Fanfiction: Glee - Buy Me Some Peanuts and a Veggie Dog
Title: Buy Me Some Peanuts and a Veggie Dog
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3,000ish
Pairing: Santana/Rachel, Puck. Mike
Summary: Santana and Rachel go to a NY Mets game together.
Author's Note: The first line is shamelessly stolen from a lynnearlington pezberry ficlet. Also my apologies for this getting more into the baseball end of things than I intended.
To be fair, Rachel is short and easily misplaced. Santana swears this is the last time she lets Rachel out of her sight at a Mets game because this isn’t even the first time she’s lost her at a sporting event.
And it’s a moment like this, when she’s trying to find her girlfriend, which makes her wish Mike could have taken the second ticket. Instead, Puck had to tell her he couldn’t get out of work in front of Rachel, and Santana has this really hard time saying no when Rachel puts on her expectant face.
It certainly isn’t Santana’s fault that Rachel had to go to a completely different concessions stand to get her veggie dog. She would have gone with her, but the stand closest to their section has Sam Adams Summer Ale on tap and she takes these things into account when buying tickets. She’s not going to shell out seven bucks for whatever crappy stuff is across the way.
And unfortunately they’re playing the Nationals, so it doesn’t help that entire sea of people are all decked out in their Mets attire without a single away fan in sight.
And now she’s trying not to spill their beers while searching for a tiny brunette in a blue t-shirt, classic fitted Mets cap, and a pair of shorts she was really appreciating not too long ago but currently aren’t doing her any good.
None of this would have been a problem if they had just gotten their food before the game like Santana had wanted when there was enough time to go to both stands. But Rachel had insisted on being in their seats early so they didn’t miss the National Anthem.
Santana doesn’t really see the point when Rachel is clearly better than whoever they got to open for a game versus the Nationals.
Santana’s about to give up because how lost can Rachel really get inside the stadium? Her girlfriend has her ticket and there are giant numbers everywhere, and they should have agreed to meet back at the seats anyway.
Right when Santana turns to go back to her section she hears Rachel’s laugh echoing across the concourse. The sound works like a homing beacon.
She sees Rachel, two braids trailing out of the back of her hat, talking with one of the security guards. He’s tall and burly, with a smoothly shaved head. The pair visually could not be more opposite, and the sight makes Santana shake her head in amusement.
“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Santana balances the holder with the drinks and hotdog in her left hand while she slides the right over Rachel’s shoulders. There’s no reason Rachel needs to know she was seconds away from returning to their seats and drinking both the beers.
“Oh, sorry. I got lost after I purchased my veggie dog so I had to stop and ask for help. It turns out Jared here saw my show last week with his wife and we began talking and...”
Santana tries not to make a habit of cutting Rachel off (unless it’s with her lips), but at the moment she’s missing the game and the food is getting unwieldy so she makes an exception.
“It’s fine. I mean we’re going to have to get you one of those little kid leashes and strap you to my arm. Or maybe one of those bear backpack-leash combos. I lose you way too much for my own comfort,” Santana says and she knows the indignant stop is coming. It's one of the things she loves best about goading Rachel.
Rachel doesn’t disappoint and even puts her free hand on her hip for good measure. “Jared, you’ll have to excuse my girlfriend, Santana. She frequently forgets her manners when I take her out in public.”
The security guard watches the exchange with raised eyebrows, and Santana’s not sure which of the two of them has him more amused.
“Santana, huh? Very appropriate name for a Mets fan,” the security guard says.
“Johan Santana is our favorite pitcher for obvious reasons,” Rachel says. “It’s not often that you can purchase a jersey with your own name on it.” Rachel turns Santana around to reveal that she’s wearing the pitcher’s jersey.
Santana’s had enough of being used as show-and-tell and grabs Rachel’s hand to take them back to their seats when Jared speaks up again.
“Just don’t let Dickey hear you say he’s your favorite when I take you back to meet everyone, ok?” he says.
Rachel makes a motion of zipping her mouth shout, and Santana asks, “Wait, what?”
“Oh yes, it seems as though R. A. Dickey is also a Broadway fan so Jared is certain he can get us back after the game to meet the team,” Rachel says like that isn’t something that should have been mentioned the moment Santana found her.
