Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning or relating to Bakuten Shoot Beyblade.

Notes: This year, I was only able to write one fic for the wave. I had more ideas but was ultimately unable to carry them out.

Forgive me if nothing makes any sense. My intelligence decided to abandon me for the week.

xxx

“A date?” Boris tilted his head in confusion, not quite understanding the concept of such an ordinary and, to be honest, pointless idea. He scoffed. “What are you? A chick?”

Not affected by his lover’s condescending tone, Yuriy, currently fixing Wolborg’s chipped attack ring, simply shrugged in response. To him, it mattered not is Boris agreed to go out on a proper date with him (though he was, perhaps, admittedly determined to attempt this ‘dating’ thing because Kai spent so much time getting ready for dates with Rei). Who cared about all that sappy shit when your boyfriend – after months of coercing and ‘training’ – finally gives you sex when you want it?

Boris, unaware of his flushed expression and curious demeanor, averted his eyes and asked, somewhat shyly, “Well, what were you planning on doing during this . . . ‘date’?”

“Sex,” Yuriy guessed.

“Is that what people usually do on dates?”

The naiveté fueled Yuriy’s perverse grin, breaking the previously stoic expression as glittering blue eyes stared hungrily at Boris’ body. Images of previous nights of sex filled his mind and demanded his every attention. “Why, yes. Didn’t you know?”

Boris’ stature seemed to relax with relief. “So we’ve had lots of dates before, then.”

“So you gonna go with me?”

“Sure.”

xxx

Saturday morning, Boris picked out clothes that were loose and easy to strip off in the heat of passion. He, however, did not expect to be escorted out of the apartment and into a restaurant he particularly enjoyed.

“What are we doing here?”

“To eat.”

Boris twitched. What was it with people twisting his questions around to make him look stupid? “I meant . . . why are we here and not at home to . . . you know.”

“We’re on a date.”

“But I thought-”

Yuriy grinned like a feral, ravenous animal. “That comes afterwards.”

Boris, tired of the conversation, shrugged, though now he was a little nervous about doing something that he had no prior knowledge of. Without looking at the menu, Boris chose his meal – the usual. The waitress, a young girl who glanced at Yuriy with shy looks, jotted down their orders and quickly scampered away to the back.

“I’m going to kill that bitch,” Yuriy states nonchalantly. Seeing his lover’s inquiring look, he continued, “She kept eyeing you up.”

“What are you talking about? She was totally looking at you the entire time.”

Disgusted, the redhead cleansed his thoughts by romantically laying his palm over Boris’ hand (he remembered Rei saying that he loved to hold hands). He felt strange. His lover’s bony fingers in this non-sexual situation felt all too intimate and everything he and Boris weren’t. Quickly, before Boris could even take notice, Yuriy retracted his hand. The waitress conveniently, at that very moment, placed their drinks on the table before she blushed and shuffled away.

“So what makes this so special?” Boris inquired, taking a sip from his drink. “We go out to eat all the time. Why is tonight considered a ‘date’?”

“Shut up,” Yuriy replied. “You talk too much.”

Rolling his eyes, Boris retaliated, “You don’t know, do you?”

Using his patented captain glare, Yuriy ended that particular topic. He didn’t want to really admit he didn’t know what made a date a date (or, to be more specific, he couldn’t remember the exact definition that Rei had given him about what dates actually were).

Silence stretched between them, the customers outside their private bubble chattering about these and those and clinging silverware against bowls and plates. It drove both of them insane.

Who would have thought that, though they had seen and felt and tasted every single part of each other’s bodies, a single date could make them feel like shy teenagers experiencing first kisses?

“I apologize for the wait.” The waitress returned, plates filled with freshly made food balanced precariously upon her arms and hands. “But please enjoy your-!”

A crash resounded throughout the now deathly quiet restaurant as morbid curiosity raised heads and stopped conversations. The waitress, fear clutching her, slowly got to her feet, her eyes taking in the appearance of a pissed off customer with flaming red hair covered in food.

“I . . . I-I am so sorry!” she exclaimed, near to tears and hysteria. As a gesture of kindness, she took out her handkerchief and made to wipe the food off of Yuriy’s face.

Yuriy, however, slapped her hand away and stomped towards the restroom.

xxx

One free meal coupon and shower later, Yuriy and Boris were out again due to the redhead’s insistence on having a good date. This time, however, they were at the park.

Immediately, the two bladers gravitated towards the dishes, taking out their launchers and blades. They fell into their respective battle stances. Their eyes were locked on to each other, analyzing their strategic plans. A nearby kid, who was, judging by the sparkle in his eyes, apparently in awe of seeing these two famous bladers so close-up, counted down towards the launch.

It was like a programmed routine. Without realizing it, Yuriy and Boris had fought each other again and again, winning some and losing others. Falborg and Wolborg showed no sign of tremendous damage, and the setting sun painted the sky a brilliant shade of gold and pink and violet. It was only when the chatter of children died down when they stopped, breathing sporadically.

In silence, Yuriy and Boris spontaneously walked, side by side, towards a nearby bench. The breeze embraced their sweaty faces and sweaty bodies, reminding them of the gentler side of themselves.

Boris nonchalantly rested his head against Yuriy’s shoulder, his eyes trained on the vibrant hues of the sky.

It felt like happiness.

(Regardless of the fact that his first date consisted of nothing but a ruined dinner and beyblading.)

“Well, besides the fact that I didn’t get to eat and that we did nothing but train, this date really sucked.” Boris got up, stretching and cracking his tense joints. A smug grin graced his lips for a second before strong arms snatched his confidence from behind.

“Whoever said our date was over?” Yuriy whispered provocatively in his sensitive ear. His hand slipped beneath Boris’ shirt, and his teeth tugged at the silver of Boris’ ear cuff. The fatigue from the beybattle quickly dissolved into passion. But for some reason - some strange, unfathomable reason he could not pinpoint – their hearts felt more connected and intimate. It was strange. It was alluring. “I promised you in the restaurant that the good part would come afterwards, didn’t I?”

xxx