FIC: the curve you thought was there (2/2)
the curve you thought was there, 2/2
See notes for warnings, etc.
Part 1
~
The knuckler
wobbling up to you
can dipsy-do4
~
It stayed light enough this time of year that even after cleaning up and talking to Jeff, it was still wasn't dark when they left the stadium. Jared assumed that this Ackles guy (he recognized the name vaguely, but didn't think they'd ever played together) would be in touch again - Jeff obviously knew and approved of him, so if the guy was serious about helping, he knew where to find Jared most days.
Chris offered to buy him a beer to celebrate their come-from-behind win, which owed no small part to Chris's two-RBI double in the eighth inning, so Jared climbed into his truck and off they went. He almost wished they had walked: the bar wasn't far from the stadium, and parking was limited.
When they got inside, Jared wondered if maybe the whole thing had been planned on Chris's part, because he looked around like he was searching for someone, and walked past a couple of perfectly good open barstools to get to a booth back by the pool tables.
"Chris Kane and Jared Padalecki, the men of the hour. Let me buy you a drink." The guy seated in the booth slid along the bench and out, standing to greet them. He was shorter than Jared, but that wasn't unusual. Dirty blond hair was a spiky crown above dark green eyes, high cheekbones, and a welcoming smile. When a waitress came by, he requested a couple more glasses and a refill of his pitcher.
"I'm Jensen. You know Sandy?" He gestured at the brunette across the table, who stood and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. Chris nodded, but Jared smiled and shook his head. He'd seen her around the ball field, knew she was part of the Bees organization, but they'd never been introduced.
"Don't run off on our account."
"I'm not. I promised my parents I'd stop by tonight after the game, and if I don't get there soon, they'll think the heathens are holding me ransom." She smiled brightly at Chris. "Congratulations. You're moving up on the all-time list."
Jared wasn't sure what she was talking about. Chris just nodded without expanding or explaining.
"Good to meet you, Jared. I'll see y'all at the field tomorrow."
"Well, have a seat."
Jared settled in the seat Sandy had vacated, with Chris next to him. When the new glasses arrived, Jensen filled them and pushed them across the table, and Jared sipped tentatively. He'd never been a big drinker-hard to be in a family as strict and devout as his-but he didn't see how a little bit of alcohol was the root of all evil, and he enjoyed trying new beers.
"So, Lehne not having much time for you?"
"Well, he's been working more with Donnelly."
Jensen nodded. The right-handed relief pitcher had required Tommy John surgery shortly after Jensen had, but his rehab was going far better.
"Your curveball got better with the elbow bend. You been trying a different grip on your fastball too, right? Trying to switch from two-seam to four?"
Jared was happy to discuss the finer details of pitching with pretty much anyone who appreciated the art. Chris, on the other hand, got crankier and crankier, which Jared thought was weird. He was usually pretty even tempered, and he could talk about the history of baseball and different sports philosophies for hours. Instead of joining in, he stayed mostly silent, casting frowns that seemed… disapproving, almost at Jensen. That was another peculiar thing: Jared could tell that the two of them knew each other, and he was getting an odd vibe, like there was a lot of unresolved tension between them.
Now, Jared could admit that he felt maybe a tiny bit of hero worship for Christian Kane. Not that Chris acted like he expected it or anything; he was a cool guy on the field, in the locker room, and for sharing a hotel room on the road. But like Tommy, Chris had played in the majors. He'd cranked homers off Pedro, caught for Eric Gagne and Derek Lowe, made it to the playoffs: the NLCS and the World Series. So it felt weird to be critical of the way Chris was acting toward this perfectly friendly guy who'd helped him out that afternoon.
Jared almost spat out his beer when Chris finally spoke again. "If all this effort is just to get laid by a team member, you shouldn't put yourself out… Jennie."
Whoa, whoa! Where had that come from? Jared looked from Chris to Jensen, shocked.
For an endless moment Jensen studied Chris like he was something he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Finally he took a sip from his beer.
"I don't need to kiss somebody's ass to fuck it, thanks. We're just having a friendly conversation. I'm offering to help, as one former pitcher to another. "
"Help. Sure. Is that what they're calling Baseball Annies these days?"
Yeah, Jared was feeling uncomfortable and clueless, wishing he understood more of the history between these two.
"Look, I okayed this with Jeff. He's busy with the managerial duties being more than he expected, and for whatever reason, Lehne's not working out so well. So if Jared doesn't mind I don't see what your problem is."
And Jared definitely didn't mind. Hell, he was willing to soak up any knowledge that would help him get better. Innings like the early ones today made him seriously question whether he'd made the right decision to try pro ball.
"I'd think you'd appreciate that, since a good pitcher owes a lot to the catcher who calls the games. It's not like I'm going to make him wear a garter belt or breathe through his eyelids or some stupid shit." Jared grinned at the mental image that provoked, of Kevin Costner or Susan Sarandon snapping a bit of lace around Tim Robbins' hips.