And just like that, losing Rachel actually becomes the highlight of the evening because it means they get stay and get introduced to the players. It makes sense that the quirky pitcher would like Broadway and give them this chance.
“You’ll have to wait a little while after the game is over. Reyes is in particular has a very specific post-game ritual that cannot be changed,” Jared says.
“Ooo, he’s you’re other favorite. The fast one right?” Rachel asks.
“Yes, our shortstop. I’m impressed,” Santana says, and Rachel beams at the praise.
“So I take it that’s a yes to meeting the players after?”
A delay should work perfectly because she and Rachel always have to walk to a different subway line with how packed it always gets after the game. This way they won’t have to fight the crowds.
“We would love to,” Santana says, and finally gets Rachel to move back towards their seats.
//
“You’re not mad at me are you?” Rachel asks once they’re back and watching.
“You just got us in to see the team after the game. How could I be mad at you?” Santana says.
“I know, but aside from that. I couldn’t find you, I made you miss some of the inning, and this was Puck’s ticket to begin with,” Rachel says.
“You worry too much. You know I was kidding about the leash thing right?” Santana asks and Rachel scoffs at her. “And why would I want to be sitting here with Puck when I could have my girlfriend next to me in really fabulous shorts so I can check out her legs anytime I want.”
“It’s true that Puck would not be able to pull these off as well as I do,” Rachel says looking down at her own legs while Santana continues to ogle them unabashedly.
Santana goes back on forth on what her favorite feature of Rachel’s is, but at the moment it is definitely her legs.
Santana’s interrupted by her phone buzzing. “Speak of the devil. Puck wants updates until he can make it home and catch the end on tv.”
“Don’t you dare think of sending him fake updates,” Rachel apparently knows what Santana’s smirk means as she types out a response to Puck.
“You know it would be perfect,” Santana gives Rachel the smile that she can’t resist.
Rachel stares her down but does give in. “Alright fine, but only if I get to send some too.”
“Of course,” Santana says. “He’s not going to believe me if we tell him the Nationals are dominating.”
//
“Hmm-mm,” Rachel hums appreciatively when the Mets take the field in the third.
“Think you could lust a little quieter. Some of us are trying to watch a game,” Santana says. She expects an affronted gasp and a denial, so she’s surprised when Rachel gives a simple no and keeps her eyes trained on the players warming up.
Now Santana is a little offended. She knows Rachel thinks she’s hot, but professional baseball players are stiff competition even for her.
“You do realize your girlfriend,” she makes sure to emphasize her title, “Is sitting right next to you.”
“You know I find baseball uniforms very attractive, and that I have a particular weakness for pinstripes as well,” Rachel says as if that should settle it.
Santana tries to not let her jealousy get the best of her and she’s having serious second thoughts about meeting the team later, when Rachel leans over an hooks her finger into the open top button of the jersey she’s wearing.
“Maybe we can get you a uniform,” Rachel whispers, and Santana’s mind is assaulted with images of the possibilities.
“I think we could pull that off,” Santana feigns nonchalance while Rachel simply laughs and goes back to watching the field.
//
Santana’s phone lights up in the sixth inning. The text is one word. Bitch.
“Guess Puck made it home and realized it was the Mets who were up by eight.”
Rachel’s phone beeps a second later.
“He called me a punk!” she pouts. “And he wants to know why I would gang up him.”
“Are you reminding him that’s what we do?” Santana cranes to get a look at Rachel’s phone.
“I told him it’s because I love you more,” Rachel says.
“You better, pintsize.”
//
Santana is on her second hotdog and fourth beer when things get really exciting in the bottom of the seventh. The Nationals reliever decides that it would be a good idea to pitch Carlos Beltran way inside. Santana agrees with the strategy because Beltran’s already hit a home run on the night, and the Nationals would probably like to escape without a double digit loss.
But then the third ball is high and inside, and it looks an awful lot like headhunting. Rachel clutches tightly to her arm when Beltran has to duck out of the way of the pitch.
