A/N- hey hey people! I wrote this while i was in yorkshire (A lil before i went) and it's and Oliver/Enrique fic... meaning YAOI! At the moment, it's a one-shot, but i will extend it so it will be a two-shot soon... Hope u like it!
"Sir, Master Giancarlo has arrived. Would you like me to send him up?"
Oliver looked up from his book. "Yes please."
His butler went back out and Oliver returned to his book. He had been expecting Enrique for a while, but the blonde was normally late, anyways.
The reason for Enrique coming to Oliver's house? Well, Oliver thought it would be nice if all The Majestics got together for a sort of reunion, since they were good friends and all…
"Hey Oli." A voice broke him away from his book again.
"Oh, hello Enrique. How have you been?" Oliver asked, putting his book down and patting the space next to him on his bed. Enrique walked over and sat.
"Not bad. Broke up with Suzie."
'Suzie? Who's Suzie?' Oliver thought, wondering if it was the blonde or the red head.
"Oh."
Now he was wondering whether to be sad for him, or smug or angry…
"It doesn't matter though. We fizzled out, so I let her go." Enrique answered his unspoken question.
"Oh ok." Oliver beamed at the blonde. "Just as long as you're happy."
"I am. So how have you been?"
"Same, except I didn't break up with anyone." Enrique rolled his eyes. "But father gave me another talk on the restaurant."
"Oh. You know, you're welcome to run away and come stay with me if you want." Enrique said, his statement between a joke and an offer.
Oliver giggled. "No. It's ok. It would upset my father if I ran away, and plus I'd miss Paris."
"I suppose. Do you think Johnny will turn up?"
"Not sure." Oliver replied, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "He might. For revengeful reasons."
Enrique clapped his hands together, startling Oliver slightly.
"So, what're we going to do today? It's only midday and I can't sit around all day. Show me the French chicks!"
Oliver sighed and followed Enrique out of his room.
They walked along the River Seine, admiring its beauty… or rather the Oliver was; Enrique was admiring the beauty of the Parisian girls.
They were planning to meet Robert and Johnny in about five minutes, back at his house. The two friends had walked around for about half an hour, chatting and…ahem…sightseeing…
"Man, I never knew French girls could be soooo cute!" Enrique exclaimed as they walked up the steps of Oliver's mansion.
Oliver laughed. "Then you should visit more, Enrique!"
"Finally…"
"Oh, hi Johnny."
"It is good to see you Oliver. Enrique." Robert said. He was lounging on the couch in the entrance hall, Johnny leaning against the banister of the grand staircase.
"Hello Robert." Oliver greeted politely, but could say no more, since his butler walked in.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but master Oliver, you are needed at the restaurant." He said.
Oliver sighed and nodded. "I guess I should go." He turned to his friends. "I am sorry but urgent business has cropped up."
"Nah, doesn't matter Oli. We can wait." Enrique said.
"You only say that so you can go flirt with French girls." Johnny muttered, ignoring the glare from the Italian teen.
"Well, see you later." He said sadly, turning on his heel and walking out, his long coat trailing behind him.
"Poor Oli." Enrique said, flopping down on the couch beside Robert.
"What do you mean?" asked Johnny.
"Well, when I came to his house earlier, he told me that he'd had these talks about the restaurants and stuff and he sounded really sad." Enrique explained. "I guess he doesn't want to take over from his father." (A/N- I'm making it so that the Majestics don't know that Oli doesn't want to take over)
"But Oliver loves cooking!" Johnny exclaimed. "Why wouldn't he want to take over?"
Enrique shrugged. "I don't know! I haven't seen him for over a year. Not since the Bladebreakers won the championships in Russia."
"A year? My, that is long." Robert said, arms crossed across his chest.
"Anything could've happened between that time…"
"What?" Enrique asked the red head.
"Well, there could've been a death in the family, loss in money, art museum being robbed…"
"Listen, I know you're being sarcastic about the last thing, but why would Oliver be upset about a random art museum being robbed?" Enrique asked, and Johnny shrugged.
"Doesn't matter." Robert sighed. "We must find out what is wrong with Oliver. Even if it is something small, we have to uncover what is happening."
