Title: Coffee to Go
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Character Pairings: Hiruma/Mamori/Musashi
Genre: Romance/Drama/Humor
Rating: T
Warnings: Hiruma's Infamous Vulgarity
Disclaimers: I own nothing Eyeshield 21 and I don't own these themes.
Summary: 100 themes on the Hiruma/Mamori/Musashi triangle for the livejournal community dedicated to it, "coffee_for_3".

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: My favorite love-triangle outside of Trigun's Knives/Rem/Vash and Transformers' Ironhide/Annabelle/Barricade. And not to rag on anyone or suggest that I can write better than anyone else, but I don't really like any of the H/M/M pieces I've read so far because no one ever goes into why Mamori would want either of them or both, making the triangle feel flat and boring . . . so I'm going to attempt to go in-depth with them myself. Also, everyone thinks that just because it's a threesome, Hiruma and Musashi have to be bisexual, so that everybody kisses everybody. I personally prefer if they're rivals for her affections, so that's how this is going to go. Rating will eventually go up in future themes for sexual situations.

Theme XC: Triangle

It was wrong.

The simple statement had been haunting her mind like an agitated ghost ever since she came to the one idea that would solve her current dilemma without hurting anyone's feelings. Her current dilemma had been like a sucker punch to her morals and ethics and her kind heart, but most importantly: her reputation.

She wasn't being vain or selfish. She wasn't!

All right, perhaps she was. She was practically dragging the two along, basking in their attentions without really hinting who she was more interested in. But there was a reason for that.

She liked them both.

She liked them both a lot.

And there just wasn't any way she could choose one over the other. If they didn't want to run with her simple but scandalous idea (and she was very sure they wouldn't), then she would have no choice but . . . to choose neither.

After all, taking one over the other would be like owning an AK-47 Assault Rifle and not any ammo . . . or it would be like wearing a tool belt without any tools . . . or even worse: it would like a creampuff without any cream.

The two complemented one another's differences perfectly, fitting together like two puzzle pieces.

On one hand, she had a mature man with strong work ethics and great responsibilities he took care of without hesitation. His loyalty to his father, his future construction business, and the team clearly ran deep, and she was awed by his effortless ability to balance all three on his shoulders without cracking under the pressure. And despite his size and weight in hard, tanned muscles, sculpted from being a hard-working carpenter, he was surprisingly gentle whenever he embraced her or latched her to his side by dropping a heavy arm around her delicate shoulders. As well as despite his usual nonchalant and calm attitude, he was unexpectedly very perceptive of her moods and needs, seeming to know exactly what to say and do to keep her smiling and cheerful.

On the other hand, she had a man who was devious and lawless and always on the move, always needing to achieve newer and higher goals. He was a free spirit - no one could cage him; no one could tame him. He was born to be wild and out of control. His sense of morality was as unorthodox as his appearance and behavior, and his personality was as vulgar and crude as the words that fell seamlessly from his lips. But he was genius. And she admired that, just as she did his stamina and unflinching optimism (as violent and crazy as it was) when it came to him chasing his goals. And while she firmly disapproved of the methods he used to acquire his objectives quicker, such as blackmail and spying and arsenal intimidation, she knew, begrudgingly so, that she also admired him for that as well, being that it took cunning and courage and immense intelligence to pull it all off; he had to know every loophole backwards an forwards, keep a close eye on his enemies, and cover every single one of his bases so that no one would ever turn the tables of extortion and control on him.

Musashi was the one who satisfied her emotional needs and provided an unyielding stableness in everything. Hiruma was the one who inspired her to aim high in her ambitions and to never give up on them.

And together . . . they made the perfect man.

She pursed her lips determinedly as she stalked, stiff-legged and rigid-backed, toward the American Football clubhouse, her hands curled into tight fists and her eyes narrowed as she struggled to hold onto her fading bravado.

She was going to lay down her terms once and for all: It was either both of them or neither of them.

No if's, and's, or but's.