Title: Behind the mask.
Summary: Michael is a jock and that's all that there is to it. And he begins to believe that himself after a fight with his team. But will another Beyblade team convince him otherwise?
Pairings: Tala/Michael.
Warnings: Yaoi.
Disclaimer: Don't own Beyblade.
I don't think anyone has done this pairing yet. If not, than I claim the first :P.
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"Listen, Emily. I didn't touch your bloody laptop, Ok?" Michael felt his eye twitch at the orange hair girl in front of him. The said girl came to him a few minutes ago, demanding to know what Michael has done to her laptop. Earlier that day the computer crashed and it was somehow his fault.
"Well, why did it crash? It had important information on it."
"I feel for you, Em, but I didn't touch the bloody thing, all right?" he inwardly sighed. Whenever something goes wrong, it's either Michael's fault because he is incompetent or he did it to get attention.
Just because he's a jock doesn't mean he's stupid.
"But I distinctly saw you around it today," the orange hair girl replied as she pushed her glasses onto her nose. "No one else is stupid enough to stuff a computer up."
"I've had it with you!" Michael exploded. "I'm sick and tired with people underestimating me. I'm sick of being treated like a stupid, useless jock. Just because I'm good at sports, doesn't mean I'm lacking in any intelligence. I know how a freaking computer works and I know how to use one. I'm not stupid, so stop treating like I am!"
Emily stared at Michael with shock, she then huffed after a moment and managed to look indignant. "Where did that come from?"
"After years of arrogance," Michael sneered. He then turned on his heel and stormed away. He left the PPA building where he and the rest of his team were training in and stalked down the nearly deserted streets.
The was very late afternoon. The sun had set and the only source of light came from the street lights and shop windows, but they too were closing up. The streets were nearly deserted and everyone was either had home or hanging around some bar or nightclub.
Michael growled and shoved his hands in his pockets. He should find somewhere to crash for the night or get a lift home. He isn't to fond about staying out on the streets at nights, especially at this time of night where street gangs are crawling out of whatever God forsaken hole they call home to start their reign of terror for the night.
Without looking where he was going, Michael stepped out onto the road, completely oblivious to the oncoming car. The car engine seemed to roar and the speed increasing.
Startled at hearing a car rev up, Michael lifted his head up only to see a set of bright car headlights. He was frozen to the spot as the car neared him. Things seemed to go in slow motion and Michael couldn't find the strength to move.
Suddenly he was crash tackled out of the way at the last minute by someone much stronger and faster than him. The car roared past as Michael grasped onto the shirt of his savior. His breathing was labored with shock and his heart racing.
That car tried to run me down. He thought startled.
Slowly he looked up at his savior. He blinked when he recognized the redhead from the Russian team. He gave a startled yelp and pushed himself out of Tala's arms. As he moved a white hot pain ripped up his leg and knee. He bite his lip in pain.
Next to him, Tala rolled his eyes. "This is the thanks I get for saving your life?"
Michael looked up at the kneeling redhead and scowled. "I never asked to be saved!"
"Well, you weren't doing much else, were you?" Tala retorted.
In pain and indignant, Michael blushed and unwilling pouted. He said nothing and turned his gaze to his knee. "Some hero you are. I have a busted knee and a twisted ankle."
"What? Did you want that car to hit you?"
"Why not?" Michael mumbled. "I'm sure people would be cheering if I did get hit."
There was a shocked silence. Tala by what Michael had said, and Michael himself by what he had just said as well.
I can't believe I just said that. He scowled himself.
"Do you want to die?" Tala asked, his voice emotionless.
Michael scoffed and looked annoyed. "Of course not!" He managed to climb to his feet and leaned heavily against a brick wall behind him. He ignored Tala and took a step forward. Pain shot up his leg again and he fell forward, right into Tala's strong chest again. He blushed.
"You're hurt." Tala said simply.
Michael tore himself out of Tala's arms to lean against the wall again, the blush still marring his cheeks. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch."
