tampered | Log; Complete

Log; Complete

When; February 27, 2008
Rating; PG-13 [language]
Characters; Anezaki Mamori [

fuckingmanager], Hiruma Yoichi [

fuckingqb]
Summary; Smiles can be more painful than tears, and in lieu of them maybe Mamori needs just a little more comfort than usual.
Log;

It had been several hours since the urge to laugh has subsided, several hours since the worst of the strain on her cheeks had faded away, and yet Mamori still found herself lying in her bed, mostly buried under thick covers, wanting nothing more than to forget the ongoings of the previous day, behavior so uncharacteristic of the calm hold she usually had on her actions, and even her emotions. Unfortunately, whereas the City probably wouldn't have had any qualms about dealing a nice dose of amnesia on any other given day, it didn't seem to be keen on helping Mamori out that night, and no matter how much she tossed and turned, she could still remember it.

The words which slipped through her too-tight lips, the laughter on the tip of her tongue, the expressions of concerned friends--it was all too clear, documented in her memories, and Mamori wanted none of it.

But, given that none of her recollection bore signs of disppearing anytime soon, Mamori knew that at some point or another, she'd have to face her own demons and man up to her own mistakes. First and foremost, to Hiruma.

It figured that it'd be him, causing trouble even without intending to.

She'd waited through practice, through meals, waiting as Hiruma took his time, not wanting to interfere with Kurita's arrival or to get in the way. As nightfall came, however, Mamori decided to seize the moment, Kurita's snores heard even in the hall as Mamori padded her way over to Hiruma's room, knocking softly on the door.

Whether it was an apology, or something else altogether, Mamori knew that she owed it to Hiruma to say something.

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He almost missed the knock, Kurita was snoring so loudly. If the tail end of it hadn't occurred during a brief lull in the sound, he might have missed it entirely.

Hiruma frowned around his gum, popping the bubble he'd blown as his fingers rested against the keys of his laptop. He wasn't certain that the noise he'd heard had been knocking. After a beat he slid his computer off his lap, climbing off of the bed and opening his door, just to be certain.

It wasn't so much a surprise to find someone standing there, as it was to discover Mamori had left her room. He hadn't seen her all day, and he knew exactly why that was. He looked at her silently, expression blank, chewing his gum quietly as he waited.

Edited 2008-03-05 01:03 (UTC)

She bit her lower lip nervously, unable to read his expression and feeling all the worse for it, fingers tugging at the fabric of her nightgown before she looked up, a weary smile on her face--she'd gotten so tired of using the expression.

"Hey," she greeted softly, keeping in mind that Kurita was in the room. For a few seconds, Mamori paused, teeth worrying her lower lip again as her hand moved to rub her upper arm, a shiver running down her back.

"Sorry about yesterday, Hiruma-kun. But... at least I'm smiling normally, now?"

With a nervous laugh, Mamori shifted her weight from one foot to the other. What else was there to say, really? So many things that she'd kept suppressed, so many things that didn't need to be made known--if only there hadn't been a curse, and if only she'd been able to keep her mouth shut. But, in the City, it seemed like a few days' worth of peace was often too much to ask for.

"I was wondering if it'd be possible to have the talk I asked for a while back?"

She was right; that at least was a relief. And while catching Mamori under the influence of a curse was a great way to get blackmail material, that didn't mean he wanted her acting like that all the time. The City certainly wasn't doing anything to engender him toward it; great blackmail potential or not, it meant that the fucking manager had been out of commission for the better part of two days. She'd missed four practices, among other things, and she certainly didn't look like she'd be able to focus properly right now.

Figuring that if this talk would help get her head on straight for practice in the morning, Hiruma shrugged, stepping back and resuming his seat on his bed. He didn't know how long she planned on talking, but he wasn't going to stand around the whole time.

Edited 2008-03-05 01:05 (UTC)

Blinking in confusion, Mamori stared for a few moments before following Hiruma into the room, standing next to the bed and folding her arms nervously, not trusting herself to take the liberty of actually sitting down. Something about the entire situation felt distant, yet Mamori wasn't sure if it was all in her head--it wouldn't have been the first time, but it certainly didn't make opening up any easier.

Where could she even begin?

"Putting the curse aside, ah..." Mamori paused, looking down at her hands before smoothing out her nightgown again, for no apparent reason. "A couple days ago, when you posted about Father Abel, did you... read all of the discussions which went on?"

