Disclaimer: Eyeshield 21 is © Inagaki Riichirou and Murata Yuusuke, Shueisha, Viz, etc. This is a nonprofit fanwork.

Not a Triangle in Any Way, Shape, or Form
by Fushigi Kismet

Sometimes Sena thinks Mamori is being deliberately oblivious.

Perhaps not as oblivious as Hiruma who has all but turned not acknowledging other people's feelings into an art, but then, if Hiruma's special smile after baiting Mamori is anything to go by, maybe it's not so much that Hiruma is oblivious as he just doesn't care. So long as he gets to keep yanking her chain, anyway.

Sena is sure that one day Hiruma will pull too hard and Mamori will give him what-for and it'll probably end up being very pleasant for both of them. The sexual tension tends to crackle so at the best of times, Sena doesn't dare try to envision what will happen once it explodes for fear of never being able to scrub the traces from his mind.

Of course, the most oblivious one of all would have to be Monta who has managed to both misinterpret Mamori's well-meaning smiles and miss Hiruma's pointed scowls which is a Feat if anything is.

He keeps feeling like he should pull Monta aside and explain matters to him, but some part of him is fully, guiltily aware that the message might go across better if Hiruma is doing the talking in front of Monta who would, in turn, be in front of the wrong side of Hiruma's gun. Monta would surely get over it quickly as a matter of survival. Not to mentionit might be safer in the long run than to have him be secretly at odds with Hiruma, who, like as not, would find some way to make his life hell in addition to the usual – just because.

But at this rate, Sena thinks wearily as another heated argument breaks out between captain and manager, Monta might get to be oblivious until the end of the season.

--

Omake

Monta was humming tunelessly and smiling to himself. He had just been busy complimenting Mamori and she had smiled at him. It was looking to be a good day.

Musashi glanced over at the source of the humming then over at Hiruma who was busy taking the safety off of multiple guns and sighed, shutting his locker. On his way out of the locker room he snagged Monta by the back of his shirt and dragged him outside, saying, "Monta, we need to talk."

Monta flailed his arms around in confusion. "Ah! Huh?"

Silence filled the locker room. Hiruma paused, holding a particularly efficient new model of gun he had picked up the other day and fingering the trigger.

Something akin to a wail of disbelief sounded from outside. Four seconds later Monta came back in, a little white, looked nervously in Hiruma's direction, grabbed his school bag, and dashed out the door.

"You're too fucking soft on the monkey," Hiruma said aloud.

"Sorry," Musashi said from the doorway. "I felt bad for him. Besides, I'd like to keep the receiver in one piece if at all possible."

Hiruma looked regretfully at the gun then placed it inside his locker, shutting the door.

"What? No argument? No making Monta's life hell just because?"

"That can wait until tomorrow. I-" Hiruma's grin was a mixture of his usual menace and some new-found self-satisfaction. "-have a date."

It was looking to be a good day.