Beltran takes two steps towards the mound and the benches clear. Even the pitchers run in from the bullpen. Santana’s immediately on her feet and trying to pull out her phone while Rachel is still latched on her arm. She wants pictures, but nothing more exciting than a group stare down occurs.
“Baseball players can be such pansies,” Santana says when it’s clear that her and the other fans’ shouting is not going to convince the players to do much more than posture. “We need to take you to a hockey game so you can see a real fight.”
“I’m learning to really like baseball,” Rachel says. “But I don’t know if hockey is a good sport for me. I don’t like watching people get hurt, and I get cold easily.”
“The seats aren’t on the ice. And I would keep you warm,” It’s one of the kinda sweet things she says that usually gets her some sort of affection from Rachel, but this time her attention is focused on the field when Beltran comes up to complete the at bat.
It’s nothing more than pop fly to shallow right field, but when the pitcher starts taunting, Beltran only makes it halfway to first base before he turns and charges the mound. The benches clear again, and this time pandemonium really does break loose.
//
“The one time I can’t make it to a game and a fight breaks out!”
Santana has to pull the phone away from her ear because Puck is shouting. She sees Rachel answer her phone and mouth Mike. Santana mouths Puck back while still holding the phone at a safe distance.
“Please tell me you at least got pictures,” Puck says once he’s done ranting.
“Better. Got the whole thing on video,” Santana says.
“You’re the best.”
“Yeah I am.”
“But you’re still a bitch.”
“True. At least you know better than to call Rachel the same. If she had gotten an identical text, I would have come over tonight to beat you up,” Santana says in complete seriousness.
“You think I’m a moron? Of course I know not to call Rachel that. First of all she isn’t one, and second you would kill me. Plus I had Mike help me come up with least offensive insult.”
“Good thing you have Mike around. You’re going to be helpless when he finally marries Britt, and you have to find a new roommate.”
“I’ll be fine. Mike’s been cramping my style for a while. I’m thinking of going solo.” Santana can picture Puck dusting off his shoulders as he talks.
“You have fun affording that,” Santana says. “Alright, I’m getting back to game.”
They exchange goodbyes, and Rachel has already finished her talk with Mike.
“Mike says we’re coming over for dinner soon, and he expects a complete reenactment of the brawl,” Rachel says. “Don’t worry. I had him commit to Puck being banned from the kitchen or we get takeout.”
“Sounds good to me. We can make Puck be the idiot pitcher, I’ll be Beltran, and you can be the Nationals catcher that jumps on my back,” Santana says already liking how the scene will play out.
“Why did he take off all his protective armor if he was going into the fight? That seems fairly counter-intuitive to me,” Rachel asked.
“It’s called gear. Catcher’s gear,” Santana corrects because they’re working hard on doing the sports thing right. “And I don’t know either.”
They settle back into their seats to watch the rest of the game, Rachel resting her head on Santana’s shoulder when she begins to fade.
//
The game ends without any more excitement. The last at bat for the Nationals looked like it might lead to something, although rushing the field twice seemed to be the limit for both teams.
Santana does her best to contain her excitement while they wait after game. The last thing she wants is to look like some baseball fangirl when she’s been hardcore about the sport since she was five and wanted to be on the Cincinnati Reds with Ken Griffey Jr.
They see the pitchers first because it’s Dickey who wants to meet Rachel.
Johan Santana turns out to be really cool, and she gets the obligatory picture with both of their backs turned showing off the matching jerseys. Not that she’s about to hyperventilate inside or anything.
Rachel draws quite a crowd and quickly charms them all. Santana doesn’t know if the laughter is coming from Rachel’s stories or her lack of baseball knowledge, but either way, the players seem to like her. Santana wouldn’t be surprised if the next show of Rachel’s that doesn’t overlap with a game has a row filled with the NY Mets. She’ll have to get Puck and Mike to crash the performance with her.
Santana’s getting an autograph from Jon Neise for Puck because he’s from Lima when Carlos Beltran gets there. She didn’t expect him to make an appearance with the need for press and whatnot, but there he is and he must see the expectant look on her face.
“You’re my fucking hero, man,” Santana says when he walks up to her. “I don’t know if I should salute you or buy you a beer, but you definitely deserve something for taking down that pitcher.”
