Title: Slave
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Character Pairings: Hiruma/Mamori
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: T
Warnings: Hiruma's Infamous Vulgarity
Disclaimers: I own nothing Eyeshield 21
Summary: What exactly were the terms of the bet that Hiruma and Mamori had made that day in the classroom? And what will be the results of Hiruma having lost that bet?
Recommendation(s): Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.
Author's Note: Based on the "bet" in episode 127, "Just for Victory".
Chapter One: The Bet
"Hiruma-kun, I just told everyone that there wouldn't be any practice today," Mamori announced, smiling as she walked into the deserted classroom except for the football quarterback sitting at the front of the room, typing steadily on his laptop.
"Oh," came his nonchalant response.
She ignored his disinterested tone and walked up behind him. Casually tucking her hands behind her back, she leaned in and peered over his shoulder.
"Is that . . . Oujou's lineup?" she asked, staring at the virtual field on the small screen, red and blue triangles, circles, and squares positioned a certain way along the white yard lines.
He grunted lightly in affirmation as he continued to type, still not looking up as he spoke, "There are still a lot of things to do, even if we are resting physically."
"Ah," she murmured, then turned and sat down in the desk behind him. She crossed her arms across the wooden surface and rested her chin on them, staring at the back of his head and smiling softly. She contented herself with listening to the gentle clicking of the keys and watching the slight flexing of his back muscles under the green uniform jacket as his shoulders moved under his typing.
"You know . . . , " she murmured, still smiling, "you don't need to work so hard all by yourself . . . Even if you stop pretending to be strict, everybody will be okay . . . They won't slack off."
The steady clicking of keys slowly quieted and she glanced up curiously. He leaned back in his seat, snickering.
"What the hell are you talking about, fucking manager?" Suddenly he whipped around, startling her with his demonic smile. "How about betting on whether they'll go to the activity room?"
"W-What?" she said, blinking as he started chuckling, sounding like a jackal.
"You heard me," he said with a smirk, closing his laptop and standing up. "Let's see just how 'loyal' and 'devoted' you say they are. I'm betting that they won't show up."
"A-a bet . . . ? What happens . . . if I lose?" she asked, and immediately regretted it. She mentally kicked herself a dozen times, watching Hiruma's face take on a look of evil delight. She basically just agreed to the bet.
She sat back in her seat when he braced a large, slender hand on the surface of her desk, resting the other on his lip as he leaned down, towering over her, his grin mischievous and his green eyes piercing her blue ones.
"If I win, you'll be my slave for the whole week," he replied simply, but the devious look he was giving her told her that it wasn't going to be as 'simple' as he made it sound.
"Fine," she stated, narrowing her eyes determinedly, standing up as well. She rested her hands on her hips, smiling up at the tall quarterback. "But if I win, you'll be my slave for the week."
Hiruma's grin couldn't have possibly stretched any wider, but it did. He crowded in close, conquering her personal space as he smirked down at her. She refused to back down, though the nearness of his body made her self-awareness increase and she had to fight to keep a soft blush from surfacing.
"Good. But you should probably know," he drawled, bringing his face close to hers, "my slaves are mindlessly obedient. They also don't complain, nag, bitch, or oppose me. If they do . . . their darkest little secrets . . . stop being secrets."
She lost her battle against the blush, her cheeks now burning as she stared into his eyes, his black lashes impossibly long, making those emerald-green slits unholy beautiful. Her face burned hotter when that realization crossed her mind.
"That's fine," she ground out, desperately trying to hold her ground when all she wanted to do was push him away; to put some distance between their bodies again. He was so close that she could actually feel the heat radiating off his body and notice the scent of warm cinnamon from his gum on his breath.
"That's fine," she repeated, firmly taking hold of her resolve and straightening her shoulders and even dared herself to invade his personal space, the distance between them squeezed even tighter. The action caused him to lift one of his eyebrows, but he kept smirking as she continued with a small smirk of her own, "But my slaves are not violent, do not blackmail people, and do not carry any weapons of any kind on their person."
At that, she saw, with smug satisfaction, the devilish mirth fade from his eyes.
"Also," she continued, leaning in boldly as a frown started to turn down his mouth, "my slaves do not yell, curse, insult people, or say offensive things . . . in fact, they don't say anything at all! My slaves are completely mute."
She was enjoying herself immensely. She could see the steady increase of irritation crossing his face. She grinned. "And . . . they're just as obedient as your slaves. In fact, they enjoy doing any task I give them, no matter how small, stupid or . . . degrading they might be. If they don't obey my every command, they'll be shown to the public as being a coward, untrustworthy, a liar, and someone who can't hold their end of a bet they started."
The blond, lanky quarterback glared down at her. She could see, with delight, the unease creeping into his narrowed eyes.
But, instead of backing out, he stuck out a hand, smirking again. "You got yourself a fucking deal."
With a confident smile, she took it and gave it a firm shake.
"Heh," Hiruma said, gathering up his laptop and heading toward the door. "I'm going to win this bet, damn manager. Those fucking brats cherish their days off like you would the last creampuff left in the world."
Mamori grinned, following him. "You're wrong, Hiruma. I'm going to win this bet and you're going to see that your team really is dedicated."