"Now, Oliver. Are you listening to me?"
Oliver sighed and blew a stray strand of green hair out of his face.
"Yes, I am, father."
"Good, because I don't want to have to baby-sit you when you take over." His father said in a warning tone.
"You won't have to, because I will." Said a voice that Oliver knew only too well.
He looked up suddenly to see Enrique.
"I can take care of myself." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. To his father he seemed moody and annoyed with his friend, but the Italian knew better; Oliver's purple eyes told him so (A/N- I think they're purple…).
"Well, sorry!" Enrique replied, putting on a mock hurt face. Oliver managed to swallow his laughter at the blonde Italian, whom looked adorable with his expression.
"Oliver… maybe you should take this outside." Oliver's father said, as if a fight was going to happen. "I'll either see you tonight or tomorrow."
Oliver got up and walked past Enrique in a 'mood'. Enrique followed him casually. When outside and out of range of the elder Frenchman, Oliver embraced Enrique in a hug.
"Thank you!" He exclaimed, smushing his cheek against Enrique's. Said Italian laughed and hugged back.
"S'ok Oli." He chuckled. "It's just you looked so bored and depressed in there, as if you were wishing the ground would swallow you up whole! I had to rescue you!"
"Hehe." Oliver laughed, letting go of Enrique. "Now you are a knight in shining armour!"
A small- well actually- large part of Enrique was disappointed. He had loved being close to Oliver, though he didn't know why.
'Probably brotherly, sibling-y thingy.' He mused.
"So where're Johnny and Robert?" Oliver asked as they set off along the path in the park.
"Actually, I don't know." Enrique said truthfully. "Oh wait! Now I do!"
Oliver rolled his eyes.
'Typical Enrique…'"Some group of brats insulted us and they went to teach them a lesson, or something like that." Enrique explained with a shrug. "I decided to come get you. I don't really care what they call me."
"Yes. It's what you think of yourself that matters." Oliver added, with a smile. Enrique smiled back.
"So what shall we do today?" Enrique asked. "And you'll notice I said 'we', so that means us two. Together."
"I'm not sure. I didn't really think about what we'd all do apart from talking and blading, so-"
"So let's do that! We'll talk for a bit… catch up… and then battle, which of course, I will win."
"You're on."
"Remember that time when Tyson and Max thought we were kidnapping them? We had to teach them a lesson and-"
"And we decided to teach them at some abandoned building in Russia!" Oliver finished. (A/N- I think it was Russia…)
They laughed. Seated on Oliver's king sized bed, Oliver lay with his head in Enrique's lap, said Italian running his fingers through his silky, green hair.
Oliver sighed. "I thought I'd forgotten how to laugh properly. I should've had you over earlier."
"Yeah, I'm hurt you didn't invite me over sooner." Enrique pouted.
Oliver retaliated by hitting the Italian squarely on the face with a pillow. Enrique fell back, but quickly grabbed a pillow himself and hitting the French boy back. The pillow fight carried on, with them running round the room, climbing on the bed, both not sure who was winning or losing… just having fun. White feathers soon fell, coating the bed and floor thinly in a white, fluffy layer. They collapsed on the bed after about 10 minutes fighting, lying next to each other. Oliver stared at the canopy of his bed, while Enrique lay on his side, hand holding his head up, looking at the petite teen.
Oliver sighed. "That was… fun."
"Yeah. Was." Enrique said, out of breath.
"Can you only say two words?" Oliver giggled, closing his eyes. A thought struck him like a bolt of lightening and he opened his eyes again, scanning the room. "Wonder what Johnny and Robert are going to say about this."
"Nah, they won't care. Just wonder why we played such a childish game."
"But it isn't childish." Oliver huffed. "Just because we played a fun game, doesn't make it childish… but they'll call it childish anyway."
"Yeah."
Oliver rolled over and faced Enrique. He suddenly giggled and reached forward, pulling out a small, white feather out of the blonde's hair. Enrique laughed as well as Oliver blew it away, watching the object float around…
Soft breathing was all Enrique could hear, if you exclude his own natural way of staying alive. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the pitch-blackness of the once bright room.