"I find it hard to believe that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart, is all."
Cynical much? Chris had been in the system way too long, with that attitude.
"What would you believe, then?"
"I could give you a speech like Costner would about what I believe, and about what's right and wrong, but I won't. Jared's a big boy; he can make this decision for himself." Chris stood abruptly. "See you at the park tomorrow, Jarhead."
And just like that he was gone. Jared sat there staring at Jensen, wondering about the unspoken part of the confrontation that he'd obviously missed.
"C'mon. Finish your beer and I'll drop you home. I can show you a trick to the four-seamer tomorrow if you want."
~
The screwball
an ironic twist
hits your fist4
~
So, yeah, Chris knew he had been an ass. There was no reason for his rudeness, or at least none that he wanted to verbalize. He didn't apologize, and Jared didn't say anything about Jensen, but over the next weeks, Chris saw gradual changes in his pitching stance and his fastball, and his curve started dropping more sharply, where he wanted it instead of three feet in front of the plate.
The changes were all for the better, and they brought a corresponding drop in their opponents' number of runs scored. The success was contagious, pumping the other players' confidence.
In some folks, this might have caused some ego swelling. But for Jared, it didn't seem to make a difference. The only thing Chris really noticed was that the kid became more and more determined to master each new trick he was shown. Sometimes he was so damn stubborn and hardheaded. Not that he was arrogant with it. He never brushed off Chris's calls if Chris insisted. But he wanted to try the new pitches as soon as possible, and there were some afternoons, days where he wasn't starting, that he'd be at the field before the starting pitcher, tossing practice pitches, working on his grip or his stance or holding runners and shifting into his windup, which he still preferred to the set position.
If Chris noticed that Jensen came to most games, often with Sophia but sometimes alone, he never commented on it. And he didn't say anything on the occasions that Jared declined to join him and some of the other guys at Spanky's. He figured he knew where the kid was enjoying his post-game celebrations.
~
The sinker
comes as a surprise:
it dies4
~
Salt Lake Bees 3, Nashville Sounds 1
Salt Lake Bees 4, Nashville Sounds 2
Nashville Sounds 1, Salt Lake Bees 0
Iowa Cubs 6, Salt Lake Bees 5
Salt Lake Bees 4, Iowa Cubs 2
Salt Lake Bees 2, Iowa Cubs 1
Round Rock Express 7, Salt Lake Bees 2
Round Rock Express 3, Salt Lake Bees 3
Salt Lake Bees 1, New Orleans Zephyr 0
Salt Lake Bees 3, New Orleans Zephyr 1
New Orleans Zephyr 3, Salt Lake Bees 1
Salt Lake Bees 5, New Orleans Zephyr 3
Memphis Redbirds 1, Salt Lake Bees 0
Salt Lake Bees 8, Memphis Redbirds 1
Salt Lake Bees 3, Memphis Redbirds 2
~
The let-up pitch
you can't resist?
you missed4
~
"So, Chris wasn't kidding, was he? When he said you do girls and guys?"
Jensen froze, the DVR remote in his hand, the slow-motion analysis of Roger Clemens's post-delivery stance forgotten. A month and a half had passed, and since Jared hadn't mentioned Chris's insult, he'd assumed he hadn't cared; it was irrelevant to their relationship, which was firmly on a friendly level that wasn't quite student/teacher, but wasn't quite casual.
"Um, yeah. I mean, no, he wasn't lying."
"You and him…?" Jared waved his hands expressively.
"No, I dated a friend of his back when I was in L.A." And Jensen was going to kill Chris for bringing this up.
"How'd you know that you were…?" His hands made a flip-flopping gesture again.
Was he kidding? How could he NOT know? Then Jensen realized that after growing up in small-town Utah, where the LDS church controlled pretty much everything, and homosexuality was an unmentionable evil, Jared was probably serious. And seriously clueless.
"When I realized I wanted to blow the captain of the basketball team as much as I wanted to screw the head cheerleader, I got clued in."
"Oh."
Jensen thought that was the end of it. He was about to comment about Clemens's foot placement on the edge of the mound - completely unrelated to the sexuality part of the conversation, but an admirable effort at bringing them back on track - when Jared shifted closer, leaning into Jensen's space and laying a kiss on his lips.
Apparently Jensen's continued surprise was interpreted as an invitation, and Jared pressed closer, sliding an arm around Jensen's shoulders and licking tentatively at the seam of closed lips. Without thought, Jensen opened to the pressure, responding it. When he realized what he was doing, he jerked back, out of Jared's embrace, and stood up.
"Don't you-" Those puppy-dog eyes should be illegal.
"Look, you don't want to go there." He might, really, but Jensen was fairly certain that Jared hadn't thought this all the way through.
"Yes I do! I've thought about it ever since that first night at the bar."
