Title: Gunsmoke Signals
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Character Pairings: Hiruma/Mamori
Genre: Romance/Drama/Humor
Rating: T
Warnings: Hiruma's Infamous Vulgarity; Sexual Implications
Disclaimers: I own nothing Eyeshield 21
Summary: LJ's "30 Distractions" challenge on the Hiruma/Mamori pairing.

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: Wow . . . this came out much longer than I had originally thought. Seriously. It just . . . kept going and going.

Distraction I: On the Phone

Ring . . . ring . . . ring . . .

It was a little after eleven at night and she was still doing research on the team they would be going up against in the Christmas Bowl. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, dressed in her loose pink pajama top and pants, her cellphone cradled between her raised shoulder and ear as she shuffled through binders and folders holding datasheets, play strategies, and player information. Her television was going, playing a video on a game against the Teikoku Alexanders.

Ring . . . ring . . . ring . . .

"Oh, c'mon! Pick up," she grumbled. She was about to hung up and try again when she heard the other end suddenly pick up, followed by silence. "Hiruma-kun?"

On the other end there was a sigh of annoyance and then the usual rude greeting. "Fuckin' manager."

"Oh, stop it. I already told you that I was going to check up on you."

A snort. "I'm fuckin' perfectly capable of hanging up, you know."

"Then I'll just keep calling until you answer again," she countered coolly.

"Kekeke, I'll turn my phone off, then. What'll you do next? Use telepathy?"

"Oh, hush!" she snapped, frowning. His cruel sarcasm was so irritating . . .

"Says the idiot manager who called me."

She rolled her eyes, 'hmph'ing and deciding to be the bigger person and not reply. Really, nothing ever good came from arguing with the quarterback.

Other than hearing the steady hum of his oxygen capsule, the line fell silent between them. She picked absently at the corner of a sheet of paper, glancing up every now and then at her television when the referee shouted 'touchdown'.

"Is that it?"

She jolted slightly. "Huh?"

"I said are you done fucking nanny-ing me? I'd like to sleep some time tonight."

Her lips thinned and she felt her hackles rise again as her grip tightened on the phone. "Yes, I'm done 'nanny-ing' you, you jerk. You know, God forbid anyone should care about your well-being, Hiruma! I mean, really! Can't you –"

She was interrupted when she heard a sharp intake of breath, and then a pained grunt.

"Hiruma?" she inquired, worry immediately overtaking her anger. "What's wrong? Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

At first she didn't receive any reply and her worry mounted into fear. She opened her mouth to call for him again when she was cut off once more.

"What?"

His tone sounded incredulous and even slightly indignant. She frowned a little. Did she say something wrong?

"'Are you hurt'? Did you seriously just fuckin' ask me that?"

At that, she immediately realized her mistake. She could feel a blush of embarrassment rise into her cheeks. That did sound kind of dumb . . .

"Well, no. I mean, I didn't mean like that! I . . . ," she trailed off sheepishly. Too late . . . the damage was already done.

Hard laughter. "Am I hurt? Damn manager, my arm is broken!"

"No, I know that!" she said, trying desperately to disengage the thorough mocking and insulting she was about to undergo any second.

"What, suffering a compound fracture doesn't count as 'hurt' in your book, idiot manager? Would you have preferred it if that fuckin' caveman ripped it off?"

"Hiruma, stop it!" she shouted angrily, biting her lip. Why did he have to be so mean to her? Did it really bother him so much that someone cared about his health? "I didn't mean for it to come out that way! Really, it was just . . . a reflexive response."

"A reflexively stupid one. Haven't you ever heard of that damn saying 'Think before you speak'?"

"Argh! I called you to make sure you were doing okay, and now that I know you are I'm just going to leave you alone now. Goodnight, Hiruma-kun."

And with that she hung up abruptly, not even caring if he had planned on saying anything.

She angrily threw the phone down next to her, but the force of it made it bounce off the covers and fall to the floor. She ignored it and busied herself with cleaning up the mess on her bed, stuffing the papers carelessly and roughly in the pocketed folders and binders.

"Stupid Hiruma-kun," she grumbled, gathering up the folders and binders and moving to a corner of her room to stack them up on the floor. "Why do I even bother with him? He's so rude and vulgar and selfish!"

She went around, straightening and tidying up her room a bit, trying to burn off some of her frustration.

"He never cares about anyone else unless they're beneficial to him in some way!" she continued under her breath, switching off her television and extracting the disk from the DVD player. "I would not be surprised at all if someone told me the breaking of his arm was just an act of karma."