He didn't realise he'd fallen asleep… come to think of it… when had he fallen asleep?
He shifted slightly, the soft mattress moving under his weight, giving a small squeak that made him freeze, careful of the French boy that he was sure was there. A small sniff and a sigh confirm his beliefs of the whereabouts of his friend.
He looked over his shoulder and out the window, trying to look for the moon or stars but found nothing, but could trace outlines of clouds. He gave a small sigh himself and looked back at Oliver, whom he could see now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness; though he could only see where he was.
Sliding carefully off the bed, he hung his feet over the side and opened Oliver's bedside cupboard, grabbing a small portable lamp. Turning it onto the highest setting he could risk, he set it down on the floor in front of the bed, so the light would mostly spread away from the other teen and him.
He sat back down on the other side, next to Oliver and gave a quiet sigh. He reached forward and brushed a few strands away from his friends face.
'Oli looks so peaceful… wait, scrap that… he's always peaceful…he's just even calmer while asleep...'
His hand accidentally brushed against his cheek, feeling the silk-like skin beneath his fingers. He brought his hand back, but not fast enough, since Oliver woke up with normal waking-up noises.
"Uh? Enrique? What happened?" Oliver asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.
"Uh…" Enrique began, the bridge of his nose crimson; he was sure his cheeks would follow. "I guess we fell asleep."
'Nice save! Go Enri! Go Enri! It's your birthday!'"Oh, ok." Oliver beamed sleepily, obviously not having noticed his friend's new choice in colour. "Gosh, I think we've thrown off out internal compasses."
Enrique scratched his head. "What?"
"Well, if we stay up now, we'll be sleepy in the morning, we'll go to bed, and wake up evening and the whole thing continues."
"I see what you mean. Though I'm not sure what time it is…"
Oliver giggled. "Doesn't matter. Let's go down. We can always find something to do to make us sleepy again…"
As Oliver got up and straightened his clothes, Enrique breathed a sigh of relief, wiping his brow. Then he spotted something white in Oliver's short, green hair (Which he hadn't actually seen before, since he always wore that beret).
"Oli, wait up. You've got something in your hair." Enrique said, walking over. He stood in front of him and pulled the incriminating white feather out of the boy's hair. "Déjà vu."
"Déjà vu…" Oliver murmured.
Then, without the two fully realising it, their lips were touching in a sweet and tender kiss. Nothing fancy, nor 'frenchy', just quick and chaste. Pulling back, Enrique's heart was hammering against his chest, him (and Oliver) having just realised what they had done.
"I… uh… see you in a minute, Oliver. I gotta… nature calls…" Enrique stuttered, running out the door.
Running into his room, Enrique slammed the door shut and leant against it, sliding down the ancient oak with a sigh. What had happened?
"Jesus…Christ…" He breathed, closing his eyes.
He walked to his little en-suite bathroom and looked in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. After composing himself, he walked out of his room and made his way downstairs…
------With Oliver------
"I… uh… see you in a minute, Oliver. I gotta… nature calls…" Enrique stuttered, running out the door.
Oliver blinked stupidly.
'What just happened?' he asked himself.
Shaking his head, he walked back over to the feather covered bed and grabbed his beret off the bedside table. Putting it on his head, he walked downstairs, treading nimbly down the lit corridors to the living room. He heard talking and a little bit of laughter.
"Oliver! Where've you been? We thought you were out!" Johnny exclaimed when Oliver appeared.
He and Robert were once again lounging on the couches (though Robert more gentlemen-like!).
Oliver shrugged. "When Enrique and I got back we were both tired, so we went back to our rooms."
"Well, there's no harm in that." Robert noted. "Though you'll be awake at the most awful times."
"That's what Oli said." A voice said from up the stairs.
"Gee, everyone's awake now! Hooray!" Johnny exclaimed, voice heaving with sarcasm.
"Johnny, stop it." Robert ordered, giving the Scottish boy a glare. "You got your 'revenge', now give it a rest."
"But I'm bored."
"You're always bored, mon ami." Oliver sighed. "But if you want, I'll battle you."
"Finally! A good opponent!" Johnny huffed, and he leapt up, grabbing his blade and following Oliver outside. Robert and Enrique followed.