She could feel the blood rising to her cheeks already.

"It was on my journal." He said without looking up from his computer screen. He knew she already knew the answer to that. She couldn't have expected him, really, to not read everything that was said on his journal. The only reason she would be asking was because she wanted to hear the answer that she wanted to hear, which was no, he hadn't. Which means that there was something that had been said, likely by her, that she didn't want him to see. She wanted reassurances that something that had been said had been more private than it actually was.

Hiruma blew a bubble and popped his gum, typing steadily. He didn't offer her a seat on the bed, or even tell her to sit down. If she wanted to stand, she could stand. She'd sit eventually, if she felt like it. Mamori should know to just make herself comfortable; if she was waiting for an invitation from him, she was going to be waiting a hell of a long time. The invitation was implied the moment she stepped into his room; Hiruma figured that it was one she knew and was willfully refusing, for the moment.

Edited 2008-03-03 02:24 (UTC)

While normally, Mamori might have simply sat down on the bed, for some odd reason it felt almost as though there was some kind of wall barring her from doing so, a wall constructed from all the little inhibitions which she'd never felt before, somewhere between fear and curiosity, although it didn't quite feel like either. The feeling was, of course, only intensified after Hiruma's words, his blank expression, the steady clicking of his keyboard--too many little details on which Mamori could focus on, if she so chose.

Apparently, hours of pondering, wondering, and practically everything but planning left Mamori lost for words. So he read it. Was the bland admission significant, somehow? Did it mean that the comments were pointless and not worth addressing (hopefully not), did it mean that he implicitly agreed (she wasn't willing to bet on that), did it mean that he didn't want her to mention it (quite possible)?

But, more importantly, what did Mamori herself think of it?

Excited, a guilty part of her conscience replied. When the little girl had suggested a deeper reason or cause behind Hiruma's actions, his protectiveness--well, what girl wouldn't enjoy such a thought? For all the times that Mamori removed herself from a regular high school student's social life, she still identified with them in many ways.

It almost felt like a confession.

"Then, what the little blond girl said..."

Did it mean anything? Was she right?

"...am I reading too much into it?"

He glanced at her over the top of his laptop, silent for a long time. This was not the sort of conversation he wanted to have. It seemed pointless to him to sit around and talk about feelings, and he wondered why she suddenly needed some kind of reassurance.

No, not reassurance. That wasn't what she was looking for. He looked at her, eyebrows drawn together, low over his eyes. She wanted clarification, which was something he'd never given her before. It had never seemed necessary. She was the manager of the football team. She'd become his right hand. He'd come to rely on her, despite himself; he'd figured, with as much that went unspoken between them that she never questioned, that this would fall into the same category.

Apparently not. He made a quiet sound, sucking on his teeth slightly, his hands still on his laptop.

"What do you think, fucking manager?"

The slight crease in her brow deepened in the silence, Mamori rubbing her arm and feeling inexplicably cold, gaze still hovering somewhere on the ground. This was always the way Hiruma seemed to operate, keeping people on tenterhooks, keeping them on alert, she supposed. Always leaving her hanging and taking his own sweet time, never saying more than he deemed necessary.

She started at the sound of his voice, feeling something twist in her stomach and glancing up, only to find a rather unreadable expression on his face, solemn and almost piercing in its gaze. But no matter how significant, the problem always came back to Mamori never being sure, and not wanting to make assumptions--Hiruma deserved far better than that, the possibility of having his words and actions misconstrued.

"That's not... an answer, Hiruma-kun," she murmured quietly, tongue wetting her lower lip as she leaned more heavily back against the wall. "And always turning my questions back on me, it isn't fair of you to do that."

Not that Hiruma really operated on a level of fairness.

Edited 2008-03-03 18:23 (UTC)

No, it wasn't fair, but Hiruma wasn't going to do Mamori the injustice of assuming that she expected him to play fair. You kept your cards hidden and you used whatever means necessary--bluffing, mind games, trickery--in order to win. It was the only way you could get through life. It was a concept that had never failed him before, and it wouldn't start now.

So why was it, when he looked at her leaning against the wall of the room, the only sound the never-ending snoring from the other occupant of the apartment, that Hiruma suddenly wondered if it might be time to show her the cards in his hand. Eventually you had to, in order for the hand to end and new cards to be dealt.

