Harte- Hokay, peoples. this is kinda my first fanfic, well, the first one I've actually written down, anyways, and I'd appreciate pointers, criticism, even outright flames. Yep. Umm... read the story?
Lore- By the way, the author doesn't own Harry Potter or Beyblade. If the author did, then said shows/books/movies would have a whole lot more making out and... stuff...
"Bryan? Can I call you Bryan?"
At his nod, the doctor straightened his coat nervously and continued on,"Well, Bryan, as you know, you were unconscious for quite a while... we, umm, well, we took the liberty-"
Bryan Kuznetsov, former member of the Demolition Boys and owner of the bit-beast Falborg, sat up from the hospital bed and let loose a terrifying glare. Stupid, idiotic, overpaid pansies, the lot of them.
"What. Did. You. Do?" he asked, voice sounding like the growl of the helldog Cerberus himself. Of course, he didn't really think it was all that intimidating, what with his (embarrassingly) thick accent making it sound more like 'Vat dit yoo doo', but apparently, he could still make adults act like chickens. Joy.
The doctor flinched back and, trembling, stammered and stuttered his way through an explanation.
"W-well, you see, a-as a whole, we- the doctors of this facility, u-umm, decided that it would, err, be in your best interest,well, you know what I mea-"
"No, you idiot! I don't know what you mean! You're too busy studdering and mumbling to yourself!"
The doctor recoiled at Bryan's harsh tone.
"What he means to say, Bry, it that, without your permission, they took a sample of your blood and ran it through the new database. You know, the one used for reuniting lost children to their families?"
Bryan's gaze flicked from the doctor to the tall redhead leaning against the door frame.
"Tala. Nice to see you."
"And you, Bry, though it's more like 'nice to see you awake'," Tala said as he pushed himself off the wall. He stretched his arms high above his head and twisted from side to side. Bryan winced at the, admittedly, disgusting sound of his lover's back cracking. What? It was gross!
Suddenly, Tala turned towards him, his face serious.
'Crap...' Bryan thought. 'Freaking bad shit happens whenever Tal gets serious...'
"They got a hit, Bryan."
Bryan's eyes widened.
"No! That... how! I... Tal, what am I going to do?"
Tala sat down on the bed next to him.
"He's seven, Bry. Just turned seven. His birthday's July 31st. There aren't any pictures of him that I can find, and the only thing in the system about him is his birth certificate and the note that both his parents died when he was one. His name is Harte," he said, wrapping and arm around Bryan's shoulders. Bryan leaned into the embrace, accepting Tala's offer of comfort.
"Your his cousin. Your mother was his father's sister."
"I... I don't know what to do, Tal."
Tala looked at him, once again serious.
"You don't have a choice, Bry. You're underage."
"I... no... No! No, любовь(1)! They're not going to take me away again!"
Tala placed his hands on Bryan's shoulders and turned him to face him. (a/n: stupid awkward sentences, with all the him's and he's...) Bryan was shaking. His face and eyes were blank of all emotion, but Tala could feel him trembling.
"It'll only be for a couple of weeks," he continued. "You're almost of age, as is. Besides," he said with a smirk, "do you really believe we'd let you go all by yourself? Dickenson has a property up there that he'll let us borrow, as long as we don't destroy it too bad..."
Bryan snorted, all emotional distress gone in a blink of an eye.
"And how the hell do you think you'll manage that with little Ivan around, hmm?"
"I'm sure we can figure something out..."
"Like tying him up, sticking a piece of duct tape over his mouth, and shoving him in a closet?"
"Oh come on, you lock a kid up in a closet once and no one ever let's it go!"
Bryan laughed and flopped backwards onto the bed.
He glanced over at Tala, who had on his serious (bad shit is goin' down) expression on.
"Take the chance you have. Get to know the kid."
"I will, Tala," Bryan sighed, "I will."
"Just how the hell did you end up in the hospital, anyway?"
Well, first chapter. There ya go. Criticise, complement, or flame all you will. Or you can completely forgo commenting all together, though I have to say that would probably get annoying...
1= Love (maybe)
Anybody know Russian? I'm pretty rusty...