------------(Soz, I'm jumpin' about, I know)-----------------
"Nice match, Oli. But next time it won't end in a tie and I'll win." Johnny said, stifling a yawn. "But now I need to catch some Z's."
"I have to say the same for me." Robert added. "Though I can guess you two don't."
He gestured to Oliver and Enrique, who nodded.
"Ah well. At least we don't have to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight." Johnny snickered and Robert chuckled.
"Well, we shall see you two tomorrow. Sleep well." Robert bid them goodbye and he and Johnny walked back inside.
An uncomfortable silence shrouded the two teens.
"Listen Oli." Enrique began. "I'm really sorry about… you know… earlier… I don't know what happened. But can we still be friends and forget about it?"
Oliver smiled. "Sure."
"Great!"
"But…" Oliver said, and Enrique frowned.
'Is Oliver… smirking? He never smirks… let alone evilly… oh lord…'"What?" Enrique asked, fearing the worst. "You aren't going to tell the girls? Or Johnny and Robert?"
"Nope. I just thought. If you've kissed loads of girls… then how come that kiss was a load of pig swill?"
"What!"
Oliver giggled and ran away.
"Oh, no you don't, mister. You come back here!" Enrique yelled, but the green-haired teen did not obey. "Fine, but you're dead when I find you!"
Enrique set off at a run after Oliver, following the laughter. He then found himself in front of a huge hedge.
'Just great. A maze. Why did he have to run in there? Wait no, scrap that… why did he have to build one?'
He shook his head and ran in, knowing that he would get lost inside and Oliver wouldn't; the French boy probably knew every twist and turn off by heart. He took a left, a right, another right and a right again; as you can tell, he didn't have the foggiest idea where he was going.
After a around five minutes, while he was leaning against a sturdy hedge, he heard giggling again so immediately stood straight and ran in the direction. He caught sight of a blue blur whipping around the corner and figured it was Oliver's long coat, which he favoured very much.
'Gotcha.'
"Oli! You're so dead when I catch you!" he repeated at a steady level, so not to let Oliver know he was out of breath already.
"Really, Enrique?" Came the taunting reply. "First you kiss me, then you kill me… do you do this to all your girlfriends? I've heard of kiss and tell, but kiss and kill…?"
'There you are…'
Leaping forward, he caught the French boy off guard as he rounded the corner and jumped on him. Oliver landed on his back, Enrique on top and straddling his hips, grinning.
"Now, how to do this…" Enrique fake pondered.
"You're heavy."
"Gee, thanks." Enrique replied, putting his hands either side of Oliver's head, to take most of his weight of the French boy.
"So, how am I going to die, then?" Oliver asked. "Death by drowning… death by stoning… guillotine…"
"Ew! Not the guillotine! I hate that thing! All the blood…!"
Oliver giggled at Enrique's expression.
"Typical Enrique…" He murmured.
"Anyway…" An evil smirk appeared on Enrique's face. "What did you say before you ran?"
"How come that kiss was a load of pig swill?" Oliver repeated, also smirking.
"Because it wasn't planned. And also because… I've never kissed a boy before."
"I would've thought that, since you're a playboy." Oliver replied quietly, because of Enrique's last statement.
"A what? Is that what people call me?" Enrique put another mock hurt face on again. "I'm hurt."
"Well, it's true."
"Yeah, I suppose… but to more serious matters… so, you think I'm a rubbish kisser?"
"Yep."
"I'm hurt again, but how do you know, if I've only pecked you on the lips once?"
Oliver shrugged. He then noticed that Enrique was leaning forward, until his lips were hovering right over Oliver's, his hot breath on his cheeks.
"Well… let me prove it to you then…"
He fully pressed his lips on the French boy's own, not giving him a way out. Oliver began to kiss back, both forgetting who they were kissing… (Or had they?)
Enrique pulled away slowly and looked at Oliver.
"Friends?" He whispered gently.
Oliver smiled back. "Friends."
A/N- ya, odd ending, I know, but all will be clear when I next update. Which might not be that soon, because I'm a naughty girl and have not completed all mah other fics… hehe, oh well… Review please!