Jensen was tempted. Seriously tempted. There'd been nobody except the occasional night with Sophia for close to a year, and Jared's hot-factor (because, yeah, Jensen would have to be blind to notice; he just had lots of practice at shoving that sort of thought about teammates out of his mind) would totally overcome his inexperience. But he knew that experimentation like that could only lead to problems. He knew what Jared's teammates would say if they knew or thought he was leading Jared astray; their disgust wouldn't only be for Jensen, though. People could talk about equality all they wanted; none of the macho men in professional sports wanted to share a locker room with a gay teammate. Jensen had never flaunted his behavior, always kept his orientation quiet for that very reason.
For Jared it could be worse: his contract was only for this season. His agent was banking on this being Jared's breakout year, and he would have an absolute cow if rumors started circulating before Jared had a chance to show his skills in the major leagues. There was nothing like whispers about being queer to make you unwelcome in the clubhouse; even steroid use was considered less of a black mark.
Not to mention the repercussions with Jared's family and his church should anyone find out. It was one thing not to go on a mission and become a responsible elder; it was something else entirely to be excommunicated.
Jensen tried to explain all that, but he could see that it wasn't doing much good. He cursed Jared's latent stubbornness, which usually showed itself when he wanted something that was proving more difficult to attain than he'd expected.
How strong was a man supposed to be? Jensen wondered.
He tried every argument that he could think of, including the idea that all of Jared's energy should be channeled into pitching. Now that the season was going so well, he didn't want to jinx it, or to lose momentum. He was sure that Crash Davis, Annie Savoy, and Nuke LaLoosh would have laughed out loud at that excuse, but it was his last ditch effort. And finally something appeared to be getting through to Jared.
"You think I'm not really interested, and if you put me off, I'll forget it."
Well, yes.
"If you're still interested by the time the All-Star break rolls around… that's a month away. I'll think about it." With his upstairs brain. His downstairs brain was telling him that this was a great idea. "You'll have some time off, and we can discuss it then."
And if he forgot about it or changed his mind? Jensen could deal with that, probably more easily than dealing with the way he felt right now, which was as if he were living up to Chris's accusation.
~
I got fire in my eye
And tobacco in my jaw!5
~
Someone was banging on Chris's door when he got out of the shower.
"Hold your damn horses, I'm comin'!"
He was still rubbing his hair dry with a towel when he unlocked the door. The door flew back, and he had just enough time to jerk out of the way before Jensen was shouldering his way into the room.
"What the fuck, man? What have you been telling Jared?" Jensen looked pissed.
"What?" Chris let the towel drop onto his shoulder, ignoring the drips of water sliding down his neck and back.
"I asked, what have you been telling Jared about me?"
"Nothing, dude. We don't talk about you at all. What's got you so bent out of shape?"
Jensen just stood there for a moment, then stalked forward. Chris backed up until the door jam was against his back.
"He wanted to know about being gay. Bisexual. Whatever." Jensen leaned forward, into Chris's personal space. "You never mentioned anything about that again? Right."
Whoa, what? Choir-boy Jared was looking for tutorials in more than throwing a baseball? Chris's stomach rolled, and he wasn't sure if he was upset that the kid was endangering his career, or if it was that he was looking for advice from Jensen.
"I never mentioned anything. Never even mentioned Steve. Nothing except what I said the night you met him."
"Uh-huh. Sure. And that's all it took to get him to kiss me?"
Kiss him?
The stomach-clenching was back again, worse this time, and before Chris realized what he was doing, he was twisting, shoving Jensen back against the door and holding him there, tempted to wipe any memory of Jared's kiss out of Jensen's mind. Wide green eyes stared at him in surprise, and then ire fired them again.
"You hypocrite." It was a whisper. "All this time I thought you were being a protective ass, you were just jealous."
Stung, Chris stepped back, let his hands fall to his sides.
"It isn't like that. It was never like that."
"No? Does Steve know that?"
"Steve knows everything, I'm sure. Whether or not I've ever said it aloud."
Chris turned his back on Jensen, slumped onto the half-sized sofa that occupied the living area of his efficiency. He pressed his hands to his forehead, trying to ease the headache that had appeared out of nowhere. He only looked up when he heard the click of the door closing and footsteps on the concrete outside.