His frown deepened, mouth working on autopilot as he chewed, blew a bubble, the process helping him to think. He hated losing, and revealing your cards too soon was guaranteed to cost the game.

Then again, it seemed that she was close to being ready to show her own hand.

His gum popped under the sound of Kurita's snore. "You want to know my motives?"

Hands folding together behind her back, lightly tugging on the fabric of her gown, Mamori watched closely as the cogs in Hiruma's mind turned, wondering just what it was that had finally driven him to think so deeply, to pause without a prompt reply, to allow the both of them to linger in the midst of a stalemate where normally, he never hesitated much before taking decisive action.

It couldn't hurt him much either way, right? No matter how Mamori looked at the situation, it was her being left hanging, it was her who had taken the initial step in a manner which clearly implicated her on some level. In terms of the playing field, the ball was still on Hiruma's half--although Mamori supposed that Hiruma would find that to be a pretty sorry excuse to suddenly give way, even if only a little.

Her knuckles tightened slightly.

"Yes," Mamori replied resolutely, strength in her stance despite the slight waver in her voice. But if she was going to be disappointed at some point in time, it may as well have been sooner rather than later.

Edited 2008-03-05 03:37 (UTC)

His gaze was back on the computer, typing once again, though he wasn't paying nearly as much attention to it as he usually did. He had asked her the question, and he had known her answer, even before he'd asked it. In a sense the question had been rhetorical, more for the sake of buying time. Hiruma hated the idea of coming out and just telling her this. It wasn't embarrassment. It was a deep-seated reservation.

He looked at the screen, fingers moving over the keys, registering what he was doing just enough to keep from screwing anything up while he was distracted. He didn't want to have this conversation--he wanted her to simply sense what he was thinking, what he wanted, the way she had so many times before. If he thought, for a moment, that she might, and was simply asking in order to hear him say it out loud, Hiruma wouldn't even think of humoring her. The only reason he was considering it now was because he could tell that this was something she really was uncertain over.

"I don't want you to get hurt." He finally admitted. Maybe that would be enough. There was a slim chance it might.

It was both an answer and anything but, the slight way in which his actions were thrown off speaking volumes, but in a language Mamori wasn't quite prepared to read, knowledge toying at the fringes of her mind but not truly registering. When Hiruma treaded lines, he did so carefully, to the point where the air of comfort she usually felt around him was dispelled, for the moment. Mamori would almost rather put the entire problem away, hiding it from view, just to put herself more at ease.

Maybe admitting her uncertainty had been a mistake. Unfortunately, it wasn't one she could just take back.

Wordlessly, Mamori made her way to Hiruma's bed, to the side where he'd left more room, whether intentionally or not, and slowly slid on, palms resting on the bedsheets. A few moments later, and she shifted closer to him, gaze finally falling on his face, eying his contemplative expression and matching it with one of her own.

Maybe this was just asking for another irreparable mistake to happen, but Mamori figured that if he disliked it, if he hated it even, Hiruma would stop her. Sometimes he humored her, but such moments were few and far between, and usually held more teasing in store for her than anything else she could've gained in the process.

Which didn't seem to be the case, here.

With her brows furrowed almost painfully, Mamori quickly leaned in, brushing her lips against his for a brief moment, feeling something in her chest tighten while doing so, before pulling back. Eyes closed, a dark flush on her cheeks, afraid of opening them to find some kind of sign of disapproval on his face.

The only thing registering on his expression was surprise. Of all the things he would have predicted she would do, that had a low enough probability that it hadn't entered his mind. It was risky; she was throwing her cards on the table and putting all her money in the pot. She was making it almost too easy for him to win, and she had so much to lose.

A slow heat filled his chest. It swelled up and he grinned, broadly. Yeah, she'd taken a risk. She was a fucking Devil Bat. That's what they did.

She wasn't looking at him now, though. He wondered if she regretted it. If she was thinking it was a risk she shouldn't have taken. He certainly hadn't forced her; it was something she wanted to do. More than that, though, it was an expressed sentiment that she wanted--maybe even needed--him to return. In the end this was the result of what the kid had said to her on his journal. She'd pointed out behavior that he'd been displayed for months now--behavior he figured spoke loud enough on its own. Actions over words, after all.