Sighing, she switched off her lamp, causing her room to be thrown into complete darkness except for the gentle green glow of her digital alarm clock.

She climbed into bed quietly, feeling more exhausted than before after having dealt with the devilish quarterback. In fact, she always felt tired whenever she was around him. His violent tendencies, loud and obnoxious behavior, and weapon-toting obsession . . . she had to deal with it all when she was in his presence; day in and day out.

"This can't be healthy," she murmured, rolling onto her side and snuggling tighter into the covers.

Bzzzzzt . . . bzzzzzt . . . bzzzzzt . . .

She slowly slide open her eyes, frowning when she saw a glow emitting over the side of her bed. She scooted to the edge and glanced down at the floor.

Her phone.

It was vibrating from a call, its screen glowing a bright blue. And in the middle of the screen read the caller's name:

Hiruma Youichi.

Confused, she reached down and snatched it up, staring at the screen. Why was he calling her?

Part of her was ordering her to leave it alone; do not answer. A second part of her was curious and even worried, demanding that she pick up. And a third, much smaller part of her . . . one she did not like dwelling on . . . was squealing that an attractive guy was calling her; begging that she pick up.

She blushed at the thought, throwing it at the back of her mind. Other than maybe his looks, there was definitely nothing remotely attractive about Hiruma.

Still, it was two against one . . .

She flipped the phone open and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Oi, I called you five fuckin' times, shitty manager. Did you put the damn thing on vibrate?"

She rolled her eyes and settled back into her covers, burying her face into her pillow and sighing, "What do you want, Hiruma-kun?"

"Nothing. I'm bored."

"And I'm tired," she countered, though that was only half true. For some reason, she felt a bit more awake now. She frowned at that.

"Too bad; talk to me. Let's fucking bond."

She choked, eyes widening. "W-What?!"

"Kekeke."

"Hiruma!" He never stopped, did he?

"Aw, fucking chill, manager. Pull that tree out of your ass and have a little fun once in a while."

She scowled. "Thank you, but I don't need advice from a man whose own fun consists of extortion, owning every weapon ever made in the world, and being an overall jerk to people."

She could hear the grin in his voice. "No need to be jealous of my achievements."

She sighed, making sure he heard it. She heard him chuckle in response, and then, like before, other than the machinery hum of his oxygen capsule, the line fell silent.

For a moment she felt her cheeks heat up, realizing that she was talking to a man . . . at night . . . while in bed . . . and it didn't even have anything to do with football. Granted, it was Hiruma . . . but he was still a man!

And the more she thought about it, the hotter her blush became.

Talking to him like this was strangely . . . intimate.

And then he broke the silence.

"So, damn manager . . . ever had phone sex?"

"HIRUMA-KUN!"

OMAKE:

She woke up the next morning feeling wonderfully refreshed and that was odd in itself seeing as Hiruma had continued being a jerk to her before she fell asleep, though because they had at least fallen into a conversation about football, she had tolerated his little barbs a bit more.

She yawned and sat up, stretching her arms above her head and trying to remember the last bit of their conversation.

She moved to get up when her hand bumped into her phone. She blinked, startled to find that it was in bed with her. She picked it up and examined at the screen . . . and then paled.

The call was still going.

She quickly pressed it to her ear and tentatively whispered, ". . . Hiruma-kun . . . ?"

"Mmm? Heh, morning, fucking sleeping beauty."

Her eyes widened. "Oh – oh, my God! Hiruma! Did I – ? Was the phone – !?"

"Kekeke. You did, and it was. Fuckin' all night long."

"Why didn't you hang up?!" she squeaked accusingly, feeling awful and totally embarrassed for falling asleep in the middle of their conversation.

"Your damn snoring was priceless. I just had to record it."

"What!? Hiruma! You – you –!" she cried, too flustered to come up with a proper insult.

His laughter was absolutely evil. "And then you were moaning 'Hiruma! Oh, harder Hiruma! Love me, you great, wonderful man!'"

She gaped, her mouth forming words, but her voice was frozen in mortification.

The only thing she could manage was an exasperated "OH, YOU JERK!" before slapping her phone closed on his laughter.

When her mother had inquired why she was so upset that morning, she gladly told her everything, wanting to vent desperately. It was a wonder that her mother didn't laugh. In fact, out of all the outrageous things she had repeated that Hiruma had said, her mother could only remark to one.

"But honey," her mother said, smiling gently, "you don't snore."