Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade.
A/N: Slowly things are starting to fall into place. Enjoy, and feedback is appreciated.
Somehow, in between being pissed at Tala and getting the airport to change his flight he'd managed to forget he didn't actually have a way to get back to Robert's castle. The nearest airport was two hours from the castle and he doubted he would be able to get a taxi to take him all the way out there and he didn't have the credentials necessary to rent a vehicle.
Didn't think that one out. Drawing his hood up he stepped out into the cold air, resisting the urge to elbow the man jammed against his back as a crowd of people swept around him in an attempt to get out of the airport. Slowly the people disappeared into taxis and cars, leaving him alone in the falling snow.
"I must say, I wasn't expecting you to be back so soon."
Turning to face the noble Bryan couldn't keep from smirking. The older teen was wearing a dark wool coat with the faintest hint of a flush coloring his cheeks from the cold. "Do you always pick up your employees at the airport or am I just special?"
The noble rolled his eyes and gestured for Bryan to follow. "The airport had to call me when you made the changes since it was on my credit card. I had business in town and decided to hang around. It wouldn't do to leave you stranded in town, since I'm sure you'd create a ruckus." He glanced at the Russian, a smile tugging at his lips. "And in answer to your other question, you are special."
"You know, for growing up in such a refined household you have an amazing ability to be a bastard without seeming like one." Bryan tossed his bag in the back of the car once Robert had unlocked the door before climbing in.
Robert adjusted the heater on the car, turning it up as he slowly backed out of parking spot. "I learned from Johnny. One of the few things he manages to do with any type of subtlety. Do you need something to eat?"
"No. I had some borscht and caviar before my flight. Needed real food." The pale haired teen shrugged his coat off and tossed it in the back before doing his seatbelt up. Reaching between his legs he adjusted the seat, giving him more room to stretch out. "No offense, but Gretchen can't make good borscht. I know she tried but it wasn't right."
It was late enough in the evening most of the traffic in town was off the streets, making their escape from town all the quicker. Once on the open road with a two hour drive back to the castle Robert applied a little more pressure to the gas pedal then was strictly necessary. Despite the fact it was cold out the roads were dry and clear and there was no good reason to not abuse the powerful engine of the car.
Smirking Bryan settled deeper into his seat and folded his arms across his chest, content to let the older teen play chauffer. "How'd the clean up go?"
Robert's hands tightened on the steering wheel before relaxing. "The matter has been solved. It seems one of the dock managers was stashing cocaine and heroin in my shipping crates to run his own little drug ring. Since I had nothing to do with it the authorities will keep my family out of the newspapers." He glanced at the other teen. "You can sleep. I don't expect you to keep me company."
The Russian laughed, low and smooth. "How kind of you Lord Jurgen."
--
When his phone rang three days later it wasn't really unexpected. He figured it was only a matter of time until Tala tried to contact him, though he wasn't entirely certain how the redhead had gotten his number. Without thinking he flicked it open. "Hello."
"Tala told me."
At the sound of Kai's voice saying those words Bryan felt his heart stop for a moment before it started again. "Of course he did. He's got a big mouth but you figured that one out all by yourself didn't you."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
He got off the bed and started stalking around the room, unable to stay still. For some reason, a chill had settled in his bones and he couldn't shake it off. "Because I didn't realize how I felt until I was sixteen and you'd been gone for nine years. And by the time you came back we didn't really have any time to talk, and some how telling you while preparing for the Worlds seemed like a really bad time."
"Bry, come back to Moscow. We can try to make this happen. We've been friends since we were little. There's no reason we can't work this out." In the all the time he'd known Kai he couldn't quite recall hearing the slate haired teen sounding so…unsure.
"It wouldn't work. I don't like sharing. Kai, do me a favor and tell Tala to stop blabbing all my secrets to the world." Before his friend could answer he ended the call and turned his phone off before tossing it on the bed. Scrubbing a hand over his face he briefly considered going downstairs to find a bottle of vodka. "Fuck Tala and Kai."
With cold precision he slammed his hand into the brick wall, needing to feel. He could pinpoint the exact moment he felt two of the bones in his hand fracture, sending frissons of pain up his arm. His hand was already starting to swell, dark bruises quickly forming, mottling the pale skin. "Fuck." Pushing back the pain as he had been taught in the Abbey he peeled his socks off before leaving the room. As much as he'd rather not get Robert involved in his personal life there wasn't really any other option. The nearest town with a doctor was forty-five minutes away and his hand needed to be casted.
He stopped just outside the partially open office door and leaned back against the wall, hand held protectively against his stomach. The German was on the phone, and if the tone of his voice was any indication he was probably talking to his mother. In his time at the castle he'd never actually met the woman, which he couldn't decide if was good or bad.