And this. This was a loud fucking action she'd taken, and he figured she was waiting for something in kind. Or at least some kind of vocal reaction.

Hiruma leaned toward her, invading her personal space with little consideration for the discomfort it might cause her, fingers snaking over her chin. He turned her head until she was facing him, until he could touch his mouth against hers. This touch was no more substantial than the one she'd initiated, but there was no way she could miss it.

"Finally figured it out?" She'd probably barely be able to hear it over Kurita's snoring, but she would be able to feel it as his lips moved against hers.

It was far from being her first kiss--being one of the most admired girls in the school meant that Mamori got asked on many dates, some of which she didn't have the heart to refuse, and what girl didn't enjoy dabbling in romance?--yet Mamori could feel her heart racing from the almost feather-light touch, inhaling sharply and unevenly at the contact. The vibrations which passed from his lips to hers sent a small shiver down her spine, and slowly Mamori's eyes opened, gaze meeting his even from such a short distance.

Words caught in her throat, begging and struggling to spill over, but his lips and his fingers held the floodgate closed--perhaps it was better that way.

Slowly, gently, she tilted her head, lips tentatively moving over his, deepening the kiss. All of Mamori's awareness focused on that one small movement, hands rigidly fixed in her lap and legs twisted awkwardly, yet not moving an inch. Even her breath seemed hesitant, lightly fanning over his skin.

She'd taken a risk, a good one--why not try for the extra-point kick?

It was a tactic he approved of--if you had an chance for an extra point, you took it. It didn't matter how likely you were to make it. Hiruma was a horrible kicker, but the tried for it every single time, because there was a chance he might make it. You didn't throw away opportunities to get more points.

She'd pursued the kiss, pushing a bit closer; his fingers dragged over her throat, hooking behind her neck, tangling into the loose strands of her hair. He pulled her closer, the touch of his mouth against hers becoming stronger. It wasn't demanding, not quite yet. He expected a lot from her--more than anything he assumed that she would meet these demands. And she did, which was what made her such a good manager for the football team. She was useful, more so than he had initially thought she would be.

How this would translate when they moved forward was something he'd not taken much time to consider. The team, the Christmas Bowl, consumed too much of his thinking. It was a consideration he was mulling over now though, as he kissed her, even if admittedly it wasn't with as much focus as he'd normally give such a thing.

He splayed his fingers, keeping her close, thumb stroking and pressing into the soft skin just behind her ear, pulling away from the kiss so that he could look at her again. He wanted to see what she looked like when she was being kissed; he wanted to see how her expression changed.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she felt his lips pressed closer, harder, each movement a caress against hers as long fingers wove their way into her hair, tickling the base of her neck and pulling the corner of her mouth into a small grin, a laugh barely contained. She flinched slightly as the twist of her body increased still, briefly stalling the kiss as she drew her legs onto the bed, then persisted as she had before, hand lightly tracing along the clean line of his jaw, thumb rubbing over his cheek.

She never was quite sure why she felt such an attraction to Hiruma--he wasn't the best player on the team, his personality was simply antagonistic at best, and Mamori liked to think that she was capable of looking beyond looks alone, even if in that element Hiruma was hardly the conventional heartthrob anyway--but Mamori was loath to question it. There was simply some kind of power in him, resolve in his eyes, a yearn for something greater that persisted; perhaps Mamori wanted such a thing for herself as well.

Her pulse was racing, pounding in her ears, a deep flush rising to her cheeks as Mamori leaned in slightly, eyes slowly closing, Mamori desperately trying to calm her nerves lest it all spill over, somehow. There was no point in getting worked up--who knew how long this was going to last, perhaps it was a passing fancy, but even if it wasn't Mamori didn't want to give Hiruma the satisfaction so easily after her fall.

Chasing after his lips when he started pulling back, however, probably wasn't the smartest move.

Once his intentions had become clear, Mamori tensed, freezing in places and slowly opening her eyes, gaze falling first on his lips, then rising to meet his own. A sheepish smile tugged at her lips, slowly growing more broad.

Well, if she'd planned on hiding it, it was too late now.

Her grin had nothing on his. Hiruma chuckled lowly at the look on her face. It wasn't that he was laughing at her, necessarily; rather, and he'd never have admitted to this, it was an outlet for that thick, hot feeling that filled his chest, expanding until he thought he might burst. It was the same feeling he got whenever they won a game, a crazy, almost reckless emotion that nearly choked him.

