Disclaimer: I don't own Eyeshield 21, I just enjoy reading the manga. This is set somewhere between chapters 33 and 34. Enjoy.

Hey babe, what's your number?

"Hiruma, I need your mobile phone number."

Hiruma looked up from his laptop and raised a lazy brow at his team manager who stood before him, her hand poised over a piece of paper.

"Hmmm?"

Mamori huffed and glared.

"Your mobile phone number, I need it," she repeated slowly, as if to a child.

Hiruma leered, fang-like teeth glinting even in the clubroom's dim light.

"If you want to get to know me better, all you have to do is ask," he drawled. "You don't need to resort to this tactic."

"What are you talking about?" Mamori scowled.

Hiruma's face took on a sympathetic look, his mischievous eyes the only things betraying his glee.

"Of course, I always go Dutch on first dates so don't expect me to fork the bill then."

"What the—"

"Mamori-san…," Monta's mournful voice interrupted the two. They turned to see his teary-eyed face staring at Mamori from the door. "You're going out with Hiruma-san?"

Several gasps emanated from outside the room as the other boys tried to peer inside.

"Mamori and Hiruma are going out?"

"I never thought those two…"

"Fugo?"

"Then again maybe that's why she took the manager post…"

"Mamori is Hiruma's girlfriend? Since when?"

"I AM NOT GOING OUT WITH HIRUMA AND HE IS THE LAST PERSON I WOULD DATE IN THIS WHOLE FUCKING WORLD!"

Mamori wheezed, her face as red as the team's uniform. Eyes stared at her from every corner possible. She particularly noted a pair of large brown eyes just beyond Monta's shoulder.

"Hiruma! Stop twisting things around. Just give me your phone number so I can complete the contact list of team members that I'm making!" she growled, shaking the piece of paper in front of the blond's face.

"Contact list?" Monta echoed.

"Yes!" Mamori nearly yelled, frustration overriding her normally calm demeanor. She faced the others again. "Hiruma didn't put anything on his member registration form or his student registration form either. Devilbats members should at least be able to contact him!"

Silence greeted this declaration before all the boys near the door uttered varying degrees of "Oooh!"

"090-xx∆-111," Hiruma suddenly said, his face blank.

Everyone transferred eyes to him. A pause ensued before Mamori furiously wrote the number down. But, as she put down the last digit, she noticed Hiruma's slow, sleazy grin. Her eyes narrowed as Hiruma stood up and cocked a gun at his teammates.

"The hell you guys doing standing stupidly there for?" the blond roared. "Change! Now!"

The boys hurriedly obeyed with a manic captain right at their tail. Mamori suspiciously stared at the now empty door before whisking out her mobile phone. She punched in the number Hiruma had given her. The phone rang. She held her breath.

"Hishaku Sushi, how may I help you?"

"HIRUMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"