A/N: wahoo! I'm typing at skewl! xD
My Porcelain Doll
Chapter Twelve
The hair at the back of his neck rose as he felt Oliver's gaze on him.
Enrique lost concentration and Spain won the second round. The Italian wheeled around and glared at the green-haired boy who was standing at the hallway adjoining the stadium and the lockers. Oliver smiled and waved.
The blonde rolled his eyes and turned to the third round of his game, vowing to win and throw Spain out of the Top 5.
"What're you thinking?" a voice whispered in Oliver's ear as two hands gave him a pseudo-backrub.
The frenchie immediately relaxed and leaned into Johnny's chest.
"Nothing really..." he replied as they both watched Enrique's game. "I just feel like I've known him before, that's all. But the feeling's only very slight..."
The redhead looked at the said boy out on the dish. He was relieved to be handing Oliver to the care of someone he trusted...while he himself went out in pursuit of other things...
"Jonathan...we have a score to settle."
The Scott jumped a mile in the air and slowly turned to look. Oh. Speaking of other pursuits...
Oliver brightened but said nothing; leaving it up to Johnny whether he should introduce him or not.
"Hn. Robert this is Oliver." Johnny began. "Oliver this is Mr. Big Ass..."
The young chef nodded in acknowledgement, lavender eyes flashed mischievously as he retreated in the back ground."
"...and yes. I DO have a score to settle with you..." the Scott continued. "After this game..." he jerked his thumb towards Enrique out on the dish. "I haven't forgotten..." he smiled.
Robert returned it. "I thought too preoccupied in buying new pants." he said. "They're awfully tight..." and with that he walked away.
Oliver walked up to the stunned Johnny and stared after the German before bursting into hysterics.
"Merdi Alors! No way..." the grass haired boy grabbed the redhead's shoulders and made him face him. "You ARE hard!"
"sSshut it!' the elder hissed, blushing horribly. Oliver was still giggling.
"What did I miss?" Enrique came in, a triumphant winner and emptied a large bottle of ice water. "Hey your game's up next." he added, slapping Johnny on the back.
"Yes..." he replied through gritted teeth. "And so I was so forcefully reminded a while ago..."
"You should've seen it Enri!" Oliver filled the clueless Italian in. "It was priceless!" and he began telling him the whole incident to him in French...poor Johnny...
Enrique's jaw dropped when they got to the punch line.
"Oh my god! No way!" and the pair fell into hysterics.
"You two are so weird..." Johnny mumbled and headed to the stadium.
"Ei! Good Luck!" the Frenchman and Italian called after him and they went to the stands, talking all the way, as there was a break before their own game.
--
Johnny lost...that was a laugh.
It was even a bigger one when Oliver tried to invite Robert to go with them and eat...to no avail.
Enrique was oddly quiet all throughout break time. He was thinking about the upcoming match with Oliver. He had seen the Frenchman play. It seemed like he won so effortlessly without the use of whatsoever attack and just by the power of his pink beyblade. It wasn't like he Enri didn't like that too...it simply didn't mean that the young chef was like other competitors he had won against.
At least he had one thing the other's didn't have.
...a Holy Bitbeast.
His beautiful Amphilyon.
"Earth to Enri!" Oliver almost yelled in Enrique's ear, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"Aren't you nervous?" he returned, accepting the croissant being handed to him.
"At least he gets nervous, Oli..." Johnny said. "You don't...you big airhead."
Oliver whacked him with his half-eaten french bread. "I worry too Johnny. I just don;t let it get in the way of my performance. 'Say I'm used to diverting it..."
"It's my first time..." Enrique said, taking a bite out of the pastry.
"Don't use it as an excuse," Oliver warned him, sipping his tea with utmost elegance. "There's something called beginner's luck..."
The blonde stuck his tongue out. "Excuse me...I've got skill."
"So you're telling me preliminary registrations are skill?" Johnny said.
Enrique nodded. "Acrobatic skill..."
Oliver laughed. "Corny, Giancarlo...very corny..."
--
Rosette called him over the cell phone just before his match. She wished him good luck and that she and Bianca were watching his every win. Bianca herself told him that he was so luck to be battling the "uber hot French representative".
Besides that, there wasn't much fuss.
Enrique stepped onto the dish the same time as Oliver. They were both greeted by fresh screams from the crowds.
The first round provided immediate pressure. Oliver was proving to be a hard opponent. All their beyblades did was grin against each other, either one trying to throw out the other.
"Round one goes to...OLIVER!" boomed the announcer. Cheers erupted from the French side.
Enrique took a step back to catch his breath (as well as his beyblade) and nodded at the swift smile thrown by Oliver at his direction.
"Ready?" he asked. The blonde nodded again.
...and this time, he attacked.
"Round two goes to...ENRIQUE!" the announcer declared, there was a wave of screams from the Italian side.
The grass-haired boy was caught off guard. Enrique mentally jumped for joy when he saw Oliver frowning.
At the third round, the Italian's impatience and desperation were reaching the brink. But he needed to release Amphilyon at exactly. the. right. time.
The hydra reared, creathing the unearthly light only a few privilaged people can see. To his surprise, a unicorn attacked.
Enrique stole a glance at Oliver and saw him shouting commands to his Unicolyon. Resolutely, he returned his focus to Amphilyon.
This was turning out to be a totally different fight.
--
"Damn...that fight was a rotten pizza..." Enrique flopped down on the bench. Oliver had won and was leaning on Johnny for support.
"You didn't tell me you had one too..." he said.
"Had one what?" the Italian asked.
"A bitbeast..." Johnny filled in. "Those who have them are exempted from battling more than twice..."