From a kiss. He'd never doubted he'd kiss Mamori, one day. It wasn't arrogance, simply certainty. That day had just come much sooner than he'd thought it would. The both of them had been too focused on getting to the Christmas Bowl to take the time to indulge in something like this.

He could feel her pulse race under his thumb, stroking the skin of her neck almost absently. He saw her gaze linger on his mouth, and it only made him smile more. He applied a bit of pressure to her neck, tugged her to him and closed the gap himself. His teeth were a ghost over her lower lip, his breath hot against her. He dropped his hand from her neck, found the curve of her check and scraped the rough pad of his thumb over the flushed skin, feeling the heat of her blush and grinning into the kiss because of it.

Edited 2008-03-17 09:40 (UTC)

Mamori had always wondered what his teeth would feel like, gaze having lingered on what almost seemed like an endless row of canines, and she was far from disappointed, shivering as his teeth grazed over her lower lip and moaning rather audibly against his lips--a move which shocked even herself, and she became all the more self-conscious for it, shoulders hunching slightly out of embarrassment.

She was in the middle of leaning in further again, about to turn on her side or get on her knees or anything that would lessen the awkward position she was physically in, when suddenly the room fell silent. Or, well, perhaps it had been quiet to begin with, but it certainly felt as though something was missing--

--suddenly, Mamori pulled back, eyes wide.

"Kurita-kun..." she whispered, clapping a hand over her mouth. Had she woken him up with the sounds she'd been making?

Edited 2008-03-28 16:33 (UTC)

Hiruma highly doubted that the fucking fatass had even heard Mamori, even if she had moaned quite loudly and suddenly (and wasn't he keen to have that happen again?). Putting aside the fact that Kurita slept like the dead, there was no way her moan was louder than his snoring. Though that was a challenge he couldn't help but to file away for later.

For now though he scoffed, quietly, adding a roll of his eyes to emphasize his opinion of the likelihood of the other occupant of the apartment being awake. Then he grinned, still leaning close to her despite her having retreated.

"Confused as to who you're here with?"

"No--NO--hmmph," Mamori huffed, lips drawing into a pout as she tried to push Hiruma away gently, brows furrowed even as her cheeks were so red. "It... it isn't that, it's just that he's still in bed but I could've sworn I heard his snores stop..."

She glanced at the wall nervously, as though suddenly Kurita would peek through it with his trademark smile, then look at Hiruma again.

"I should really get back to bed," she said hurriedly, voice still barely above a whisper.

He snickers, because she looks like a kid that has just stolen a cookie out of the cookie jar and is expecting to get caught at any moment. Not that being caught by Kurita would really be that big of a deal--Hiruma knew how to handle the fucking fatass. Besides, knowing him, he'd probably be thrilled, if the kissing meant that he and Mamori were an item now.

Which is exactly what it meant in his mind but Hiruma wasn't going to just come out and say it. That would make it too easy on Mamori. Plus, she should already know these things. She was one of the people that he expected to be able to read his thoughts; sometimes even before he thinks them.

"Hn." Which was the only reply she was going to get to the suggestion that she go back to bed. He was in part opposed to it, in part not. Opposed because he'd rather her be in here so he could kiss her, but at the same time there was morning practice to consider. He was tired, even if he wouldn't show it.

Edited 2008-03-18 16:42 (UTC)

Mamori let herself kiss him, just one more time, a quick little thing against the corner of his lips before she quickly pulled back, sliding off the bed--and although she would've liked for the kissing to continue, the way her legs shook made Mamori wonder if perhaps heading to bed was the best idea right now after all.

At least now, she could breathe properly again. She'd have to work on that.

She stopped at the doorway, pausing as her hand rested on the wooden panel before turning to look over her shoulder to smile at Hiruma again. Nothing too broad or excited; she could save that for when she got back in her room.

Hiruma watched her stop at his door, grinning broadly--whereas hers would have been excited, his was simply predatory, even eager. There was a wicked edge to it, as well, but that was simply business as usual for him. Wicked he did almost without thinking, anymore, even when he had no reason for it. It was managing "normal" smiles that required a bit of thought before execution for him.

As Kurita's snoring started again Hiruma quirked an eyebrow at her, but when he spoke all he said was, "Good night, fucking manager."

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