Hooked [Eyeshield 21, Kurita, Hiruma, Musashi, PG]
Title: Hooked
Author: Demoerin
Rating: PG
Warnings: mostly friendly rather than slashy.
Word count: 1248
Summary/Prompt: Hiruma/Kurita/Musashi, Best Friends Forever - "Idiot."
A/N: Sorry it's late!
It wasn't letting go of him.
Hiruma played the game and didn't think much of things like his father's face at seeing him covered in mud, grass and some blood for flavour, or the Christmas Bowl trophy that appeared in news articles he cut out to study and Kurita pinned to the clubhouse wall, or the way Musashi's concrete face cracked a smile more often. He played the game.
There was a lot that really needed thinking about. He knew football itself, of course, having memorised every rule of the game and variation thereon in the time he'd been sneaking into the USA army base. But he'd never had to contend with the idea that the players' options would be halved by the weakness of their little middle school bodies, meaning he'd have to scrap half the plays he came up with. He'd never had to worry about getting some fucking players in the first place.
American Football at Maou Middle School was a magnet for challenges. Building the clubhouse on the corner of the grounds where Kurita had started playing, getting Doburoku recognised as a qualified coach instead of just a drunk, getting the first school to take them seriously and agree to play a game, and then getting others to agree after they saw by what kind of ridiculous margin the Maou team lost.
He did it all, of course. Even though it made Kurita shiver like a jelly (hilarious) and sometimes put this look on Musashi's face like a disapproving mother (slightly disturbing, and then hilarious). He didn't know about the grin on his own face through it all.
- - -
Kurita wasn't letting go.
Literally.
Kurita held Hiruma's hand on the left and Musashi's on the right. Musashi would have thought more about extricating his own hand, but he held on to Kurita with a carefully complacent expression and watched Hiruma from the corner of his eye. He knew when he was about to get quality entertainment.
A pink bubble of gum grew steadily between Hiruma's teeth. It popped.
"Fucking fatty."
Kurita's hands instantly went damp with sweat.
"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?"
Kurita had got a lot more used to Hiruma's constant swearing and flinched only a little, so he was focused enough to keep hold of Hiruma's hand. Musashi was gripped by the question of why on earth he wanted to, but he was too busy doubling over with silent laughter to ask. Hiruma waved an anti-aircraft gun and pulling away with one foot buried in Kurita's stomach, and Kurita tearfully yelled words too high-pitched to understand and waved both of them around as he tried to gesture an explanation.
"Hiruma-kun and Musashi-kun put in such an effort," Kurita explained eventually, after he had concussed two freshmen and run away in panicked shock, the other two in tow. "And yet we ... we never win!"
He knotted his fingers together at the dreadful confession, looking so pathetic that Musashi almost took his hand again. Instead he massaged feeling back into his fingers.
"It would be terrible if Hiruma-kun and Musashi-kun got discouraged, and ... and maybe lea-"
"So you cheer us up like you're our fucking boyfriend?" Hiruma roared, hooking a finger into a hand grenade's pin for emphasis.
"Of course," said Musashi, in the tone of someone stating the obvious.
Silence. Then Musashi burst out laughing, because even he couldn't keep a straight face at finally seeing Hiruma look dumb: eyes wide and jaw slack as he stared, forgetting all about the grenade in his hand.
"Let's just get practice started, you two," he sputtered, and for once didn't dare complain about Hiruma's gratuitous use of bullets to get them to run faster.
The joke would have gone to rest there, as neither Musashi or Kurita were bulletproof, but two nights later Musashi invited them to his house: "Dad said he'd like to know more about the club."
("Who are these brats you're wasting your time with after school, Gen? Distracting you from honest work!"
"Then why don't you work harder, old man?"
A clap on the back hard enough to make Musashi hiccup meant he had to ask invite Hiruma and Kurita over. He hadn't thought his father would be so honestly happy about him doing something that caused him help out less with the business, in spite of what everyone said about him needing to act more like a kid.)
Hiruma looked vaguely disbelieving as they entered Musashi's apartment building, but only explained himself as Musashi reached out to open his front door. "I can't believe you were fucking serious. A dinner date with the in-laws. What are we going to do next, paint our nails?"
Kurita giggled in sheer panic and complimented Musashi on his home the second they stepped in, before Hiruma could go on swearing at everything in that general way of his. Most people didn't understand that Hiruma wasn't so bad, really. He didn't always mean exactly what he said or the way he said it, and when he did, there was a good chance people deserved it, and even if it wasn't always the best idea to point it out- All in all, Kurita tried not to let Hiruma speak for the rest of the night.
When Hiruma did, Kurita and Musashi were surprised to find that he behaved perfectly normally - that is, almost exactly opposite to himself, but normal for most people. Musashi's father said hardly anything to them, but by the end of the evening they got claps on the back that made even Hiruma look respectful.
Kurita and Hiruma walked home different ways; Musashi watched them go, grinning as they glanced over their shoulders at each other and waving when they took their last glances back at him.
- - -
The next day Hiruma got them roses.
"With a Fucking Ton of Love", according to the card. Hiruma said nothing, focused on the screen of his laptop and typing away.
Kurita fussed around happily looking for things to use as vases. Musashi kept a straight face for the benefit of the kids Hiruma had conned into the American Football Club, so that at least one of the founding members looked sane.
The smell of the fresh roses managed to overpower the usual scent of sweat, and Musashi found that he appreciated that. He ignored it when Hiruma grinned wickedly at the way he sniffed the air. The other kids filtered out quickly.
Kurita was oblivious, or had become better at ignoring the bad side of things after getting to know Hiruma. "We really are going to play together for good, aren't we?" he said. "We might get all the way to the Christmas Bowl together!"
"Idiot," said the others, Musashi fond and Hiruma irritated.
"I don't know why the fuck you bother to talk like that," Hiruma snarled, practically slamming his laptop closed as he stood. He felt their shock and anger crawl up his spine as he grabbed his kit, and finished:
"Of course we will!"
Kurita squeaked, and Musashi stared. Hiruma grabbed a rifle and stepped out onto the field, taking the safety off his gun as he watched the half-hearted jogging of the other club members speed up. Behind him came the sounds of shifting, and he could picture exactly to what corners of the clubhouse the other two were going to get their gear. Hiruma grinned.
He wasn't letting go.