of makeup on her face because he knows she hates it, and grins as she tackles him.
They roll around the bed for a moment before he lets her win, and she straddles him triumphantly, leaning down to nip his nose. Neither have heard the door open, and both shoot a guilty glance towards it when it slams closed.
Shamed, they crawl away, and she pulls on her trainers as he silently leaves, both somehow embarrassed buy what they know is natural for their kind.
Then she is at the door to their rooms, shy and dawdling, and demands that they all escort her until she is picked up. They fuss and groan, some more than others, but he just winks and playfully musses her hair.
"Try to leave him in once piece,"
Is his advice;
"Find a way to beat that sucker,"
Her cousin shouts, fists pumping the air.
"Order something expensive,"
The blonde tells her with a sly wink, and the shortest and youngest of them all, but admittedly the smartest, simply wishes her well quietly.
"I know you'll have fun."
And, leaning up against the wall, a cold eyed teen simply refuses to look at her, face impassive. She hesitates, and eyes the boys surrounding her, before her face becomes steely with determination.
He hides a grin, knowing what is it to come, because she has pulled this stunt before and it is, above all, his favourite.
Expression resolute, she storms over to the silent teen, grabs an arm, and yanks.
No one expects her to be able to move him; and indeed, she does not, for a moment. But then he stumbles and she is triumphantly towing the icy haired teen out the door, and hastily muffled snickers follow them as the group troupes down to the lobby.
Once within sight of the doors he shakes her off, muttering something in a low, dark tone of voice.
She blushes darkly and punches him in the shoulder, before spinning on her heel and marching out to meet the smirking blonde standing before the limo.
He calls out after her, voice brazen in the muted quite of sunset;
"Don't forget, and don't exert yourself too much, remember?"
It seems impossible, but she blushes even harder, and yanks the blonde into the long car after her, earning a yelp as his head skims the top of the doorway.
Then, oddly subdued, the group of boys meander their way back up to their room, till the blonde suggests a round of poker, and they never notice when she stumbles in later than they thought, a silly grin on her face.
He suspects what might have happened, but finds that it does not matter; he has a full house, and will win at any moment, after all.
Heehee, I have a few ideas for the enxt chapter, but tell me what you think; Max or Kenny, next?