Chapter Forty One: Necessities of a Rainy Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Song Playing: various miscellaneous songs right now

Theme 13: Borrow

Mamori knew she should have stayed in bed this morning.

In an uncharacteristic moment of clumsiness she had walked straight into her dresser when she got out of bed. There had been no milk for her cereal; her toast had landed jelly side down on the kitchen floor before she even had the chance to take a bite. The report that she had spent the past week on was left on the counter and her mother was out on errands so she couldn't bring it for her. Finally as she was walking to the clubhouse under the safety of her umbrella, the rain had come suddenly- overpowering the hot sunny morning- she slipped.

Not one of those tiny little slips that you catch yourself right before anything could go too wrong. Oh, no. Her foot completely slid out from under her as she stepped onto a particularly muddy spot of the field. Her legs gave out from beneath her and she didn't even have time to brace herself as she fell hard on her bottom with a loud squish.

Not a thud but a squish.

The manager let out a small shudder as she felt the cold water and gritty mud seep through her skirt and shoes. Picking up her hand she grimaced as she tried shaking of the mud that clung to it.

She really should have stayed in bed.

Hiruma had been busy updating a few things and re-watching some video footage from their last game when he heard the door open. Looking up he was met with the strange sight of his manager, drenched, muddy, and looking like she wanted to hurt something. His eyes followed her form as she stomped to the other half of the room- her shoes making a wet squishing noise with every step- lighting a fire under a kettle of water.

She was rummaging though the cabinets for a mug and some tea bags when he spoke to her with one eyebrow raised. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing." She managed to bite out through chattering teeth as the tea kettle started to whistle.

He popped his gum as his attention went back to his computer. "Nothing doesn't make you look like a drowned rat."

Mamori didn't bother to respond. Instead she shot back the darkest glare she could muster, considering her morning it was quite possibly the meanest look she had ever made. Then she focused her foul mood on the task of pouring the hot water into her cup and ducking the tea bag in it. With slightly shaking hands she raised the cup to her trembling lips and blew on it, attempting to cool it a bit.

There was a moment of silence.

"Take off your clothes."

She nearly dropped her hot cup in her shock. "What?"

He glanced back up at her with a raised eyebrow. "In the locker room. Take them off and put on something else. Something dry. No way in hell are you getting sick right before a game."

"Oh." She let out a relieved sigh. Putting her hot drink down she grabbed a towel from off the shelf.

He observed her a little closer. "What'd you think I was talking about?"

"N-nothing." She stammered out as she ducked into the locker room and slammed the door shut behind her. The click of the lock echoed in the small room.

Hiruma sounded all too amused as he shouted at the closed door. "Never pictured you having such a dirty mind, fucking manager! Guess you aren't as sweet and innocent as you want us to think!"

"Shut up!" There was a slight pause where nothing could be heard but the typing of keys and the loud plop soaked clothing made as they hit the tile. This was followed by the sound of a zipper being opened and the rustling of the her digging through her backpack on the other side of the door. He was still clicking away when she spoke up again. Although this time around she didn't sound angry, more uncertain. Uncertain and hesitant. "Hiruma-kun?

The quarterback didn't even bother to pause his activity. "Yeah?"

There was silence.

A really long silence. Which was unusual cause his manager never hesitated to speak her mind. It was her most useful and annoying quality.

He was considering repeating himself, eyes still on his laptop screen with no sign of looking up, when her voice filtered shyly through the wooden door that separated them.

"Can you pass me a spare set of practice clothes?" But he did stop what he was doing once he heard that. He could actually hear the embarrassment in her voice, could picture how red her face was as she went on to explain. "Mine are soaking, my spare uniform is at home, and I really don't trust you to get my gym clothes out of my locker."

A toothy smug smile was already forming on his face. Leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table.

So many possibilities.

Hiruma didn't make a sound to indicate that he had even heard her request. His mind zipping from one idea to another. Get a tape recorder and have her repeat the obviously distressing plea for future cooperative insurance. Not respond at all and see what she does. Sneak out while she was still stuck in the locker room, break into her locker, and bring her gym clothes just to see how she would react. It was pretty fifty-fifty that she'd chew his ear off while attempting to bash his head in with whatever equipment she had on her and simply snatching the outfit out of his hands while she imploded in her own righteous fury. Of course there was also the option of actually doing what she wanted in the first place. It wasn't like it was any extra strain on his part.

"Hiruma-kun?" Meanwhile a very cold, mostly naked Mamori was still in the locker room feeling like the biggest idiot in the world for undressing without grabbing a practice uniform from the cabinet.

It was taking all the will power she had to prevent her teeth from chattering. Really, all she wanted was a hot drink and a big fluffy blanket straight from the dryer. However, given the circumstances, she'd settle for spare practice clothes and a cup of luke warm tea while she waited for her ride.

She was considering just biting the bullet, putting her soggy clothes back on, and grabbing the clothes herself when the quarterback's voice broke through her considerations. "What's the magic word?"

A shiver that had nothing to do with the weather outside and everything to do with the fact that he was toying with her made its way down her spine. There was no way this was actually happening to her. She strong, independent. She wasn't going to play whatever little mind game he was trying to coax her into. "Hiruma-kun..."

She was also utterly ashamed at how whiny her voice sounded to her own ears.

"What's the magic word?" He knew he had won this round. He not only knew it but he was exploiting it for his own sadistic pleasure. She was half convinced that he had a recording device to capture the exact moment she caved. And, really, if she were honest with herself it was only a matter of time. Freezing, embarrassment, and her generally polite nature were practically screaming at her to get it over with already. After all what was one little battle in the midst of the war? It was about priorities. Right now her priority was to be dry, warm, and not mostly naked.

Still, she had to fight the inevitably a little. If she didn't dig her heels in who would? Plus there was the off chance she might actually be able to pull off a surprise victory here. "Is this really neces-?"

"Dirty minded and rude." He actually had the nerve to sound like she had disappointed him somehow. "I always pegged you as a goody two shoes type. How disinheriting it is to learn otherwise." She wasn't completely convinced that he couldn't hear her grinding her teeth on the other side of the door. "I thought you were all for manners and curiously and crap."

It was a testament to her skills at multi-tasking that she was able to grind her teeth together even as they chattered away noisily. Taking a deep angry breath through her nose, she held it for a few moments before releasing a resigned sigh. "Please?"

She winced even as the word left her mouth.

For a second the only thing she heard was her teeth violently connecting with only another. But then she heard his sharp bark of laughter and it almost had her wishing that her chattering was a little louder so that his amusement would be drowned out. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor reached her ears, followed by the sound of cabinets being opened and closed. Then there was firm rap of his fist connecting with the door.

With a strange mix of reluctance and eagerness, she opened the door just enough to slid a bare arm though it.

Her hand hovered there in mid air. The thought that he had tricked her, that he didn't get the spare clothes and was actually just enjoying her grasping at nothing briefly, flickered through her mind. Then her trembling fingertips met something soft and deciding not wet. She could just picture his smug face when he said, "Now that wasn't so hard was it?"

Her response a flushed face he couldn't see and a slammed door that he could.

It wasn't until a few days later, when she was during laundry, that she stumbled on the fact that he hadn't just given her an extra set of practice clothes. He had given her his personal set of extra practice clothes. The one with his number on the back and everything.

She didn't quite know what to make of that.