Eyeshield Randomness
Jul. 24th, 2006 07:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: Lunch
Rating: G
Pairing: Fatass/Trackstar!
Word Count: 525
Curry bread safely in hand (sometimes it really paid to be the captain of the track team), Ishimaru smiled his most expectant (and therefore sadly bland) smile at the cafeteria lady. He was pretty sure that the breads were still 200 yen apiece but it had been a while since he’d had any money and so he had decided to wait for the exasperated, nasally demand for his lunch money before he forked it over. The line behind him was getting longer and starting to mutter and Ishimaru could feel the back of his neck itching as he tried to beam even harder and cleared his throat. The cafeteria lady wasn’t that old. He was pretty sure she wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t in the mood to get into a fight today.
It took a lot of arm waving and several loud “AHEMs” but he finally caught her attention. A bored sounding “200 yen” was met with a few grumbled “finally’s and godDamn’s” from behind him as he fished in his pocket. Ishimaru frowned, dug around in his pocket, grinned weakly at the now-scowling-and-looking-right-at-him cafeteria worker, traded the hands holding his bread so he could search his other pocket, wanted to die when he encountered not the comforting body-termperature warmth of money but the crinkle of a piece of paper.
“Sorry, sorry. It seems I’m short.” He tried to laugh it off, rubbed at the back of his head and did his best good-natured ignore me impression. It worked, as it always did whether he wanted it to or not, and he laid the curry bread on the counter and vanished seamlessly into the milling throng of students. Darn his younger brother for taking his money AGAIN. At least he left yet another one of his endless I.O.U.’s. Ishimaru shook his head at the grumbling from his stomach and tossed out the hastily written note. It looked like another hungry lunch for him.
He wandered down by the football clubhouse, not out of any real purpose but just to see if Eyeshield 21 was hanging around without Hiruma in sight, and found instead a feast. Kurita had apparently decided to have a picnic and there was a good 2 square yards of food laid out on the trampled grass next to Cerberus’ doghouse. Ishimaru hesitated for a second, a pleased smile dawning on his face when the huge linesman looked up at his approach.
“Ishimaru!” Kurita’s greeting was warm and pleased and he waved a beefy hand across the spread of food. “Want to help? Mom packed for me and Komusubi-kun, but Komusubi-kun’s eating with Sena-kun and them and she’d be upset if I brought home leftovers.”
The simple act of recognition had made a pleasant warmth blossom in his chest and the invitation (coupled with his sadly empty stomach) was eagerly accepted. And if Kurita ate most of the food, well, Ishimaru was only about a fifth of his size and being able to eat lunch and have a conversation without the other party forgetting he was there was even more filling than the rice balls and and dumpling he put in his stomach.
Rating: G
Pairing: Fatass/Trackstar!
Word Count: 525
Curry bread safely in hand (sometimes it really paid to be the captain of the track team), Ishimaru smiled his most expectant (and therefore sadly bland) smile at the cafeteria lady. He was pretty sure that the breads were still 200 yen apiece but it had been a while since he’d had any money and so he had decided to wait for the exasperated, nasally demand for his lunch money before he forked it over. The line behind him was getting longer and starting to mutter and Ishimaru could feel the back of his neck itching as he tried to beam even harder and cleared his throat. The cafeteria lady wasn’t that old. He was pretty sure she wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t in the mood to get into a fight today.
It took a lot of arm waving and several loud “AHEMs” but he finally caught her attention. A bored sounding “200 yen” was met with a few grumbled “finally’s and godDamn’s” from behind him as he fished in his pocket. Ishimaru frowned, dug around in his pocket, grinned weakly at the now-scowling-and-looking-right-at-him cafeteria worker, traded the hands holding his bread so he could search his other pocket, wanted to die when he encountered not the comforting body-termperature warmth of money but the crinkle of a piece of paper.
“Sorry, sorry. It seems I’m short.” He tried to laugh it off, rubbed at the back of his head and did his best good-natured ignore me impression. It worked, as it always did whether he wanted it to or not, and he laid the curry bread on the counter and vanished seamlessly into the milling throng of students. Darn his younger brother for taking his money AGAIN. At least he left yet another one of his endless I.O.U.’s. Ishimaru shook his head at the grumbling from his stomach and tossed out the hastily written note. It looked like another hungry lunch for him.
He wandered down by the football clubhouse, not out of any real purpose but just to see if Eyeshield 21 was hanging around without Hiruma in sight, and found instead a feast. Kurita had apparently decided to have a picnic and there was a good 2 square yards of food laid out on the trampled grass next to Cerberus’ doghouse. Ishimaru hesitated for a second, a pleased smile dawning on his face when the huge linesman looked up at his approach.
“Ishimaru!” Kurita’s greeting was warm and pleased and he waved a beefy hand across the spread of food. “Want to help? Mom packed for me and Komusubi-kun, but Komusubi-kun’s eating with Sena-kun and them and she’d be upset if I brought home leftovers.”
The simple act of recognition had made a pleasant warmth blossom in his chest and the invitation (coupled with his sadly empty stomach) was eagerly accepted. And if Kurita ate most of the food, well, Ishimaru was only about a fifth of his size and being able to eat lunch and have a conversation without the other party forgetting he was there was even more filling than the rice balls and and dumpling he put in his stomach.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 07:52 pm (UTC)The simple act of recognition had made a pleasant warmth blossom in his chest Awww, Trackstar.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-26 04:50 am (UTC)XD I love me some Trackstar even if he doesn't get enough screen time.