Honest Mistake

Summary: To the question of who kissed who first, it was Mamori. Of course. HiroMamo oneshot

She had kissed him first.

Against all theories and rumors that he had made the first move (some of the more contemptuous ones say that it was probably forced), she had actually been the first. An accident.

A slip of the tongue, if you will.

Anezaki Mamori had kissed Hiruma Yoichi first.

She really didn't mean to. Well, a part of her did, but not like that.

It was three in the morning and Saikyoudai had a match against Oujou University in two days. Hiruma had made it clear to the team that losing was not an option. Mamori, though not as vocal as Hiruma, shared his sentiment and was willing to go through great lengths to make sure their team won. Even stay at school at an ungodly hour.

Mamori's eyes were stinging. Every character that she read made her eyelids droop ever so slightly. After a few more minutes of reading, Mamori caught herself nodding off. Her head lolled and she straightened, embarrassed that she was falling asleep. She glanced across the room where Hiruma sat at his desk.

As usual, the blonde quarterback was furiously typing. Mamori was relieved that he didn't seem to notice her falling asleep. He would have made some sort of snide remark if he had caught her.

Instead of tuning back to her reports, she continued to watch Hiruma. She hadn't realized just how quiet the room was. The only sounds were his typing and a low hum of the air conditioning. Still, it was comfortable.

Mamori focused on Hiruma's eyes. How did he always look so awake, even at three in the morning?

"What?"

She jumped. He didn't even stop typing when he spoke. For a moment, Mamori thought that she had imagined it.

"What?" Hiruma asked again, still not looking away from his screen.

"Oh!" Mamori's ears began to heat up. "Sorry, I was, um, spacing out," she finished lamely.

"I can tell," Hiruma replied with a pop of his gum. Mamori didn't even know when he began to chew that piece. "I didn't know that you were a fan of slacking, damn manager."

Mamori puffed out her cheeks. "I am not slacking."

"Just falling asleep then?"

Her cheeks flared up. She didn't have any quip to throw back, so she just turned back to the neglected report on her desk. A low cackle only made her blush worse.

"Go home."

Mamori's head whipped back to Hiruma. He hadn't even flinched, still typing away. "What?" she asked quietly.

Hiruma clicked his tongue, clearly unhappy with repeating himself. "I said 'go home'. It's late, and I have no use for you while you're tired."

In a strange way, Mamori found his words… endearing? Huh. That's not a word that came to mind often when she was with the demonic quarterback. Still, it was true. She should go home and sleep in her bed, not pretend like she can get work done when she was about pass out on the nearest stack of papers.

"All right," Mamori said as she stood from her seat, trying not to sound too eager to go. "You have my number if you need anything."

Hiruma responded with a faint hum, and Mamori knew that it was the best that she was going to get.

The manager stretched up her arms and let out a small groan when her back cracked. She began to gather her things and put on her jacket. Her companion continued to type, undeterred and uninterested in her.

When she had everything, she slung her bag full of school supplies and football strategies over her shoulder. Gathering the papers on her desk as neatly as possible, she walked to Hiruma's desk.

"Here are all the complied stats of the Oujou team," she stated, leaning down to place the stack next to Hiruma's laptop.

Humming again, Hiruma glanced at the stack, then back to his laptop screen.

"Are those the new plays we'll be using?" Mamori stayed hunched over, shoulder pressing Hiruma's, and watched him type new strategies.

"It's not much, but we have to manage," Hiruma responded.

Mamori was surprised at just how rough his voice sounded. He may not show it outwardly, but he was probably just as tired as her. She sighed, not moving from her spot. "We haven't had a lot of time to prepare, but I'm confident in our team."

A smirk spread across Hiruma's cheeks. "Of fucking course. We're the best."

Mamori cracked a smile. "Okay, I'm going home. Don't stay up too late."

Hiruma turned, prepared with some snide remark about how she doesn't need to act like his mother, but the words caught in his mouth. After her last comment, Mamori stooped down and planted a kiss on Hiruma's forehead, like it was the most natural thing in the world. For a harsh second, neither of them moved.

In one swift motion, Mamori threw her head back and took several steps backwards. Her hands flew up to her mouth. For a moment, she marveled at the obvious surprise on Huruma's face. It wasn't often that he allowed himself to show his exact emotions on his face; he usually opted for a wild grin that never exposed what he was thinking. Now, he sat in front of her, eyes wide, slack jaw, and utterly speechless. Huh. That's another thing that doesn't happen with Hiruma.