Once he heard the telltale click of the handset being placed on the receiver he pushed off the wall, wincing at the jolt of pain it sent up his arm. He stepped into the room, not hiding his smirk when the dark haired teen jumped. "I have a minor problem."
"A candlestick jump into your bag?" Robert pushed away from the desk and got to his feet. He paused at the corner of the desk, eyes narrowing as he looked at his companion. Bryan's mouth was tight with pain and the fingers of one hand looked swollen. "What did you do?"
The Russian ran fingers through his hair, causing the pale strands to stick up. "I broke my hand. And you really do pick the worst times to prove you have a sense of humor."
Shaking his head Robert slipped his shoes back on and picked up the keys resting on the desk. "Part of me is afraid to ask how you broke it." He led the way down the hall and out the main doors to the courtyard.
"I have a tendency to hurt myself when things don't go my way." Bryan nearly walked into Robert, not having expected the older teen to stop at his confession. The noble turned to look at him, brow creased in thought. There was no disgust in the garnet eyes, but something akin to curiosity as if the knight was trying to understand why someone would willingly inflict pain on themselves. "Believe me, I don't get off on hurting myself. The Abbey tried to strip away our free will and I found if I had something else to focus on I didn't fall into their traps."
They stared at each other for several seconds before Robert nodded curtly.
--
Should have left my socks on. He shifted from foot to foot, the pavement cold against his feet. Robert was speaking to the doctor just outside the clinic in a rapid, clipped speech, betraying his feelings. He wasn't sure if the German was actually worried about him or what the doctor thought about being woken at nearly midnight.
Finally, after what seemed like hours the doctor vanished back inside, turning on the lights. Robert's fingers curled around his bicep, a spot of warmth in the cold. "He doesn't speak English, but try to stay civil. The only reason he's doing this is because he is a friend of my mother's, and I'd rather not have to deal with her inquisition as to why Herr Schultzer is calling me an ungrateful whelp."
"I promise I'll try my best not to tarnish your sterling reputation. I'd hate to have your mother come after you." Grinning at the exasperated look the noble gave him he entered the clinic. The doctor was moving around, pulling out what he needed. Noticing Bryan he snapped something, crooking his finger.
Robert settled in a chair in the corner of the room. "He wants to take a couple of X-rays."
Ignoring the dark look the doctor gave him he turned to look at his companion. "You're getting some sick twisted pleasure out of this aren't you?"
"Hardly. A man of nobility must never find amusement in the plight of another." Anyone who didn't know the German would think his words were completely sincere, but after spending nearly three months with the older teen he had learned to read him and could see the humor in his eyes.
Rather then saying anything to the noble Bryan followed the doctor, not wanting to antagonize the older man any further. In his experience, an angry doctor was one who had no problems inflicting pain.
Ten minutes later he was back in the main room on the exam table as he waited for the doctor to come back. Robert was paging through some kind of magazine but wasn't actually reading it. His eyes kept flicking to the door where Herr Schultzer had disappeared and Bryan, as if he was expecting some kind of bad news.
The doctor shuffled back into the room, grumbling as he inspected the X-Ray in his hands. He clipped it to the light board and flicked the switch. Bryan could see all the old fractures in his hand and wrist and could recall almost perfectly how each one had occurred. "What is he saying?"
Robert was on his feet and inspecting the radiograph with the doctor, asking his own questions. When he seemed satisfied with the man's answer he glanced at Bryan. "He was saying it's amazing you can still use your hand after all the damage it has sustained, especially at such a young age. And he wants you to fill out a medical form before he does anything."
"No."
Evidently no was a word the old man understood because he turned around and glared at the Russian before launching into a tirade with some rather foul language if the scandalized look on Robert's face was any indication.
Not one to be outdone by an old cantankerous man Bryan slid off the table and with his good hand caught the hem of his shirt and tugged it up mid chest to reveal his stomach, taut and littered with faint scars. Had he not been so angry at the doctor he would have seen the faint blush that covered Robert's cheeks as he turned away. "Look Herr Schultzer, I'm the fucking healthiest person you're ever going to treat so just cast my hand so I can get the hell out of here and you can go back to bed."
It didn't take an idiot to tell that Robert hadn't translated word for word and there was no doubt in Bryan's mind that the older teen actually prettied his words up but it didn't matter. With a muttered obscenity the man shot him a final dirty look before summoning him to start the casting process.
Twenty minutes later they were out of the clinic, Bryan's hand in a cast, Robert in a bad mood and the doctor cursing a blue streak as he shooed them out and locked the front door. Once in the car Bryan cranked the heat up and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain in his hand.
While they had been trained to block the pain at the Abbey, it wasn't meant to be done for long periods of time. He'd refused the injection of pain drugs the doctor had offered and he had no plans of taking anything. After all the pills and needles he'd endured under the care of the Abbey's doctors had made him wary of those in the medical profession.
