Eyeshield 21- "Safe Sex"
I didn't end up finishing the bleach_flashfic challenge like I told myself I would, but I wrote THREE MORE SENTENCES on it, which is like, a feat or something, all things considered. I'll just have to be satisfied with that. And this. Even though it is silly.
Title: Safe Sex
Rating: PG-15
Pairing/Character/s: JyuumonjixSena, Mamori
Word Count: 909
Warning/s: OOC, slight pron, CRACK. Stupidity. Lameness. No spoilers though!
Summary: Jyuumonji gets a crash course in sex ed.
Dedication: afire- this should have been porn, but it ended up being crack instead. YOU KNOW ME.
A/N: It’s 2 in the morning. Coherence has left.
Today, Jyuumonji mused to himself ruefully, was not a good day.
It had started out well enough-he’d gotten breakfast, an A on his math test, and made it to the convenience store before the best kind of yakisoba bread had been sold out. He’d met Sena after they’d finished eating, and the two of them had got to fooling around in the abandoned lockeroom for the rest of the lunch break.
So yeah, not a bad start.
But then, right as he’d been making his way into what he liked to call hand-in-pants-happy-land, things started to go downhill.
The door had been opened and an oblivious Anezaki had strolled in (presumably to get ahead in her managerial duties), only to pause in horror at what she was seeing when she entered the small club room.
Jyuumonji supposed she’d gotten an eyeful of a large, very dangerous-looking lineman (and known delinquent-slash-bully) pinning her precious Sena to the wall.
He’d ended up with a shrieked, “Jyuumonji-kun, what are you doing?!” immediately after that, on the heels of which followed a rather fiercely wielded clipboard being slammed against the back of the head.
Sena had sputtered and managed to say about a billion things that weren’t actually words (which hadn’t helped the situation), though Jyuumonji supposed-in retrospect- that her thinking that he was beating the hell out of the runningback was preferable to the truth in the long run after all.
However, the fact that both of their pants were unzipped became startlingly apparent after the blow to the head had toppled him like a house of cards (she hit hard), and after a three-count beat, the raging manager had paused, figured things out (she was a smart one), and promptly turned bright red.
“Oh Sena,” she’d murmured, and had one hand over her mouth in demure shock.
Which, Jyuumonji knew, was a friggin’ lie, because she hit like she had man-hands.
But either way, here they were. Sitting side by side and looking repentant while Mamori paced in front of them, giving Jyuumonji the third degree.
“You’re serious about this?” she asked, sternly, and eyed him suspiciously.
Sena blushed.
Jyuumonji squirmed. “Well…yeah,” he said after a beat, and thought he would die of embarrassment. How uncool.
“You’re not just toying with him? He’s very delicate, you know!”
Sena blinked.
Jyuumonji fought to keep from laughing at that, because they’d done much wilder things than quickies in the lockeroom during lunch and Sena hadn’t broken yet. But, he supposed, the smaller boy probably would like to keep that knowledge between the two of them, and he’d better speak up before Anezaki thought he was being a playboy and hit him again.
So for Sena’s sake (and his own), Jyuumonji did his best to look reputable. “I’ll treat him real nice,” he promised gruffly, cheeks pink.
Sena blushed some more.
Mamori studied him. “Are you two having sex?”
Jyuumonji choked on his own spit.
Sena was mortified.
Mamori sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Neither boy said anything.
“Are you having safe sex?”
Both boys stared.
Mamori studied them both, critically.
They didn’t say anything, and Jyuumonji thought he might actually die of mortification right then and there, under her unwavering gaze and the knowledge that yes, she was evaluating the kind of sex he had with Sena in her head right now.
Jyuumonji waited to be throttled.
But then, after another three count, she simply sighed and turned her clip board over. Pulled out her dry erase marker professionally, and began to write on it.
Right there, on the play board, she drew two stick figures. Having sex. Like she did it every day.
She didn’t even bat an eye.
Which was all bad enough as was, but when she wrote “Sexually Transmitted Diseases” on the top of her illustrations like a freaking banner, Jyuumonji almost fell off the changing bench.
Truth be told, the lineman would have preferred being socked in the face.
“Pay attention, I’m going to give you both a test at the end,” she said sternly, and meant every word of it as she began her lecture.
“H-hai!” Sena agreed by rote, and Jyuumonji promised himself that he would never, ever criticize the smaller boy for being such a wimp around Anezaki-senpai ever again.
Sometime later, when he was dutifully rolling a condom onto a banana after checking it for holes (the condom, not the banana), he made a mental note that from this day forward, all mid-day lunchtime quickies were to be had in the men’s bathroom on the second floor.
Because that way, if anyone walked in on them, there was a high percentage chance that Jyuumonji could just kill them and be done with it.
Which, he thought, would be about seven billion times easier than trying to spell out ‘gonorrhea’ on his quiz sheet in English.
Sena must have been thinking along similar lines, because once they were released (i.e. once both had made perfect 100s on their tests), the small runningback sighed and said, “Next time someone walks in on us, just punch me in the face and take my lunch money, ne?”
And while the thought horrified him, Jyuumonji had to admit-however fleetingly-that had he done that earlier, the results would have been far less painful than what they’d ended up experiencing just now.