"I'm tired," Mamori blurted out. She took a step toward the door but the clamor of Hiruma standing up made her stop. They watched each other from across the room. Hiruma's surprise was already masked away as usual, much to Mamori's frustration.

"What. The. Fuck?"

"Language," Mamori scolded, fully accepting that her body and mind were just going to do and say things automatically without thought now.

"Don't give me that shit," Hiruma glared.

Oh god, he was pissed wasn't he?

"L-Look, I'm sorry," Mamori hated that she stuttered, "I'm tired and you're tired and I just want to sleep and it's all just an honest mistake so good night."

Mamori couldn't be more articulate if she tried. She turned on her heel and was making a beeline for the exit when Hiruma came barreling at her in the least graceful display of athleticism Mamori had ever seen from him. He caught her by the waist, twisted, and tugged her toward him, hips bumping painfully yet not unpleasantly.

"Hiruma," Mamori scolded, using the same tone as when she was telling him not to shoot at new recruits for the team. She put her hands against his chest, but she sure as hell didn't push.

"Don't give me that shit," he repeated, looking down at her with a scowl that put his sharp teeth on display much closer than Mamori had ever been before.

"Then what do you want me to say?" Mamori snapped. Yeah, she could cover her overwhelming embarrassment with anger. That'll work out just fine.

"Do you like me?"

Mamori blinked. He caught her off guard. She… wasn't expecting him to ask her something so… emotional? Personal?

In all the years they had been together—and, God, it had been years hadn't it?—Hiruma and Mamori had a line drawn between them.

Sure they could stay by each other's side until late at night: no problem. Yes, Hiruma had helped her scare a suitor away when he had become a little too attached to Mamori. Sure, they had dinner together a few times (always incredibly informal and almost certainly the product of stress and just needing to escape for a short while). And yeah, Mamori had been to Hiruma's actual, personal, he-lives-here-regularly apartment on multiple occasions.

But they never asked each other personal questions. They never asked about like or dislikes (beyond simple "what do you like in your omelet?" questions). And they never tried to define their relationship beyond "Captain and Manager".

Never.

So, Mamori stood there, eyes wide and fingertips warm from his body heat.

Hiruma's eyes moved quickly, taking her in like he had when he first met her and assessed how useful she could be to him in the future ("Unbelievably so" was the answer that he didn't know then). "Do you like me?" he asked again, slowly. Carefully. Like he was explaining the final play to an exhausted team—the play that would end the game in their favor. The play that would lead them to victory.

Mamori opened her mouth, and then shut it. She looked into his searching eyes. "Yes," she breathed. She breathed out the word like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was. God, it really was. "I like you," the words tumbled out without a thought. Just sincere truth. Overwhelming truth that Mamori wasn't even surprised to hear.

The final syllable was barely out of her mouth when Hiruma descended onto her. He kissed her gently, yet urgently. As if he didn't want to hurt her yet he desperately needed her. No… not "as if". He needed her.

He pulled back just before he lost all sense because, fuck, he wanted to keep kissing her so bad and the way she kissed him back was completely unfair and mind-numbing and he still needed some clarity and restraint if he was going to be able to stay standing for much longer. He pulled away just enough to stop kissing her but still close enough to feel her lips drag against his as he spoke because he still had enough reason left in his brain to stop but not enough to move away entirely. "Fuck," he whispered, "I've been waiting for this for so fucking long."

He had just never truly felt it until now. What was he doing? Why the fuck did he wait so long?

Mamori's hands snaked up into his hair, tenderly pressing the tips into his scalp. Hiruma thought she was going to say something, like about this sudden change of relationship or something sappy that always came at the end of the romance novels Mamori refused to admit that she read. But she didn't. She just pressed her lips against his again.

So, Mamori kissed Hiruma first, for the record. She had initiated their first kiss, and their relationship.

She had also initiated their third kiss… and fourth… and maybe their sixth, though that one was up for debate according to them.

She initiated a lot of kisses that night.

After guiltily scanning through my Unfinished folder I decided to try and finish at least one today.

For some reason, writing these two is so damn easy and fun. It's cathartic.

Hopefully this will be the beginning of chipping away at my writer's block.

Hope you enjoyed! Cheers~