Time seemed to move still. He could feel the milliseconds tick by. He could sense the held breaths of his teammates.

And he could hear his own heart beating in his chest.

No matter how it ended, it was going to end in a broken dream. A fading memory. One he could never hope to re-live.

And in that moment, a fragment of his dream became a reality.

Cheering, the unexpected joy he saw on the faces of his worn teammates. And in seconds, yet, so slowly at the same time, he felt like he didn't have to be himself. That he didn't have to hold it all inside. His fear, his hope, his broken and scattered dreams. Somehow…in that small play for power, he felt is all disappear with the sound of the whistle. They had come so far, and gained so much, yet at the same time, he knew the inevitable outcome.

A tie, broken by a loss. He knew it would come, later then he expected it, but, he knew it was to arrive sometime. Looking at the MVP, he felt that cold part of him harden his body, still his frame and mind. There was no doubt that the American deserved the award, and the contract, but…

The fact remained, his dream was to never become reality.

The after party made him smile, but, it was only half of what he knew it could be. Slowly, he evaded his over joyous teammates, retreating to the darkness of his hotel room. There, he felt all his emotions hit him harder than any lineman might have on the field. Hot scalding tears ran down his face, his nose plugged up with mucus, and his body trembled in his own sorrow.

He would never be a MVP.

He would never play professional American football.

He would always be an average nobody.

The sickenly sweet scent of her. It washed over him like a cloud. Looking up, he sought her comfort, only to find him as alone as he had been but moments before. His eyes scanned the semi-illuminated darkness for her. For anything that could bring her to him.

Panties.

An absurd item of her's to find under the bed, filling the air with her aroma.

Yet, the small clothe brought him a small comfort.

And reminded him of one final desperate dream.

He found her at the party's fringes, lingering outside of the main gathering, but, not quite gone. Pulling her away, he asked her to talk. Eye oh so accusing looked him in the face. An agreement of a short meeting.

Not short.

Long, and drawn out. He had brought her to him room to talk, and talk they did not.

They yelled.

Screamed.

Her anger at his cold affirmation of 'love'. Her sorrow that he couldn't share her 'love'. And his disgust at himself.

For not even being strong enough to say she was wrong.

He loved her.

He loved her in way he didn't think he was capable of.

Anger bore to silence, silence bore to his frustration. And thus, he let it go.

He ripped it from his chest.

He screamed it at her face.

Whispered it into her ear.

His most deepest emotions.

His most deepest fears.

His very existence.

He bore it for her, the only one who could make him feel.

And she grabbed it with both hands, brought it close to her and gave it what it so desperately sought.

Devotion.

Adoration.

Love.

Kisses were laid down on her sweetly scented skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he sought out an unkissed corner of her body, covering it in his own adoration.

Slowly, he covered her body with his own. His devotion.

And then he slowed her his love.

Slow.

Soft.

Almost weak.

Yet…

It grew. It grew until they were burning in his love.

In their love.

They burned so bright, he thought she was all that was left in the world. The memories of his broken and faded dreams were gone.

She was all that remained.

"Hiruma.." Her breathless voice called out his name, and he embraced her in response.

"Please…tell me.." Her voice trembled, and his grip tightened.

"Am I just a fuck toy? Or do you even care?" Her words stung him bitterly.

He couldn't say anything.

Her tears flowed, yet this time, they seemed cold, almost natural.

As he watched her get up, he saw two scenarios flash through his mind.

He made his decision like he did often, on impulse and his success rate.

And in this case, it was a risky game of change.

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her ungracefully back into the bed, into his arms.

"…"

"What?" the question was hot, scarring.

"You're mine. My manager. My assistant. My lover. My girlfriend." He looked at her shocked face.

"But, you're also my fuck toy. " he grinned at. "And I love the fact that I got the best girl."

Pulling her close enough he could feel her breath on his lips, he said what he never been able to say.

"You're mine. For what it's worth…I love you damn it, do I have to say it so you don't forget?" Her eyes filled with warm tears. Tears of her fears broken, and her heart resolved.

"No…" She smiled and wiggled her way out of his grip. "But…It's just…I want to hear it every so often…so you don't forget."

He smiled, softly, unlike his signature devil bat grin. "How could I? With you damn perfect coffee, your perfect plays and record keeping…" He watched her wiggle under the covers, joining him. "…Your perfect ass. Tits, lips, pussy…" He kissed behind her ear, pressing his body again her's.

"And knowing it's all mine? What man wouldn't be in love?" He smiled against her neck as she yelped from the touch of his erection placed against her body.

"…You're a jerk Hiruma." She giggled softly.

"Says the girl who kept telling me to fuck her almost every game via mixed up sign language. " He could almost hear her blush.

Turning around to face him, he watched her hands move in familiar ways. Looking at her eyes, He saw the warmth.

"You sure?" She nooded.

"…This is one of the reasons I love you, hope you know that." She smiled as she spread her legs for him.

"Hiruma…" He looked up before he entered her. "yeah?"

"I love you."

"…Let me you how much I love you, princess."

And once more, he played the devil.

Just like he always had.