~
the high fly ball,
arches out above left field6
~
Salt Lake Bees 4, Colorado Springs Sky Box 3
Salt Lake Bees 4, Colorado Springs Sky Box 3
Colorado Springs Sky Box 2, Salt Lake Bees 1
Omaha Royals 4, Salt Lake Bees 3
Omaha Royals 3, Salt Lake Bees 2
Salt Lake Bees 5, Albuquerque Isotopes 1
Salt Lake Bees 7, Albuquerque Isotopes 3
Salt Lake Bees 2, Albuquerque Isotopes 0
Las Vegas 51s 2, Salt Lake Bees 1
Salt Lake Bees 1, Las Vegas 51s 0
Salt Lake Bees 4, Las Vegas 51s 1
Salt Lake Bees 10, Tuscon Sidewinders 3
Tuscon Sidewinders 4, Salt Lake Bees 0
Salt Lake Bees 5, Tuscon Sidewinders 2
~
then hold, fixed and dumb
as the ball drops
down and down, a dead bird
into a waiting glove6
~
Jensen would be lying if he said he forgot about his promise to Jared. It was nearly impossible: he could almost feel Jared's anticipation, and he knew he hadn't forgotten or changed his mind. He also knew that no matter what was going on with Chris, to whom he hadn't spoken since their confrontation, he wasn't so high-minded as to turn Jared down. Jensen was a guy; Jared was hot and appeared willing; were there any doubts about the outcome?
He tried to distract himself with the summer seminar he'd registered for, Economic Systems of Latin America, but the whole thing just made him sick and disgusted, and he had to stop thinking and reading about American foreign policy and its effects on foreign economies. Instead, he spent more time hiking and biking with Sophia, sometimes with Chad et al., sometimes just the two of them.
One night after a long trek out on the salt flats, they got drunk and ended up in her bed. Afterward, Jensen lay there, looking up at the ceiling, wondering how perfectly good sex could make him feel like he had done something wrong. He was still trying to work it out in his head when Sophia whispered, "I think maybe we shouldn't do this anymore."
He turned his head and watched as she slid a t-shirt and boxers on, then climbed back into bed.
"I think maybe you're right." He reached out, and she settled back into the curve of his arm.
"Chad?"
"We… yeah. A couple of nights ago. Didn't stop him from bringing some random bar chick home the next night, though."
"I'm sorry, Soph." And he was, more than he could express. He pressed a kiss to her temple and held her long after she had fallen asleep.
~
and there you have it: the song,
the flight, the perilous whisper of truth
or of love or possibly of faith6
~
The Angels called Jared up to the majors the week before the All-Star break. Jensen knew it before Jared did; Sandy called and gave him the heads-up. When Jensen arrived at the stadium for the evening's game, there was a hushed air of anticipation. Even though Jared wasn't pitching that night, most of the players knew this would be his last time sharing the bench with them. For a while, anyway, if things went well.
Jensen spent the game feeling the oddest mixture of happiness and relief. He was thrilled that Jared was getting this chance, and a bit proud of the role, however small, that he'd played in it. And while some small sex-starved part of his brain might have regretted that the organization hadn't waited a week to make this decision, he knew it was probably for the better.
After the game, he joined Jared and Jeff in the dugout. Chris was nowhere to be seen. Jensen supposed he'd already headed to the locker room to get cleaned up; he'd had a good slide into second base late in the eighth inning, one that had crusted clay dust in his hair, under his nails, and down his pants.
Jeff and Jensen were drilling Jared on things to remember, things to highlight in interviews, and what not to say at the press conference, when Sandy joined them, looking unhappy.
It looked like Jared wasn't the only person who would be relocating. Only for Chris, it wouldn't be back to L.A.
~
then the descent
and the end of the game6
~
Chris knew that he would be traded, he just wasn't sure where. The trade deadline was approaching, and his major reason for being here, polishing the rookie, had gone.
So. The Brewers. His agent told him they wanted him, and then he received a call from the Milwaukee player management office telling him that they would send him to Nashville, their minor league team, immediately. Chris figured that was the end of his season right there.
He planted himself at the bar at Zephyr. The place was only half-full when he arrived, and the mournful blues playing over the sound system fitted Chris's dejected mood. As the evening wore on, the crowd grew, and Chris felt anonymous, forgotten. He wasn't sure how much he'd had to drink, but it wasn't nearly enough. Stupid liquor laws, only allowing one drink per person at a time. He was draped over a slim blonde with short-cropped hair and hard eyes when Jen finally found him. Jensen poured him into the backseat of his car, then lugged him into his house and tossed him onto a blessedly soft bed. Somebody fumbled with his belt buckle and tugged his boots off, but Chris was too miserable and too dizzy to care. He closed his eyes. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he would thank Jen and be on his way, he swore.
Jensen's softly chuckled, "Sure you will, Chris," was the last thing he heard before he passed out.
Chris woke with a surprisingly clear head - maybe those drinking laws made a little bit of sense after all - but a seriously dry mouth. As in, as parched as the desert that lay to the west of the lake. He rolled out of bed and stumbled out to the living room, where Jensen was frowning at Soledad O'Brien as she joked with the CNN weather reporter. Dry, dry, and dry out here in the intermountain west today.
"G'morning, sunshine."
A grunt was all Chris could produce in response. Jensen got up and headed to the kitchen, where he pulled a bottle of aspirin and a glass from the cupboard and a pitcher of water from the fridge. Chris filled the glass and gulped it down, tossing back a couple of aspirins with the last mouthful, then pouring a second glass and drinking it too.
