As we all know, Deimon requires its third-year students to quit sports at some point (I can't remember when.) This is set at that point, after the World Cup.
Mamori feels a little odd to think of someone else in her position as team manager; still, she imagines it must be even stranger for the team members who have to leave. School is over for the day and she has a little while before she has to go home, so she decides to head for the clubhouse and collect all the belongings she's somehow managed to strew throughout it over the past year. After giving the place a good once-over, she's found everything except her English notebook, which, she finally discovers, is for some reason located under the table against the far wall. She goes down on hands and knees to fish it out, and emerges to find Hiruma standing there, regarding her with interest.
"Were you having fun under there, damn manager?" he inquires, grinning.
"What kind of fun could I possibly be having under a table?" Mamori retorts. "And don't call me that. I'm not the manager anymore anyway."
"Hm, you're right," Hiruma says. "I guess I'll have to come up with a new nickname. Damn cream puff sneaker might work…"
"What?" Mamori yelps. "Don't you dare!"
"Damn cream puff sneaker it is, then,' Hiruma snickers.
Mamori gives him her most ferocious glare, and whether it's purely an irrational impulse, or frustrated latent desire, or just the overwhelming need to wipe that infuriating grin off his face, she tosses the notebook on the table with the rest of her stuff, grabs Hiruma by the shoulders, shoves him up against the wall, and kisses him hard on the mouth. The lone cell in her brain that hasn't gone numb with shock at what she's doing points out that this might just all be about to backfire on her because Hiruma's now got his arms around her waist and is kissing her back. Quite expertly.
…oh my...
Mamori breaks away from the kiss and tries to pull back, but Hiruma isn't loosening his grip on her.
"What do you know," he says, " a member of the disciplinary committee assaulting members of the student body." The corner of his mouth turns up. "But you know, you're right. Damn cream puff sneaker is not the name for you." The grin is back in full force. "Damn girlfriend."
With her face feeling as if it's about to spontaneously combust, Mamori leaps away and starts snatching up her things off the table.
"Don't just call me your girlfriend like that," she says. "You haven't even asked…" Mamori's words trail off as she realizes that Hiruma has just marched out of the clubhouse without bothering to listen.
"You jerk!" she yells after him. "Don't just walk away!" There's no response.
Mamori steams quietly, remembering the devilish glee on Hiruma's face when he made the crack about her "assaulting" him. Then her traitorous memory slides back further, to his mouth on hers…
Mamori sets her things back down and leans against the table, hands covering her flaming cheeks. Involuntarily, she finds herself smiling a little.
…girlfriend…
fin
A/N This is my second attempt at writing romance, the first being Mistletoe which was rather tamer. I hope this wasn't too OOC or anything---I'm not too sure about it.