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31_days2005-10-07 05:12 pm
mythicbeast.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-10-07 05:12 pm
[Oct 6] [Eyeshield 21] Midnight Rendezvous
Title: Midnight Rendezvous
Day/Theme: October 6: Late Night Betty
Series: Eyeshield 21
Character/Pairing: Hiruma, Mamori
Rating: PG-13 because dayum, Hiruma has a potty mouth.
A/N: Birthday fic (BELATED) for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
memlu sorta. V. SHORT, and I mean V. And not too much what she wanted, either. XD Also warning for gratuitiously interchangeable sports vocabulary because goddamn, all I know about sports I learnt from P.E. classes and it all sort of blurs together after a while. There was going to be stuff about catgut, but I lost my train of thought and deleted it.
Summary: Late-night practices, snark, and racket rivalry. All's fair in love and... tennis? [HiruMamo AU]
Anezaki Mamori liked nothing better than visiting the badminton courts at night, when there was no one around and she could secretly practice what she mentally referred to as her Super Ultimate Cream-Puff Netblaster (and yes, she knew she wasn't very good with names (or drawings), which was why she only called it that in her head and out loud called it a spike, like everyone else), but this particular evening, she wasn't lucky enough to be alone.
Her mouth tightened at the sight of the boys' tennis captain casually loitering in her favorite practice area, snapping his gum nonchalantly and swinging his racket at empty air.
"Hiruma-kun," she acknowledged, her grip tightening on her racket. Her other hand remained loose, if only so that she wouldn't crush the birdie in her grip.
The blonde's eyes flickered over to her briefly and she forced herself not to step back. All he did was snort, though, and continue waving his racket through the air.
"Hiruma-kun," Mamori tried again. "Are you lo--"
"Go 'way, Anezaki," Hiruma interrupted, scowling. "I'm practicing." He waved the racket for emphasis.
"This isn't a tennis court, Hiruma-kun," Mamori pointed out, patiently. "You can't practice here. You don't even have a ball."
There was a moment of silence.
"So fuckin' typical." He scoffed and made as if to turn away.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked sharply, making him pause.
"Badminton," Hiruma enunciated, sneering down at her over the bridge of his obscenely pointy nose, "Is a sport only girls would play."
"Excuse me?" Mamori asked sharply.
Hiruma grinned at her, long and slow and terrible. "Whatcha gonna do? Throw yer fuckin' birdie at me?"
Mamori saw red.
Sometime later, during morning practice, Sena would wonder why Hiruma walked in with a badminton racket jammed over his head and a grin wider than a Cheshire Cat.
Day/Theme: October 6: Late Night Betty
Series: Eyeshield 21
Character/Pairing: Hiruma, Mamori
Rating: PG-13 because dayum, Hiruma has a potty mouth.
A/N: Birthday fic (BELATED) for
memlu sorta. V. SHORT, and I mean V. And not too much what she wanted, either. XD Also warning for gratuitiously interchangeable sports vocabulary because goddamn, all I know about sports I learnt from P.E. classes and it all sort of blurs together after a while. There was going to be stuff about catgut, but I lost my train of thought and deleted it. Summary: Late-night practices, snark, and racket rivalry. All's fair in love and... tennis? [HiruMamo AU]
Anezaki Mamori liked nothing better than visiting the badminton courts at night, when there was no one around and she could secretly practice what she mentally referred to as her Super Ultimate Cream-Puff Netblaster (and yes, she knew she wasn't very good with names (or drawings), which was why she only called it that in her head and out loud called it a spike, like everyone else), but this particular evening, she wasn't lucky enough to be alone.
Her mouth tightened at the sight of the boys' tennis captain casually loitering in her favorite practice area, snapping his gum nonchalantly and swinging his racket at empty air.
"Hiruma-kun," she acknowledged, her grip tightening on her racket. Her other hand remained loose, if only so that she wouldn't crush the birdie in her grip.
The blonde's eyes flickered over to her briefly and she forced herself not to step back. All he did was snort, though, and continue waving his racket through the air.
"Hiruma-kun," Mamori tried again. "Are you lo--"
"Go 'way, Anezaki," Hiruma interrupted, scowling. "I'm practicing." He waved the racket for emphasis.
"This isn't a tennis court, Hiruma-kun," Mamori pointed out, patiently. "You can't practice here. You don't even have a ball."
There was a moment of silence.
"So fuckin' typical." He scoffed and made as if to turn away.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked sharply, making him pause.
"Badminton," Hiruma enunciated, sneering down at her over the bridge of his obscenely pointy nose, "Is a sport only girls would play."
"Excuse me?" Mamori asked sharply.
Hiruma grinned at her, long and slow and terrible. "Whatcha gonna do? Throw yer fuckin' birdie at me?"
Mamori saw red.
Sometime later, during morning practice, Sena would wonder why Hiruma walked in with a badminton racket jammed over his head and a grin wider than a Cheshire Cat.