Title: Crush(ed)
Author: anenko
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Rating: PG
Summary: "The thought struck Mamori suddenly, violently: she found Hiruma attractive."
Disclaimer: Eyeshield 21 and related characters are in no way mine.

The thought struck Mamori suddenly, violently: she found Hiruma attractive. Mamori carefully set down her pencil, and clasped her hands atop her pile of paperwork. It took a long time for her hands to stop trembling.

Mamori's heart was not as sensible and strong as she had once believed; it beat faster, harder at the sight of Hiruma. He was long and lean, all strength and speed. His arm carelessly brushed against hers, and Mamori jumped.

Hiruma slanted a long, thoughtful look in Mamori's direction.

Mamori curled her hands into fists around her broom. She wielded it fiercely and freely that day; let her voice rise high and furious and familiar at the sight of Hiruma's pointed grin.

Let us be truthful, Mamori thought: Hiruma is rude, frightening, dangerous. Let us be objective, Mamori thought: He is dedicated, passionate, and not unattractive.

It was not so unusual that a girl should find Hiruma attractive. That Mamori--a member of the Disciplinary Committee, and a dedicated, law-abiding student--should do so was shocking, and a little bit appalling. This was exactly the kind of situation Hiruma would take ruthless advantage of, should he become aware of it.

Mamori had always secretly considered herself beyond such foolishness, but wasn't it true that every young woman was allowed to one unfortunate crush? Girlhood was the time to exorcise one's silly romantic notions of ensnaring a bad boy, of loving him into willing submission.

Yes, Mamori thought, this was a normal part of growing up. Silly and completely inappropriate infatuations were a part of growing up, and didn't mean anything more than this: an attractive young man, an appreciative young woman.

Mamori smiled to herself--her lips a little too tight, her heart beating a little bit too fast--and picked up her pencil.

If only, she thought, if only her heart hadn't been so foolish as to decide on Hiruma.

Sunshine made Hiruma's row of earrings shine. Mamori's eyes moved to trace the angle of his jaw, traveled down the line of his throat.

"Fucking manager," Hiruma growled, "get your head in the game!"

Mamori jumped, blushed. She politely murmured away the team's concern, and reminded herself that even if Hiruma was handsome, she was not a fool.

Mamori had long ago set aside storybooks and fairytales. She was no frail heroine, and she refused to wilt away because of a simple crush on the devil himself.

Mamori brought an extra creampuff to the clubhouse. Hiruma sneered at her as Mamori cheerfully, defiantly ate both of them: one after another, slow and loving, savouring each bite.

"The clubhouse isn't for tea parties, fucking manager," Hiruma said.

Mamori licked her fingers clean.

A crush, Mamori decided, was not as painful as it sounded. She wasn't bowed down under the weight of her affections, and her heart didn't ache day by day, minute by minute. A crush--even on Hiruma--was survivable.

Enjoying Hiruma's presence--while a very peculiar definition of "enjoying"--became almost unremarkable. Mamori nearly forgot that there was a time that she hadn't found Hiruma's ears cute, and stopped flushing every time Hiruma caught her looking in his direction.

Nothing changed, nothing important. He was still Hiruma, she was still Mamori, and football was still the force that drew them together, day after day.

She was happy.

"Tsk," Hiruma said. His book was open, long fingers leafing through well-worn pages. "A member of the Disciplinary Committee lying to her fellow student."

Mamori looked away from her would-be suitor's rapidly retreating back. She had said, quite without thinking: "I'm sorry, I'm already involved with someone."

And Hiruma had heard, was looking at her with wicked eyes full of amusement.

Mamori drew herself up, lifted her chin. "I didn't lie," she said.

Mamori was honest with her emotions, even when she didn't want to be, and Hiruma was no fool. He'd known, and hadn't said anything--hadn't done anything, even with his book open and waiting in his hand.

"Is that so?" Hiruma said, eyebrows arched.

"Yes," Mamori said.

--end