Jensen just stood there, watching. Chris felt a bit like a zoo exhibit-observe, the human male's ability to behave like a jerk-and he couldn't quite figure out what to say. An apology, yes, and some thanks were in order. Normally Chris's mouth ran a mile a minute, and was a good ten minutes ahead of his brain. But he stood there, mute, awkward, uncomfortably aware that he reeked of smoke and stale beer and had yesterday's clothes on.
"If you don't mind that they're probably a bit long, I've got some sweats. You can shower and change, and I'll take you back to your truck."
So, maybe the man was psychic? Or maybe Chris just looked that uncomfortable? Whichever. He would be happy to get these jeans off.
Hot water, with blessedly strong pressure, relaxed muscles Chris hadn't realized were tight. It felt good to be clean, to wash away the wallowing self-pity he'd allowed himself last night. He dried and dressed, pondering the illicit, oddly intimate thrill he felt from wearing Jensen's clothes, even after sleeping in his bed.
When he couldn't put it off any longer, he returned to the kitchen.
"Thank you. Seriously."
"No problem. We all need some support sometimes."
Jensen seemed willing to leave it at that. He handed Chris a mug of coffee, but Chris set it down and crowded into Jensen's personal space, pushing him against the counter. He gave him all the time in the world to move away, to resist, before he slid both hands around Jensen's neck and tugged Jensen down to press their lips together lightly. After a brief hesitation, Jensen relaxed and leaned into it.
Toothpaste from the finger-brushing he'd done clashed with Jensen's coffee, but Chris didn't care, because underneath that the kiss was Jensen-flavored, and that was what Chris had been wanting for days, weeks. Maybe even longer, if he was honest with himself.
Some time later, Jensen twisted so their positions were reversed, lifting Chris up onto the edge of the counter and hovering just out of reach, not quite occupying the vee of empty space between Chris's spread legs.
"Is this okay?"
Chris just hooked his legs around Jensen's and tugged him closer, bringing Jensen's mouth back where he wanted it.
~
then the curve ball and the dying quail7
~
Jensen was working on his bike when Chris stumbled out of the bedroom the second time. The last excursion to Rock Cliff and the Jordanelle Reservoir had left him and the bike caked with mud. He'd rinsed the frame and wheels with the hose, but the chain needed cleaning, and he wanted to check that the derailleur hadn't suffered from some of the dead leaves and detritus they'd plowed through. He had the bike on a stand on the porch, the chain off and rear wheel loosened from its fork, when he realized he had an audience. Chris slouched against the wall by the door, smirking. A pair of loose cotton pants was clinging precariously to his hips and his chest was bare.
"You're good with your hands."
"Is that a compliment? You sound surprised."
Chris's smile, if anything, became even more wicked. "Not in the least."
Jensen wasn't sure if he should be flattered or embarrassed. A mix of both emotions had color riding his cheekbones, and, suddenly shy, he ducked his head and involved himself in cleaning and lubing his bike chain.
Chris must have decided to take pity on him, because instead of pursuing that line of thought, he asked, "Where's the next ride?"
"Chad suggested the Union Pacific Rail Trail up near Park City. It depends on his work schedule, though. We need to get there bright and early to finish that trail before it gets too hot, so if he's got an early shift Saturday, we'll probably go somewhere else. Or wait until Sunday."
"You ever do that sort of biking before you moved here?"
"I had a bike as a kid, but I never did anything like the mountain biking you can do here. No mountains or anything in Dallas or Houston, you know? And once I'd signed with the Angels, the no-extreme-sports clause in my contract kept me from skiing and mountain biking." Jensen shrugged easily. "Understandable, really. Nobody wants their prime investment breaking a leg or an arm and putting themselves out of commission for an entire season because of a stupid bike ride. Baseball's hard enough on the body."
When Chris didn't reply, Jensen looked up to find his darkened gaze firmly focused on his hands, which were now gently working lubricant onto the chain's links. He finished rubbing the length down, slowly, deliberately, before setting the chain back in place and turning the pedal, watching the gears catch and mesh smoothly. He didn't even pretend to clean off his hands when he rose out of his crouched position. Still Chris watched without speaking.
His fingers left a light trail when he slid them across Chris's stomach, but Chris didn't object. He twined his own with them, spreading the lube (with "metal friction resistance", whatever the hell that was; at the moment Jensen really didn't care) between their palms before dragging Jensen back inside.
~
the winning run sliding home 7
~
"I'm groovin' on the inside with wasted Jensen…"
"Shut it, man. I fuckin' hate this song." He didn't really. Jensen was trying not to slur his words and make the lyrics true. Could he help it if he had such a low tolerance for alcohol? Usually four beers was his limit.