They settle on shaking hands. “I’m glad you liked it. Just remember that it’s all PR when I go on record apologizing for my behavior tomorrow.”
She and Beltran hold out their fists and put on intimidating expressions for the first picture and then smile for the second. The first is the one she sends to Puck to make him even more jealous.
The players are starting to filter out when Santana makes it back to Rachel. She’s holding a signed baseball and a hat that would obviously swallow her head but has Dickey’s signature across the bill.
“Now I expect to meet your wife and children the next time you see a show of mine,” Rachel says, and Santana cannot wait to brag about her five foot nothing girlfriend giving orders to a professional baseball player.
//
The subway is nearly empty when they finally get on to go home. But before Santana can sit down Rachel slides her arms around her waist holds on tightly.
“What are you doing, Rach? There are seats we could be sitting in,” Santana instinctively grabs at the bar and clutches Rachel when the train jerks to a start.
“I know,” Rachel says into her chest, and she can’t help how the breath against her collarbone makes her shiver. “It’s just...”
“What?” Santana can see the uncertainty in Rachel expression so she tries to ask gently even though her feet are killing her and all she wants to do is sit down. “What is it? You know you can tell me.”
“One of my favorite things about going to baseball games is how you hold me and keep me safe on the subway on the way home,” Rachel says sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to miss that. But we can sit down if you want.”
Santana manages to simultaneously feel like a lottery winner and a complete jackass at Rachel’s words. Sometimes she has to wonder why Rachel puts up with someone as maladjusted as herself.
“Nope I’m good right here,” Santana tightens her hold on Rachel and drops a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks for going to the game with me.”
“Yeah?” Rachel asks and Santana nods. “Well thank you for letting me attend with you. I know you wanted Mike to come.”
Of course Rachel knows her well enough to have seen right through her. “I might have thought I wanted to go with Mike, but in retrospect you were the only one I wanted.”
It’s as sappy as she’s willing to get because they’re in public and it’s bad enough that she’s standing just because her girlfriend wants to snuggle. However, it’s not all bad when they change lines, and Rachel pulls her into a pair of seats in the corner and proceeds to make out with her all the way to their final stop.
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3,000ish
Pairing: Santana/Rachel, Puck. Mike
Summary: Santana and Rachel go to a NY Mets game together.
Author's Note: The first line is shamelessly stolen from a lynnearlington pezberry ficlet. Also my apologies for this getting more into the baseball end of things than I intended.
To be fair, Rachel is short and easily misplaced. Santana swears this is the last time she lets Rachel out of her sight at a Mets game because this isn’t even the first time she’s lost her at a sporting event.
And it’s a moment like this, when she’s trying to find her girlfriend, which makes her wish Mike could have taken the second ticket. Instead, Puck had to tell her he couldn’t get out of work in front of Rachel, and Santana has this really hard time saying no when Rachel puts on her expectant face.
It certainly isn’t Santana’s fault that Rachel had to go to a completely different concessions stand to get her veggie dog. She would have gone with her, but the stand closest to their section has Sam Adams Summer Ale on tap and she takes these things into account when buying tickets. She’s not going to shell out seven bucks for whatever crappy stuff is across the way.
And unfortunately they’re playing the Nationals, so it doesn’t help that entire sea of people are all decked out in their Mets attire without a single away fan in sight.
And now she’s trying not to spill their beers while searching for a tiny brunette in a blue t-shirt, classic fitted Mets cap, and a pair of shorts she was really appreciating not too long ago but currently aren’t doing her any good.
None of this would have been a problem if they had just gotten their food before the game like Santana had wanted when there was enough time to go to both stands. But Rachel had insisted on being in their seats early so they didn’t miss the National Anthem.
Santana doesn’t really see the point when Rachel is clearly better than whoever they got to open for a game versus the Nationals.
Santana’s about to give up because how lost can Rachel really get inside the stadium? Her girlfriend has her ticket and there are giant numbers everywhere, and they should have agreed to meet back at the seats anyway.
Right when Santana turns to go back to her section she hears Rachel’s laugh echoing across the concourse. The sound works like a homing beacon.