"If you don't find it too intrusive, may I ask why you felt the need to break your hand?"
Bryan smiled, eyes closed. Even at one in the morning Robert was worried about violating his privacy. "Kai called and we had a conversation that didn't exactly go the way I wanted it to, so I broke my hand. Nothing really important." He knew the noble didn't believe him but he wasn't going to pry.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Beating a tattoo against his leg with his finger the Russian shook his head. "Not unless you are seriously mentally fucked up and know where to dump a body where the authorities won't find it." Glancing at the noble from under his lashes he could see the shock in garnet eyes even in the darkness. "But I guess in the end it's the thought that counts isn't it?"
--
Eyes half closed, Bryan surveyed the chessboard, looking for a way out of the inevitable trap he'd been caught in. Since the day after he'd broken his hand he and Robert had taken to playing chess on a nightly basis. He knew the older teen saw it as a way to keep him from doing anything else stupid, but he hadn't told Robert he'd caught on. For the most part he failed miserably at the game, but it gave him something else to focus on and oddly enough spending time with noble was actually a pleasant experience.
Rolling his shoulders he took a drink of vodka, the glass cold and sweating in his palm. He was slumped down in his chair, legs stretched out under the table brushing against Robert's with his every movement. Finally giving in he simply pushed a pawn forward. "Who was your first kiss?"
Robert paused in moving his rook, surprise in his features. "Excuse me?"
"I know you heard me. I figured we've talked about Beyblading, the economy; Russian literature and the fact the American team is a bunch of idiots. Never hurts to branch out." He set his glass aside and rubbed at the top of his cast, trying to ignore the itching on his palm.
The German swirled his own glass as he settled back. "As usual, you chose the most interesting way to broach topics. Oliver. We were fifteen and he was thinking he was homosexual. I was the only person around he trusted at the time. Being the oldest they all seem to come to me with such matters. You?"
Bryan pushed another pawn forward, sacrificing it for no reason. "Tala. We grew up together and if it hadn't been him it would have been Ian….and that thought is going to give me nightmares." He could see the shudder that ran through the noble and couldn't help but smirk, knowing Robert found the image has horrifying as he did.
"Siblings?"
Picking up the tumbler Bryan downed the rest of his vodka, the clear liquid burning down his throat. His memories of Il'ya were clearer than of those of Nikita, but Nikita had only been a year old when he'd been sold to Biovolt. "I had two younger sisters, Il'ya and Nikita, but they died nearly eleven years ago." He got up and moved to the sideboard to refill his glass, acutely aware of Robert watching him. It was obvious the older teen wanted to ask what had happened but his manners were holding him back.
"I suppose I would be more upset about what happened to them if I actually remembered more about them, but I was five when my parents sold me to Biovolt and when you're five you don't particularly care about your siblings. Might make me a horrible brother but thirteen years is a long time to try to remember."
Robert simply nodded, eyes drifting from his companion back to the board. He'd been fifteen when his father had been assassinated for opposing a business monopoly that would have cost thousands of people their jobs. Four years later he knew there were things he had forgotten about his father. He couldn't imagine what else would be gone in thirteen years.
"Stop thinking. It isn't going to help anything and thinking after ten causes brain damage." Bryan picked a piece of ice out of the bucket on the sideboard and flicked it at the older teen. They watched as it dropped woefully short of its intended target. "Are you going to pick that up?"
The noble shook his head as he captured one of Bryan's knights with his bishop, adding the horse to his growing pile of black pieces. "One piece of ice melting into the carpet is not worth worrying about. And speaking of brain damage, were you ever dropped on your head as a child?"
Not sure how they had managed to get on the topic of his own life Bryan debated answering the question before deciding there wasn't any harm in telling the truth. "Twice. Once when I was three or so, according to Pyotr and once when I was five by Boris." He could tell the noble didn't believe him. "I'm dead serious. He picked me up when he came to see me for the first time. He was wearing those dorky ass goggle things of his and I freaked out. So I tried to take a chunk out of him. Dumped me on my head for it. Needless to say that first encounter colored all of our interactions after that point."
"I can't say whether or not it actually caused brain damage, but it would explain some things. How did you get Griforion?" He pushed his king forward, ready to end the game.
Plucking Bryan's king from its square and replacing it with his queen Robert sat back. "I inherited him, like every other Jurgen throughout history. At birth Griforion is transferred to the heir, as a mark of pure blood and to protect the Jurgen line."
"Must be nice to have a family that didn't sell you." Getting up with his glass in hand Bryan sketched a short mocking bow. "I've had just enough vodka that my hand doesn't hurt and I know I'm not going to win a game anytime soon so I think I'm going to finish my drink in my room and call it an evening."
--