Chris just smiled and hummed along with the music coming out of Jen's stereo. They'd muted ESPN and set the iPod docking station on shuffle, and spread their take out from Bangkok Express on the coffee table. The food was long gone, as was most of the twelve-pack of beer, and Baseball Tonight was long since forgotten.
"Soon I'm gonna tell him that he's driving me crazy…"
Well, Jensen didn't mind making that part of the song happen. With the determination and flexibility of the seriously buzzed, he untwisted himself from his position on the floor, climbed into Chris's lap, and set about it.
~
Hitting is timing. Pitching is upsetting timing.8
~
Jensen woke Monday morning to silence. He knew he was alone before he even opened his eyes. There was a note on the nightstand, a filled mug its paperweight. The coffee was still warm.
I took one of your travel mugs. Don't break anything irreplaceable during your next jaunt up the mountains with Sophia and Chad. -CK
The rest of the season just wasn't the same. Jensen still went to the Bees' games, still kept track of the fielders and pitchers, still met Sandy at the Bayou afterward for a drink, but without Jared and Chris on the field, something had changed. Jensen knew how they were doing - he followed the Nashville Sound online, because he couldn't listen to their games on the radio except when Salt Lake was the visiting team - and he knew when Chris overtook Joe Bauman with the most RBIs in minor-league baseball history. He half-wondered if Chris would pull a Crash Davis, quit once he had that record. But he didn't hear from Chris, and he told himself that he wasn't disappointed when there was no-one waiting on his porch when he rolled his bike home from the public library the next few nights.
No, he didn't hear a peep from Chris, but suddenly Steve was calling and emailing more frequently. Jensen was amused; he hadn't spoken to Steve that often when they were dating. He wasn't sure if Steve's sudden attentiveness was at Chris's request or just because Steve knew Chris and Jensen that well. He hoped this was a positive development.
He spent a fair amount of time arguing with Sophia about the TAU's priorities (completely subsidized health care or tuition reimbursement?) and expanding his senior thesis from college into the research that he hoped would earn his Masters degree: the economic implications of signing a professional sports contract out of high school versus after college. Sophia spent a few evenings not admitting she was crying on Jensen's shoulder before she finally lost her temper and slapped Chad, which apparently knocked some sense into the bastard. Jensen hoped it stuck, for all of their sakes.
By the time the regular season ended for the minor leagues, Milwaukee was the clear winner in the National League Wild Card race, and with the arrival of the post-season, they expanded their roster, bringing Chris up from Nashville. Jensen turned on the satellite TV and saw Chris sitting in the dugout in a Brewers uniform, and wondered if Chris would ever be back.
When the game switched to commercial, Jensen turned to FSN, where he was treated to the sight of Jared smiling at Leslie Visser.
He, Jensen, had been a part of what helped Jared reach his goal. That was something that Jensen knew he should be proud of. He thought about that, about the satisfaction he was getting from organizing and participating in the TAU's collective bargaining committee, and wondered if maybe he wouldn't mind doing something similar for baseball players. Maybe the front office of some major league team wasn't where he wanted to be after all.
~
If a tie is like kissing your sister, losing is like kissing your grandmother with her teeth out.9
~
The Milwaukee Brewers lost the NLCS to St. Louis.
Jensen watched the last game to the end, and then turned off the television.
His phone didn't ring.
~
Baseball has the great advantage over cricket of being sooner ended.10
~
Two days later, when Chad dropped him off, exhausted after a day-long trip up Little Cottonwood Canyon, Chris was waiting on his porch.
"Hey."
"Hey. Sorry about the Cards."
"None of us in the dugout were surprised."
Jensen unlocked the front door and waved Chris inside. Chris dropped his bag at the end of the sofa, but didn't sit down.
"I… I think I might be done. I'm not gonna look for a contract for next year. If I get one, that's great. If not…"
"No?" Jensen perched on the edge of the sofa. He wasn't nervous, exactly. He just wanted to be prepared for whatever was coming.
"Steve asked if maybe I want to start recording. We've kicked around the idea for years, but it never went anywhere 'cause I was always going somewhere: pre-season, post-season, off-season commitments."
"You don't have any commitments now, I guess."
Chris sat down next to Jensen, crowding him against the arm of the sofa.
"I wouldn't say I don't have any commitments. And don't think Steve doesn't know it."
Jensen allowed himself to settle against Chris's side.
He was fine with this, just fine, because next season was more than six months away. Anything could happen by then.
Fin.
Feedback = love
See notes for warnings, etc.
Part 1
~
The knuckler
wobbling up to you
can dipsy-do4
~
It stayed light enough this time of year that even after cleaning up and talking to Jeff, it was still wasn't dark when they left the stadium. Jared assumed that this Ackles guy (he recognized the name vaguely, but didn't think they'd ever played together) would be in touch again - Jeff obviously knew and approved of him, so if the guy was serious about helping, he knew where to find Jared most days.