"Is that so?" Tala said, crossing his arms over his chest, staring blankly at the fiery American. "Well then stand up properly."
"Why should I listen to you?" Michael sneered.
"So, you are hurt."
"I am not! It's only a scratch."
"Well, then why are you still here arguing with me? Why don't you just walk away?" Tala retorted, raising an eyebrow. He's finding this teen quite amusing.
"I was just about to do that," Michael replied and tried to walk again. Once again a white hot, sharp pain ripped through his leg and he fell again, but this time Tala didn't catch him. He fell on the cement, biting his lip in pain. "Ow," he muttered.
Tala looked down at the pathetic boy. "A scratch, huh?"
"Oh, shut up!" Michael said in complete embarrassment.
Tala smirked then turned on his heel, slowly walking away. "Later," he called over his shoulder.
"Hey!" Michael said in surprised. "Where are you going!"
Tala pauses and shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'm leaving. You said that you're fine and you clearly don't want my help, so there's no point in sticking around."
"I never said that!" Michael found himself saying before he had time to think about it.
"So, you do want my help?"
"I didn't say that!" He cried, indignant, the blush returning to his cheeks.
Tala rolled his eyes and started to walk again. "Later," he muttered again.
"No, wait!" Michael cried. The thought of being left alone, defenseless, in the middle of a back street that will soon be crawling with druggies and deadbeats is terrifying him. He was relieved when Tala paused mid step again. "I can't walk, ok?" he managed to mumble.
"And?"
"And…" Michael's voice turns soft and timid. He lowered his eyes to the ground, feeling useless. "I need your help."
Slightly confused, Tala blinked. The fiery teen he was just arguing with seemed to have been replaced by a timid, lost young boy. He turned around and felt something tug at his heart at the lost and injured expression of the young American.
"Fine," Tala replied, walking back over to the injured teen, who's head snapped up, relieved. "I'll take you back to the PPA building, but no further. I don't need your teammates accusing me of what has just happened."
"I don't want to go back to the PPA," Michael mutters as his hand unknowingly moving to rub his arm in a slightly embarrassed way.
Tala blinked. "Why not?"
"I just don't want to, ok!" Michael snapped.
"No need to get prickly with me," Tala retorted. "Especially after I just saved your life."
Michael's eyes turned from hateful to sad and embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his sad eyes turning to look at the ground.
Sighing, Tala crouched down in front of Michael, his back towards him. "Well then I'll take you back to where I'm staying. You can handle that, can't you?"
Michael scowled again but climbed onto the Russian's back, placing his hands on the strong shoulders. "I'll be fine," he muttered.
Slowly, Tala stood up and then props Michael up on his back, getting a better grip. He began walking in the opposite direction Michael was heading in, turning a few corners, entering a totally different street.
"Hey," Michael said, quietly. "Why are you in America? Are you alone?"
"No," Tala replied, keeping his eyes forward. "The rest of the Blitzkrieg boys are here, too."
"Why, though?"
"We have our reasons," Tala replied simply.
"I see." Michael muttered and decided to remain quiet. Without realizing it he leaned forward and placed his cheek against Tala's shoulder. He closes his eyes.
I can't believe this, Michael thought to himself. Tala from the Blitzkrieg boys just saved my life and is now taking me back to his place where the rest of the Blitzkrieg boys are. This is going to be really awkward. I suppose the best that I can hope for is that Kai is there. I can sorta talk to him, I guess.
He suddenly felt tired and his eyelids heavy. A dull ache from his leg seemed to numb his thoughts and he drifted off into a deep sleep.
… … … … …
No one has done this pairing yet, have they? If there is one that managed to elude my grasp please tell me. Love ya bunch.
Michael: You're going to torture me again, aren't you?
(Dreamy sigh) Yes…
Michael: --;
Next chapter: Michael wakes up to find himself in Tala's room.
Please review.