She sees Rachel, two braids trailing out of the back of her hat, talking with one of the security guards. He’s tall and burly, with a smoothly shaved head. The pair visually could not be more opposite, and the sight makes Santana shake her head in amusement.
“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Santana balances the holder with the drinks and hotdog in her left hand while she slides the right over Rachel’s shoulders. There’s no reason Rachel needs to know she was seconds away from returning to their seats and drinking both the beers.
“Oh, sorry. I got lost after I purchased my veggie dog so I had to stop and ask for help. It turns out Jared here saw my show last week with his wife and we began talking and...”
Santana tries not to make a habit of cutting Rachel off (unless it’s with her lips), but at the moment she’s missing the game and the food is getting unwieldy so she makes an exception.
“It’s fine. I mean we’re going to have to get you one of those little kid leashes and strap you to my arm. Or maybe one of those bear backpack-leash combos. I lose you way too much for my own comfort,” Santana says and she knows the indignant stop is coming. It's one of the things she loves best about goading Rachel.
Rachel doesn’t disappoint and even puts her free hand on her hip for good measure. “Jared, you’ll have to excuse my girlfriend, Santana. She frequently forgets her manners when I take her out in public.”
The security guard watches the exchange with raised eyebrows, and Santana’s not sure which of the two of them has him more amused.
“Santana, huh? Very appropriate name for a Mets fan,” the security guard says.
“Johan Santana is our favorite pitcher for obvious reasons,” Rachel says. “It’s not often that you can purchase a jersey with your own name on it.” Rachel turns Santana around to reveal that she’s wearing the pitcher’s jersey.
Santana’s had enough of being used as show-and-tell and grabs Rachel’s hand to take them back to their seats when Jared speaks up again.
“Just don’t let Dickey hear you say he’s your favorite when I take you back to meet everyone, ok?” he says.
Rachel makes a motion of zipping her mouth shout, and Santana asks, “Wait, what?”
“Oh yes, it seems as though R. A. Dickey is also a Broadway fan so Jared is certain he can get us back after the game to meet the team,” Rachel says like that isn’t something that should have been mentioned the moment Santana found her.
And just like that, losing Rachel actually becomes the highlight of the evening because it means they get stay and get introduced to the players. It makes sense that the quirky pitcher would like Broadway and give them this chance.
“You’ll have to wait a little while after the game is over. Reyes is in particular has a very specific post-game ritual that cannot be changed,” Jared says.
“Ooo, he’s you’re other favorite. The fast one right?” Rachel asks.
“Yes, our shortstop. I’m impressed,” Santana says, and Rachel beams at the praise.
“So I take it that’s a yes to meeting the players after?”
A delay should work perfectly because she and Rachel always have to walk to a different subway line with how packed it always gets after the game. This way they won’t have to fight the crowds.
“We would love to,” Santana says, and finally gets Rachel to move back towards their seats.
//
“You’re not mad at me are you?” Rachel asks once they’re back and watching.
“You just got us in to see the team after the game. How could I be mad at you?” Santana says.
“I know, but aside from that. I couldn’t find you, I made you miss some of the inning, and this was Puck’s ticket to begin with,” Rachel says.
“You worry too much. You know I was kidding about the leash thing right?” Santana asks and Rachel scoffs at her. “And why would I want to be sitting here with Puck when I could have my girlfriend next to me in really fabulous shorts so I can check out her legs anytime I want.”
“It’s true that Puck would not be able to pull these off as well as I do,” Rachel says looking down at her own legs while Santana continues to ogle them unabashedly.
Santana goes back on forth on what her favorite feature of Rachel’s is, but at the moment it is definitely her legs.
Santana’s interrupted by her phone buzzing. “Speak of the devil. Puck wants updates until he can make it home and catch the end on tv.”
“Don’t you dare think of sending him fake updates,” Rachel apparently knows what Santana’s smirk means as she types out a response to Puck.
“You know it would be perfect,” Santana gives Rachel the smile that she can’t resist.
Rachel stares her down but does give in. “Alright fine, but only if I get to send some too.”
“Of course,” Santana says. “He’s not going to believe me if we tell him the Nationals are dominating.”