He didn’t even want to know where Anezaki had gotten those condoms from.
END
EDITS PLZ I AM SLEEPY.
Title: Safe Sex
Rating: PG-15
Pairing/Character/s: JyuumonjixSena, Mamori
Word Count: 909
Warning/s: OOC, slight pron, CRACK. Stupidity. Lameness. No spoilers though!
Summary: Jyuumonji gets a crash course in sex ed.
Dedication: afire- this should have been porn, but it ended up being crack instead. YOU KNOW ME.
A/N: It’s 2 in the morning. Coherence has left.
Today, Jyuumonji mused to himself ruefully, was not a good day.
It had started out well enough-he’d gotten breakfast, an A on his math test, and made it to the convenience store before the best kind of yakisoba bread had been sold out. He’d met Sena after they’d finished eating, and the two of them had got to fooling around in the abandoned lockeroom for the rest of the lunch break.
So yeah, not a bad start.
But then, right as he’d been making his way into what he liked to call hand-in-pants-happy-land, things started to go downhill.
The door had been opened and an oblivious Anezaki had strolled in (presumably to get ahead in her managerial duties), only to pause in horror at what she was seeing when she entered the small club room.
Jyuumonji supposed she’d gotten an eyeful of a large, very dangerous-looking lineman (and known delinquent-slash-bully) pinning her precious Sena to the wall.
He’d ended up with a shrieked, “Jyuumonji-kun, what are you doing?!” immediately after that, on the heels of which followed a rather fiercely wielded clipboard being slammed against the back of the head.
Sena had sputtered and managed to say about a billion things that weren’t actually words (which hadn’t helped the situation), though Jyuumonji supposed-in retrospect- that her thinking that he was beating the hell out of the runningback was preferable to the truth in the long run after all.
However, the fact that both of their pants were unzipped became startlingly apparent after the blow to the head had toppled him like a house of cards (she hit hard), and after a three-count beat, the raging manager had paused, figured things out (she was a smart one), and promptly turned bright red.
“Oh Sena,” she’d murmured, and had one hand over her mouth in demure shock.
Which, Jyuumonji knew, was a friggin’ lie, because she hit like she had man-hands.
But either way, here they were. Sitting side by side and looking repentant while Mamori paced in front of them, giving Jyuumonji the third degree.
“You’re serious about this?” she asked, sternly, and eyed him suspiciously.
Sena blushed.
Jyuumonji squirmed. “Well…yeah,” he said after a beat, and thought he would die of embarrassment. How uncool.
“You’re not just toying with him? He’s very delicate, you know!”
Sena blinked.
Jyuumonji fought to keep from laughing at that, because they’d done much wilder things than quickies in the lockeroom during lunch and Sena hadn’t broken yet. But, he supposed, the smaller boy probably would like to keep that knowledge between the two of them, and he’d better speak up before Anezaki thought he was being a playboy and hit him again.
So for Sena’s sake (and his own), Jyuumonji did his best to look reputable. “I’ll treat him real nice,” he promised gruffly, cheeks pink.
Sena blushed some more.
Mamori studied him. “Are you two having sex?”
Jyuumonji choked on his own spit.
Sena was mortified.
Mamori sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Neither boy said anything.
“Are you having safe sex?”
Both boys stared.
Mamori studied them both, critically.
They didn’t say anything, and Jyuumonji thought he might actually die of mortification right then and there, under her unwavering gaze and the knowledge that yes, she was evaluating the kind of sex he had with Sena in her head right now.
Jyuumonji waited to be throttled.
But then, after another three count, she simply sighed and turned her clip board over. Pulled out her dry erase marker professionally, and began to write on it.
Right there, on the play board, she drew two stick figures. Having sex. Like she did it every day.
She didn’t even bat an eye.
Which was all bad enough as was, but when she wrote “Sexually Transmitted Diseases” on the top of her illustrations like a freaking banner, Jyuumonji almost fell off the changing bench.
Truth be told, the lineman would have preferred being socked in the face.
“Pay attention, I’m going to give you both a test at the end,” she said sternly, and meant every word of it as she began her lecture.
“H-hai!” Sena agreed by rote, and Jyuumonji promised himself that he would never, ever criticize the smaller boy for being such a wimp around Anezaki-senpai ever again.
Sometime later, when he was dutifully rolling a condom onto a banana after checking it for holes (the condom, not the banana), he made a mental note that from this day forward, all mid-day lunchtime quickies were to be had in the men’s bathroom on the second floor.
Because that way, if anyone walked in on them, there was a high percentage chance that Jyuumonji could just kill them and be done with it.
Which, he thought, would be about seven billion times easier than trying to spell out ‘gonorrhea’ on his quiz sheet in English.
Sena must have been thinking along similar lines, because once they were released (i.e. once both had made perfect 100s on their tests), the small runningback sighed and said, “Next time someone walks in on us, just punch me in the face and take my lunch money, ne?”
And while the thought horrified him, Jyuumonji had to admit-however fleetingly-that had he done that earlier, the results would have been far less painful than what they’d ended up experiencing just now.
He didn’t even want to know where Anezaki had gotten those condoms from.
END
EDITS PLZ I AM SLEEPY.