"That ain't fair..." Enrique protested. "It mean's they'll only judge your performance by the given battle."
"They've changed the rules this year..." Oliver sighed. "They limited the number of fights a bitbeast holder does so they could reduce damage caused by their power. Our battle was chicken compared to others I've seen..." (imagine that? so by the time Bry battled Rei...bitbeast power was already reduced! xP kidding...my fic, my rules)
"They give priority to those who have one all the same." the Scott replied. "We've got better chance of representing the continent in the World Championships...even if we'll have to be a team..."
"So you're securing your win against Spain?" Enrique asked.
"Exactly." Johnny smiled. "I find no need to state the obvious."
The frenchie rolled his eyes. "Now who's an airhead?"
"You''ve battled me..." the blonde analyzed, addressing Oliver. "Who're you battling next?"
"I'm up against Germany..." he replied. "And now you could say I'm worried."
"That means Spain'll end up battling just twice too..." Enrique frowned. "This is confusing...that exception rule really isn't so effective..."
"Actually I'm quite happy I won't be battling Oliver..." Johnny mumbled.
"...and so..." Enrique continued."...the country who losses twice gets kicked out." he concluded.
Oliver patted his head. "Good boy...you got it..." he turned to smile evilly at Johnny. "And since Johnny-boy here is securing his triumph over Spain...We'll be representing Europe as a team..."
"With the German?" the blonde Italian asked.
"Don't rub it in..." Johnny glared at the bright French boy.
--
Italy, France and Scotland had one loss and win each. Germany had two wins and Spain had two losses. Oliver's conclusion seemed true enough; it was easy to see who won.
"As there is a new rule issued by the BBA, each participating country or continent would have a team...no longer a solo blader...but a team to represent in the Championships." began an elderly judge.
"We call to the stage..." said the enthusiastic announcer. "Enrique Giancarlo, Oliver Les Desmond, Johnny McGreggor and Robert Jurgen!"
There was an explosion of cheers and the four went up on stage to shake the elderly judge's hand. "Follow me to the office please." he told them and lead the way.
Enrique was feeling giddy. Oliver was close to tears, Johnny was all smiled and even proper Robert looked happy.
"Your ammo in the Championships!" the announcer declared as the small party ascended the steps, heightening the screams of the spectators.
"Okay boys...you heard the order above..." greeted and Irishman in his forties, probably one of the program heads, as the four teens entered the judges office overlooking the stands. "You're a team now..."
Enrique glanced at Johnny, who was frowning slightly. He smiled.
"Sir Jurgen," said the elderly judge who spoke to the audience earlier. "I'd like you to lead this team, so you are in charge of them..."
Robert nodded curtly.
"We did our preliminaries a bit earlier than the rest of the world." he laughed. "It's because we've been asked to tutor, in a way, the new representatives for Japan."
"Oh..." the German replied mildly. "Sure..." and he rounded on his new team as the judges turned to other matters.
"This is a new set-up..." he told them, throwing an odd look at the huddle of elderly men behind him. "First meeting shall be at my place..."
"Where's that?" Enrique interrupted.
"Go to Germany, say my surname to a random citizen and they'll gladly point you to it..." the purple-haired teen said.
Johnny's eyebrow rose; Oliver said nothing.
"We'll discuss things there..." Robert continued as the judges stopped whispering to stare at them. At the same time, said person turned to them. "May we go sirs?"
"Yes! Yes, perfect!" said a man a bit younger than the elderly judge. "You may go..."
"Let's go eat..." Oliver suggested as the four of them (yes four) filed out the stadium along with fans.
"B-but...we just ate at your restaurant..." Johnny protested as Enrique laughed and Robert smirked.
"I know this adorable little capet—"
"Capet?" Robert frowned.
Oliver pulled out a toothbrush and toothpaste from his coat and brushed his teeth on the spot. Then he went to the washroom to rinse his mouth out.
Johnny wanted to laugh while Enrique just oggled.
"Sorry..." Oliver continued when he returned. "I meant cafe. I know this cafe...let's eat there..."
"What just happened?" Enrique asked Johnny as they set out on the street, since the said cafe was only walking distance.
"That's what Oli does when he says a bad word..." he filled in.
"That was bad?...oh yeah..." Enrique said, realization dawning on him.
"That was like...a French Revolution moment back there..." Robert chuckled darkly.
The four had an enjoyable snack. They got an intro of one another and parted ways with good tidings. (Mainly it was Robert parting from Johnny, Oliver and Enri)
"Hey John, are you going back to Scotland?" Oliver asked as he and the two got in the limo.
The redhead flushed. "I've got plans...I might not go back to Scotland for a while. Robert told us that we'd be meeting in a week right?"
The other two nodded.
"Okay..." Johnny continued. "I've got plans..."
"Hey..." Enrique said suddenly remembering his battle with Spain. "I just remembered something..." he turned to Oliver. "Can people like you crash cars with just one look?"
The frenchie was stunned. "W-what?"
Johnny laughed. "Are you saying Oliver's a geisha or something?"
The green-haired boy shrugged. "Well...let's see." he said and pressed a button to open the sunroof. The three of them emerged out of it.
"There! A Philippine tourist bus!" (padamay!xD) Enrique pointed to the incoming vehicle. Oliver nodded and smiled at the Asian driver who turned his head as the cars crossed paths.
Tires screeched as the bus swerved to avoid slamming into the lamp post. The limo quickly drove away from the scene.
"Bloody hell..." Johnny said in awe. Enrique and Oliver exchanged gleeful looks.
TBCA/N: liked that? we get two weird moments there...more to come...tell me what you think!