//
“Hmm-mm,” Rachel hums appreciatively when the Mets take the field in the third.
“Think you could lust a little quieter. Some of us are trying to watch a game,” Santana says. She expects an affronted gasp and a denial, so she’s surprised when Rachel gives a simple no and keeps her eyes trained on the players warming up.
Now Santana is a little offended. She knows Rachel thinks she’s hot, but professional baseball players are stiff competition even for her.
“You do realize your girlfriend,” she makes sure to emphasize her title, “Is sitting right next to you.”
“You know I find baseball uniforms very attractive, and that I have a particular weakness for pinstripes as well,” Rachel says as if that should settle it.
Santana tries to not let her jealousy get the best of her and she’s having serious second thoughts about meeting the team later, when Rachel leans over an hooks her finger into the open top button of the jersey she’s wearing.
“Maybe we can get you a uniform,” Rachel whispers, and Santana’s mind is assaulted with images of the possibilities.
“I think we could pull that off,” Santana feigns nonchalance while Rachel simply laughs and goes back to watching the field.
//
Santana’s phone lights up in the sixth inning. The text is one word. Bitch.
“Guess Puck made it home and realized it was the Mets who were up by eight.”
Rachel’s phone beeps a second later.
“He called me a punk!” she pouts. “And he wants to know why I would gang up him.”
“Are you reminding him that’s what we do?” Santana cranes to get a look at Rachel’s phone.
“I told him it’s because I love you more,” Rachel says.
“You better, pintsize.”
//
Santana is on her second hotdog and fourth beer when things get really exciting in the bottom of the seventh. The Nationals reliever decides that it would be a good idea to pitch Carlos Beltran way inside. Santana agrees with the strategy because Beltran’s already hit a home run on the night, and the Nationals would probably like to escape without a double digit loss.
But then the third ball is high and inside, and it looks an awful lot like headhunting. Rachel clutches tightly to her arm when Beltran has to duck out of the way of the pitch.
Beltran takes two steps towards the mound and the benches clear. Even the pitchers run in from the bullpen. Santana’s immediately on her feet and trying to pull out her phone while Rachel is still latched on her arm. She wants pictures, but nothing more exciting than a group stare down occurs.
“Baseball players can be such pansies,” Santana says when it’s clear that her and the other fans’ shouting is not going to convince the players to do much more than posture. “We need to take you to a hockey game so you can see a real fight.”
“I’m learning to really like baseball,” Rachel says. “But I don’t know if hockey is a good sport for me. I don’t like watching people get hurt, and I get cold easily.”
“The seats aren’t on the ice. And I would keep you warm,” It’s one of the kinda sweet things she says that usually gets her some sort of affection from Rachel, but this time her attention is focused on the field when Beltran comes up to complete the at bat.
It’s nothing more than pop fly to shallow right field, but when the pitcher starts taunting, Beltran only makes it halfway to first base before he turns and charges the mound. The benches clear again, and this time pandemonium really does break loose.
//
“The one time I can’t make it to a game and a fight breaks out!”
Santana has to pull the phone away from her ear because Puck is shouting. She sees Rachel answer her phone and mouth Mike. Santana mouths Puck back while still holding the phone at a safe distance.
“Please tell me you at least got pictures,” Puck says once he’s done ranting.
“Better. Got the whole thing on video,” Santana says.
“You’re the best.”
“Yeah I am.”
“But you’re still a bitch.”
“True. At least you know better than to call Rachel the same. If she had gotten an identical text, I would have come over tonight to beat you up,” Santana says in complete seriousness.
“You think I’m a moron? Of course I know not to call Rachel that. First of all she isn’t one, and second you would kill me. Plus I had Mike help me come up with least offensive insult.”
“Good thing you have Mike around. You’re going to be helpless when he finally marries Britt, and you have to find a new roommate.”
“I’ll be fine. Mike’s been cramping my style for a while. I’m thinking of going solo.” Santana can picture Puck dusting off his shoulders as he talks.
“You have fun affording that,” Santana says. “Alright, I’m getting back to game.”
They exchange goodbyes, and Rachel has already finished her talk with Mike.
