ISS...ISS...BRIMSLEY

((WARNING!  CUTESY YAOI!  OTHERWISE KNOWN AS SHOUNEN-AI.  HATERS GON' HATE.))

Burgh tapped his head (well, tapped it through the six inches of fluffy brown curls) as he stared at the blank canvas.  Taunting him.  How dare it.

"Leavanny!" The gym leader called out with a sigh, his faithful bug type scuttling over.  "I can't…I can't do it.  I'm having another art block."

Leavanny chattered, annoyed, and smacked his master lightly, then broadened his arms around the gym.

"Look for…inspiration?"

An exasperated nod from Leavanny.

"Ah!  Wonderful idea, my partner.  I'll go and camp out in the forest again!"

Leavanny gave a frustrated sigh as his master went down the stairs.  Oh, he could be soooo…eccentric at times.

He was about to go through the first wall of honey when suddenly—

WHAM!

Someone else collided into the artist.

Turning red, embarrassed, Burgh began to apologize, "Oh, excuse me, I—"

Grimsley?
What in the world was HE doing here?

The Elite seemed as surprised as the Gym Leader, although not as flustered.

"Oh, it's all right.  The fault is mine.  Were you just going out?"

"I…yes…"

Oh my.  Now this was a little awkward.  The honey was causing the two to stick together, torso to torso.

Looking down to hide his crimson blush, the Gym Leader began struggling back, although the honey wouldn't budge.

"Hold on, you're going to tear our clothes.  Don't pull so hard," Grimsley said quietly, with a light chuckle.

"I-I'm so sorry, this hasn't ever happened before—"

"I've always wondered why you insist on honey walls in your Gym."

"It's a unique way to show off my Bug-type theme!" Burgh shot back quickly.

"I wasn't criticizing.  I'm just curious."

The artist blinked, surprised, looking back up at the dark-haired man.

"Oh, I see…well, yes, that's the reason."

"I'll tell you what.  I'll call Clay and have his Palpitoad get us out with some water.  It'd be a little awkward to be walking around in public like this, don't you think?"

Burgh nodded with a strained laugh.

So Grimsley flipped out a small cell phone and made his call.  Burgh found himself staring at the man most of the time, and when he realized this he quickly looked away.  What…why was he…?

It must have been his hair.  Yes, that was the reason.  His hair was simply a work of art in itself, and he admired it.  That's what it was.

"Called him," Grimsley said, flipping his phone shut and stowing it away in his jacket.  "Says he'll be here in thirty minutes."

Burgh swallowed nervously.  Thirty minutes?

"Until then…how about we talk?"

The artist almost laughed in response.  It wasn't as if they could do much else…

Burgh nodded in reply, looking up to the Elite.  How was he not phased at all?  He should have at least been a little flustered…

Grimsley seemed to be waiting for him to start.

"Ah!  Er, so…what brings you to my Gym?"  The artist couldn't bring himself to give eye contact to the man for some strange reason.

The dark-type user seemed a little startled by the question, and answered slowly, "I've been…on a short vacation….By short, I mean a day's worth.  You have no idea how annoying trainers can get if one of us Elites steps out for some fresh air every now and then.  I've just been checking around all of the Gyms to see how everyone's doing.  We Elites haven't seen you Gym Leaders since the New Year's party, isn't that right?"

Burgh nodded slowly.  He hardly remembered any of that particular party, though.

"So?" Grimsley prompted.

The Gym Leader, taken aback, answered quickly, "So, what?"

"Have any trainers beaten you lately?"

"Ah, well…there was that one boy.  Black, I think was his name?" Burgh recalled.  "Had a very strong Tranquill and an Oshawott."

"I see…you know, Burgh," The Elite began with a contemplative sigh.  "I think it's your advice that causes trainers to beat me.  They come in with some strong Scolipede or Leavanny and give me a good run for my money."

"O-oh!" Burgh exclaimed, embarrassed.  "Well, I'm sorry, but Bug Type—"

"Don't apologize," Grimsley chuckled with an exasperated shake of his head.  "I enjoy seeing trainers beat me.  It's a rite of passage for them."

Burgh nodded again, catching the Dark Type user's eyes.  And then…all of his awkward nervousness just went up and melted away.

His eyes were just so…sharp and…icy blue and…wonderful…color…

The Elite blinked now, tilting his head.

"Did you say I had lovely eyes?"

Burgh held his breath, turning scarlet.  Oh dear Arceus.  Did he…did he just say that aloud?

"They'rejustanicecolorisall," He got out in one breath.  "I-I'm an ar-artist.  I-I notice things like th—"

Grimsley had begun to laugh, although it wasn't nervous or mocking.

"I've actually always thought you had nice eyes too.  Green.  Like the forest."

The Gym Leader swallowed, pulling at his scarf a little as he was hot now.

"You-you think?  Thank y-you…"

"And nice hair."

"Wh-what?"  His hair?  Nice?  The artist shook his head furiously.  "No.  No no no.  It's much too thick and curly.  Yours is much nicer."

"I like curly.  It's cute."

Cute.  Cute?  That word…that word broke the bonds.  What did he mean cute?  Why had he chosen that word?  Why--?

Grimsley's finger pushed up against Burgh's lips now and smeared something sticky over them.  Honey?

He pulled it away, although his face got a little closer to the Gym Leader's, giving a tiny smile.

The artist held his breath, wondering if this was actually happening.

"You have something on your face there," Grimsley commented nonchalantly.  Burgh reached up to his cheek, wondering why he hadn't told him sooner, before the Elite leaned in even closer to where he could feel his warm breath on his neck.  "No, I'll get it…"

Grimsley's lips gently pressed onto the other's, and got the sweet taste of honey along with the artist's own taste.  He grinned at how red the young man got, and backed up for a moment.

Burgh felt dizzy and hot, his heart pounding against his ribcage and the room beginning to spin slightly.  He licked the remaining honey off his lips and leaned his head forward to lean on the other man's chest.

"Calm down," The Elite warned, combing his fingers through the man's thick hair.  "Dear Arceus, if I thought you would have reacted like this…I might have rethought a little…" He laughed.  "Ah, Leavanny, hello there," The Dark Type user greeted as the Bug Type walked near and began fanning his master, seeing as he was uncomfortably hot.

"What…why…I…" Burgh muttered incoherently.

"Do you remember that New Years' party I mentioned earlier?  You were a little…drunk…during it, and—"

"D-damn that Wallace, he said it would only be a few shots—"

"Burgh, listen," Grimsley laughed again.  "Well, you see…you came up to me and said you had always had a crush on me.  That you had always looked up to me with respect and thought I was handsome.  And I just thought that was awfully sweet, but you walked—well, staggered—away before I could reply."

"I—oh, Arceus, did I really say that?" Burgh asked, laughing nervously.  "Please tell me no one else heard."

"Pretty much all of the legal Gym Leaders and Elites were out of it.  I don't drink, really," He shrugged.  "But…I thought of that today, and thought I would pay you a visit.  I would really like to get to know you better, Burgh," He whispered, smirking, placing his head against the artist's.

The Gym Leader swallowed, returning a shaky smile.

"I thought Clay was coming soon…?"

"Never called him."