Title: Boom! Smash!
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Gaou, Agon (Sena, Monta, Hiruma, Kurita, Shin, and Achilles also present)
Word Count: 995
Warning/s: Spoilers for chapters 306+ (and some ridiculous violence)
Summary: They can’t break each other (but not from lack of trying).
Dedication: UM, lol how about
juin. ARE YOU CAUGHT UP YET?
A/N: These two are amazing okay.
The All-Japan team’s return flight from America is terrifying.
It starts when Gaou may or may not accidentally rip off the armrest of the seat he is in, because not all of him can quite fit into it. Shin magnanimously decides not to comment when Gaou ends up spilling into half of his space, most likely because Shin thinks that suffering hardship can make you stronger.
“Great, they’re adjustable after all,” Gaou says obliviously, before grinning and tossing the detached armrest over his shoulder.
What follows is a soft thunk as the jagged bit of metal lands a few feet behind Gaou. After that there is a moment of dead silence, and then the sudden and chilling rise of a murderous aura that screams for death and vengeance.
“Oh god we’re all going to die,” Monta hisses to Sena from his seat across the aisle, as the two of them stare at a silently seething Agon and the crushed remains of Gaou’s armrest as it sits where it landed on top of his head.
Much to the horror of the smaller Deimon players watching, Agon then proceeds to rise out of his seat like an angry spirit, rage prompting his dreadlocks to rear up around him like the snakes of Medusa as he crumples the armrest into a ball with his bare hands and pitches it with sniper-like accuracy at the back of Gaou’s head. “I’ll kill you, fucking trash!” he declares, lip curled manically.
The armrest shatters. Gaou blinks. Turns around. Sees Agon. “What,” he asks, and absently sticks his finger into his nose, “you want something?”
Agon bristles. “Fucking die!” he shouts, climbing over the seats to follow through.
He slams into Gaou with a force strong enough to shake the entire aircraft.
The captain dutifully flips on the fasten seatbelt sign.
“You bored too?” Gaou realizes a beat later, when he suddenly finds both of Agon’s hands wrapped around his throat.
Off to the side, Achilles looks thoughtful. “Ah, a seat trade,” he realizes out loud to himself, when he sees Agon perched with perfect balance on the remaining armrest between his and Gaou’s seats. He shrugs and gets up to go take Agon’s instead, wondering when those two got to be such good friends.
“What’s wrong with you guys?” he asks casually, when he passes by Monta and Sena on his way to his new seat and sees the Deimon pair clinging to each other and sobbing.
Back in the front, the plane shakes again when Agon manages to pull one of the chairs out of the floor and tries using it like a bat against the ball that he’s decided is Gaou’s face. Shin remains resolutely buckled in his seat-as per safety regulations and the lighted placard indicates- all while dodging the crushed metal and suitcase shards flying through the air by using upper body movements only. He considers it good training for the long flight back.
“Hiruma, do something!” Kurita begs from nearby, as he instinctively tries to shield his aislemates from flying debris.
Hiruma dutifully presses the flight attendant call button. Kurita sighs in relief.
“Yes?” an elderly American stewardess asks when she arrives a few minutes later. Hiruma pops gum. “I need some earplugs,” he tells her, without looking up from his laptop. “It’s fucking noisy.”
“Of course!” She scurries off to comply.
Hiruma smiles while Kurita cries a little, alongside Monta and Sena.
In the meantime, Gaou and Agon are running out of things to smash into each other and settle for their fists instead, because clearly everything else is weak and pathetic and crumbles to dust too easily.
Agon’s fist slams into Gaou’s chest. Nothing gives.
Gaou’s arm wraps around Agon’s head. And squeezes.
Nothing gives. Except maybe the structural integrity of the aircraft.
“We seem to be experiencing some turbulence,” the captain chimes in, needlessly.
Sena and Monta start to pray.
And eventually, the old flight attendant returns with Hiruma’s earplugs. She pauses for a moment when she sees Gaou and Agon wrapped up around each other with the armrests between their chairs missing.
She smiles. “Your two certainly are close!” she twitters fondly, and hands Hiruma the little plastic baggy. “I haven’t seen young men hugging that tightly since those gays that flew with us last month!”
And for another, terrifying moment, the entire aircraft goes dead silent again.
Hiruma absently pops his gum and takes the earplugs. “Get me some Ginger Ale too,” he adds to the stewardess like an afterthought, while the rest of his team silently resigns themselves to a watery grave when Agon and Gaou’s rage battle explodes and they crash into the depths of the ocean.
They imagine that the headline will read something like this: “Stewardess’s Horrible Misconception Destroys All of Japan’s Future Football Prospects as Plane Combusts into Fiery Ball of Flaming Wreckage and Death.” Except maybe shorter and catchier, since Americans seem to like that.
They all anxiously turn back to Gaou and Agon.
Who are no longer fighting.
“Fucking never touch me again, stupid trash,” Agon mutters to Gaou, all rage suddenly gone (as evidenced by his dreadlocks hanging limply on his shoulders). “Stupid fucking Americans,” he adds because he feels the need to, before hunkering down in Achilles’ (former) seat and going to sleep.
“Hahaha I haven’t bled like this in a while,” Gaou murmurs to himself randomly, like he’s talking about a mosquito bite. He shakes bits of glass and steel out of his hair and pushes the flight attendant call button. “I want Ginger Ale too.”
There is now a clear one foot marker between any parts of their bodies.
Sena, Monta, and Kurita look at Hiruma with tears of joy in their eyes.
“Hiruma is amazing,” Kurita whimpers, while Hiruma uses his earplugs to very easily ignore them.
In the meantime, Shin blinks and wonders what other training he can find to do for the rest of the flight.
END
EDITS?