Shiro & Kyle, backdated to Monday evening

[x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com]

Shiro gets help from Kyle. Strange turns of events, isn't it? The two learn more about each other in the process.


"I am going to kill you," Shiro grunted, extending his legs to lift the weights on the press again. This was his first workout session with Kyle, and he already noticed that the kid was going to take this uncharacteristically (in Shiro's perception, at least) seriously. "With fire. Lots of fire."

Kyle grinned, and waved a bottle of Gatorade enticingly in Shiro's direction. He couldn't drink the stuff, but that didn't mean it wasn't good for other people. "Five more and I stop holding this where you can't reach it. And I'll heal from fire." He said confidently. "Or come back and haunt you and still be your disgustingly cheerful workout partner."

"I'll disfigure you." Four. "And when everything grows back." Three. "I'll do it all over again." Two. "And I'll continue . . ." One. "Until I gain no more satisfaction from it." And done. Shiro let his legs fall and waved a hand vaguely in Kyle's direction.

"You'd have to catch me first." Kyle said, pulling the press up so that Shiro could get his legs away from it, and handing the bottle over. "And I'm better at hiding then you are. And since your power smells like burning, it's not like I can't tell when you're coming."

Shiro uncapped the bottle and took a deep drink from it. "This stuff is really disgusting," he said. And then proceeded to chug the rest. "I had to drink this constantly back just before my powers remanifested. I thought I'd had enough to last a lifetime."

Kyle shuddered. "It's blue. Nothing that anyone eats or drinks should be that shade of blue." He'd had Gatorade exactly once after manifesting, and found out almost right away that he couldn't digest the dyes anymore. They went right through him. "Hey, I can bring juice next time." He offered. "But you're gonna have to do more work for it."

"~I will kill you more~," muttered Shiro in Japanese. "So why are you doing this, Kyle? Helping me, that is. Not that I don't appreciate it, because I do, but I do not think that you and I have spoken at all before last week."

"I'm trying for sainthood." Kyle deadpanned. "I heard it takes three miracles, and getting your butt back in shape's one of them." He cracked a grin, and shook his head. "I dunno. I mean, you seemed like you needed it and I have free time, and you're pretty cool when you're not threatening to fry my furry behind into next week." He shrugged. "Just seemed like the thing to do."

Shiro's snort was just a tad derisive. "You are Catholic? I don't believe you. I enjoy your company too much for you to be a Christian."

It was really rude to bark a laugh at Shiro, but Kyle couldn't help it. "Oh GOD no." He protested. "My parents are Jay-double-you's, but I'm not. They frown on things like, you know, birthdays, not going to church, having boyfriends..." He shrugged in an exaggerated fashion. "At least the Catholics have a pope who looks like a Sith lord."

Shiro smirked and tossed the empty Gatorade bottle into the trash. He was pleased to note that he'd recovered enough that he wasn't throwing like a little girl anymore. "Catholics are not so fond of the boyfriends either. That must have been a fun story to tell your parents."

"Except for totally not telling them." Kyle said sheepishly. "Never did, and it's pretty much not an issue anymore." He shrugged, and pointed a thumb at the trashcan. "Nice throw." He said. "So, totally reversing the question, why are you letting me help you? I mean, fair's fair with the questions."

Kyle's answer just made Shiro even more curious about what had appeared to him to be the most functional relationship in the school's history. But he respected the boy enough to let it go for now and answered his question. "Because this is the fastest way to recover," he replied slowly. "I . . . I do not think that this is something that I can do by myself." Acting alone and not trusting other is what got him into this situation in the first place, anyway.

He'd expected something less ... open, Kyle thought. Shiro was just not one of those guys that Kyle could see being open about needing help. It had been why he'd offered the way he did. "And it's better than dropping weights on your feet?" He said. "Because I've done that. It sucks. Totally wrecks the workout and makes it annoying to try to walk around later."

"There's that." Shiro smirked. "And I don't even have a healing factor." He felt he owed Kyle a legitimate explanation for doing this. The trainer/trainee relationship is equivalent to teacher/pupil, he'd decided, so he has the responsibility to be truthful to Kyle. There is giri in this.

"Healing factor or not, man, that shit -hurts-." Kyle pointed down to his left foot, the big toe of which was still a mustard-yellow. "I dropped the minifridge in our suite on my foot trying to move it yesterday, and man, I must have hopped around howling for damn near half a minute."

"That . . . is not a part of you that I really needed to see." Shiro cocked his head to crack his neck and then got back down onto the leg press. "Ready for another go?"