Chris offered to buy him a beer to celebrate their come-from-behind win, which owed no small part to Chris's two-RBI double in the eighth inning, so Jared climbed into his truck and off they went. He almost wished they had walked: the bar wasn't far from the stadium, and parking was limited.
When they got inside, Jared wondered if maybe the whole thing had been planned on Chris's part, because he looked around like he was searching for someone, and walked past a couple of perfectly good open barstools to get to a booth back by the pool tables.
"Chris Kane and Jared Padalecki, the men of the hour. Let me buy you a drink." The guy seated in the booth slid along the bench and out, standing to greet them. He was shorter than Jared, but that wasn't unusual. Dirty blond hair was a spiky crown above dark green eyes, high cheekbones, and a welcoming smile. When a waitress came by, he requested a couple more glasses and a refill of his pitcher.
"I'm Jensen. You know Sandy?" He gestured at the brunette across the table, who stood and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. Chris nodded, but Jared smiled and shook his head. He'd seen her around the ball field, knew she was part of the Bees organization, but they'd never been introduced.
"Don't run off on our account."
"I'm not. I promised my parents I'd stop by tonight after the game, and if I don't get there soon, they'll think the heathens are holding me ransom." She smiled brightly at Chris. "Congratulations. You're moving up on the all-time list."
Jared wasn't sure what she was talking about. Chris just nodded without expanding or explaining.
"Good to meet you, Jared. I'll see y'all at the field tomorrow."
"Well, have a seat."
Jared settled in the seat Sandy had vacated, with Chris next to him. When the new glasses arrived, Jensen filled them and pushed them across the table, and Jared sipped tentatively. He'd never been a big drinker-hard to be in a family as strict and devout as his-but he didn't see how a little bit of alcohol was the root of all evil, and he enjoyed trying new beers.
"So, Lehne not having much time for you?"
"Well, he's been working more with Donnelly."
Jensen nodded. The right-handed relief pitcher had required Tommy John surgery shortly after Jensen had, but his rehab was going far better.
"Your curveball got better with the elbow bend. You been trying a different grip on your fastball too, right? Trying to switch from two-seam to four?"
Jared was happy to discuss the finer details of pitching with pretty much anyone who appreciated the art. Chris, on the other hand, got crankier and crankier, which Jared thought was weird. He was usually pretty even tempered, and he could talk about the history of baseball and different sports philosophies for hours. Instead of joining in, he stayed mostly silent, casting frowns that seemed… disapproving, almost at Jensen. That was another peculiar thing: Jared could tell that the two of them knew each other, and he was getting an odd vibe, like there was a lot of unresolved tension between them.
Now, Jared could admit that he felt maybe a tiny bit of hero worship for Christian Kane. Not that Chris acted like he expected it or anything; he was a cool guy on the field, in the locker room, and for sharing a hotel room on the road. But like Tommy, Chris had played in the majors. He'd cranked homers off Pedro, caught for Eric Gagne and Derek Lowe, made it to the playoffs: the NLCS and the World Series. So it felt weird to be critical of the way Chris was acting toward this perfectly friendly guy who'd helped him out that afternoon.
Jared almost spat out his beer when Chris finally spoke again. "If all this effort is just to get laid by a team member, you shouldn't put yourself out… Jennie."
Whoa, whoa! Where had that come from? Jared looked from Chris to Jensen, shocked.
For an endless moment Jensen studied Chris like he was something he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Finally he took a sip from his beer.
"I don't need to kiss somebody's ass to fuck it, thanks. We're just having a friendly conversation. I'm offering to help, as one former pitcher to another. "
"Help. Sure. Is that what they're calling Baseball Annies these days?"
Yeah, Jared was feeling uncomfortable and clueless, wishing he understood more of the history between these two.
"Look, I okayed this with Jeff. He's busy with the managerial duties being more than he expected, and for whatever reason, Lehne's not working out so well. So if Jared doesn't mind I don't see what your problem is."
And Jared definitely didn't mind. Hell, he was willing to soak up any knowledge that would help him get better. Innings like the early ones today made him seriously question whether he'd made the right decision to try pro ball.
"I'd think you'd appreciate that, since a good pitcher owes a lot to the catcher who calls the games. It's not like I'm going to make him wear a garter belt or breathe through his eyelids or some stupid shit." Jared grinned at the mental image that provoked, of Kevin Costner or Susan Sarandon snapping a bit of lace around Tim Robbins' hips.
"I find it hard to believe that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart, is all."
Cynical much? Chris had been in the system way too long, with that attitude.
"What would you believe, then?"
"I could give you a speech like Costner would about what I believe, and about what's right and wrong, but I won't. Jared's a big boy; he can make this decision for himself." Chris stood abruptly. "See you at the park tomorrow, Jarhead."
And just like that he was gone. Jared sat there staring at Jensen, wondering about the unspoken part of the confrontation that he'd obviously missed.