“Mike says we’re coming over for dinner soon, and he expects a complete reenactment of the brawl,” Rachel says. “Don’t worry. I had him commit to Puck being banned from the kitchen or we get takeout.”
“Sounds good to me. We can make Puck be the idiot pitcher, I’ll be Beltran, and you can be the Nationals catcher that jumps on my back,” Santana says already liking how the scene will play out.
“Why did he take off all his protective armor if he was going into the fight? That seems fairly counter-intuitive to me,” Rachel asked.
“It’s called gear. Catcher’s gear,” Santana corrects because they’re working hard on doing the sports thing right. “And I don’t know either.”
They settle back into their seats to watch the rest of the game, Rachel resting her head on Santana’s shoulder when she begins to fade.
//
The game ends without any more excitement. The last at bat for the Nationals looked like it might lead to something, although rushing the field twice seemed to be the limit for both teams.
Santana does her best to contain her excitement while they wait after game. The last thing she wants is to look like some baseball fangirl when she’s been hardcore about the sport since she was five and wanted to be on the Cincinnati Reds with Ken Griffey Jr.
They see the pitchers first because it’s Dickey who wants to meet Rachel.
Johan Santana turns out to be really cool, and she gets the obligatory picture with both of their backs turned showing off the matching jerseys. Not that she’s about to hyperventilate inside or anything.
Rachel draws quite a crowd and quickly charms them all. Santana doesn’t know if the laughter is coming from Rachel’s stories or her lack of baseball knowledge, but either way, the players seem to like her. Santana wouldn’t be surprised if the next show of Rachel’s that doesn’t overlap with a game has a row filled with the NY Mets. She’ll have to get Puck and Mike to crash the performance with her.
Santana’s getting an autograph from Jon Neise for Puck because he’s from Lima when Carlos Beltran gets there. She didn’t expect him to make an appearance with the need for press and whatnot, but there he is and he must see the expectant look on her face.
“You’re my fucking hero, man,” Santana says when he walks up to her. “I don’t know if I should salute you or buy you a beer, but you definitely deserve something for taking down that pitcher.”
They settle on shaking hands. “I’m glad you liked it. Just remember that it’s all PR when I go on record apologizing for my behavior tomorrow.”
She and Beltran hold out their fists and put on intimidating expressions for the first picture and then smile for the second. The first is the one she sends to Puck to make him even more jealous.
The players are starting to filter out when Santana makes it back to Rachel. She’s holding a signed baseball and a hat that would obviously swallow her head but has Dickey’s signature across the bill.
“Now I expect to meet your wife and children the next time you see a show of mine,” Rachel says, and Santana cannot wait to brag about her five foot nothing girlfriend giving orders to a professional baseball player.
//
The subway is nearly empty when they finally get on to go home. But before Santana can sit down Rachel slides her arms around her waist holds on tightly.
“What are you doing, Rach? There are seats we could be sitting in,” Santana instinctively grabs at the bar and clutches Rachel when the train jerks to a start.
“I know,” Rachel says into her chest, and she can’t help how the breath against her collarbone makes her shiver. “It’s just...”
“What?” Santana can see the uncertainty in Rachel expression so she tries to ask gently even though her feet are killing her and all she wants to do is sit down. “What is it? You know you can tell me.”
“One of my favorite things about going to baseball games is how you hold me and keep me safe on the subway on the way home,” Rachel says sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to miss that. But we can sit down if you want.”
Santana manages to simultaneously feel like a lottery winner and a complete jackass at Rachel’s words. Sometimes she has to wonder why Rachel puts up with someone as maladjusted as herself.
“Nope I’m good right here,” Santana tightens her hold on Rachel and drops a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks for going to the game with me.”
“Yeah?” Rachel asks and Santana nods. “Well thank you for letting me attend with you. I know you wanted Mike to come.”
Of course Rachel knows her well enough to have seen right through her. “I might have thought I wanted to go with Mike, but in retrospect you were the only one I wanted.”
It’s as sappy as she’s willing to get because they’re in public and it’s bad enough that she’s standing just because her girlfriend wants to snuggle. However, it’s not all bad when they change lines, and Rachel pulls her into a pair of seats in the corner and proceeds to make out with her all the way to their final stop.