"C'mon. Finish your beer and I'll drop you home. I can show you a trick to the four-seamer tomorrow if you want."
~
The screwball
an ironic twist
hits your fist4
~
So, yeah, Chris knew he had been an ass. There was no reason for his rudeness, or at least none that he wanted to verbalize. He didn't apologize, and Jared didn't say anything about Jensen, but over the next weeks, Chris saw gradual changes in his pitching stance and his fastball, and his curve started dropping more sharply, where he wanted it instead of three feet in front of the plate.
The changes were all for the better, and they brought a corresponding drop in their opponents' number of runs scored. The success was contagious, pumping the other players' confidence.
In some folks, this might have caused some ego swelling. But for Jared, it didn't seem to make a difference. The only thing Chris really noticed was that the kid became more and more determined to master each new trick he was shown. Sometimes he was so damn stubborn and hardheaded. Not that he was arrogant with it. He never brushed off Chris's calls if Chris insisted. But he wanted to try the new pitches as soon as possible, and there were some afternoons, days where he wasn't starting, that he'd be at the field before the starting pitcher, tossing practice pitches, working on his grip or his stance or holding runners and shifting into his windup, which he still preferred to the set position.
If Chris noticed that Jensen came to most games, often with Sophia but sometimes alone, he never commented on it. And he didn't say anything on the occasions that Jared declined to join him and some of the other guys at Spanky's. He figured he knew where the kid was enjoying his post-game celebrations.
~
The sinker
comes as a surprise:
it dies4
~
Salt Lake Bees 3, Nashville Sounds 1
Salt Lake Bees 4, Nashville Sounds 2
Nashville Sounds 1, Salt Lake Bees 0
Iowa Cubs 6, Salt Lake Bees 5
Salt Lake Bees 4, Iowa Cubs 2
Salt Lake Bees 2, Iowa Cubs 1
Round Rock Express 7, Salt Lake Bees 2
Round Rock Express 3, Salt Lake Bees 3
Salt Lake Bees 1, New Orleans Zephyr 0
Salt Lake Bees 3, New Orleans Zephyr 1
New Orleans Zephyr 3, Salt Lake Bees 1
Salt Lake Bees 5, New Orleans Zephyr 3
Memphis Redbirds 1, Salt Lake Bees 0
Salt Lake Bees 8, Memphis Redbirds 1
Salt Lake Bees 3, Memphis Redbirds 2
~
The let-up pitch
you can't resist?
you missed4
~
"So, Chris wasn't kidding, was he? When he said you do girls and guys?"
Jensen froze, the DVR remote in his hand, the slow-motion analysis of Roger Clemens's post-delivery stance forgotten. A month and a half had passed, and since Jared hadn't mentioned Chris's insult, he'd assumed he hadn't cared; it was irrelevant to their relationship, which was firmly on a friendly level that wasn't quite student/teacher, but wasn't quite casual.
"Um, yeah. I mean, no, he wasn't lying."
"You and him…?" Jared waved his hands expressively.
"No, I dated a friend of his back when I was in L.A." And Jensen was going to kill Chris for bringing this up.
"How'd you know that you were…?" His hands made a flip-flopping gesture again.
Was he kidding? How could he NOT know? Then Jensen realized that after growing up in small-town Utah, where the LDS church controlled pretty much everything, and homosexuality was an unmentionable evil, Jared was probably serious. And seriously clueless.
"When I realized I wanted to blow the captain of the basketball team as much as I wanted to screw the head cheerleader, I got clued in."
"Oh."
Jensen thought that was the end of it. He was about to comment about Clemens's foot placement on the edge of the mound - completely unrelated to the sexuality part of the conversation, but an admirable effort at bringing them back on track - when Jared shifted closer, leaning into Jensen's space and laying a kiss on his lips.
Apparently Jensen's continued surprise was interpreted as an invitation, and Jared pressed closer, sliding an arm around Jensen's shoulders and licking tentatively at the seam of closed lips. Without thought, Jensen opened to the pressure, responding it. When he realized what he was doing, he jerked back, out of Jared's embrace, and stood up.
"Don't you-" Those puppy-dog eyes should be illegal.
"Look, you don't want to go there." He might, really, but Jensen was fairly certain that Jared hadn't thought this all the way through.
"Yes I do! I've thought about it ever since that first night at the bar."
Jensen was tempted. Seriously tempted. There'd been nobody except the occasional night with Sophia for close to a year, and Jared's hot-factor (because, yeah, Jensen would have to be blind to notice; he just had lots of practice at shoving that sort of thought about teammates out of his mind) would totally overcome his inexperience. But he knew that experimentation like that could only lead to problems. He knew what Jared's teammates would say if they knew or thought he was leading Jared astray; their disgust wouldn't only be for Jensen, though. People could talk about equality all they wanted; none of the macho men in professional sports wanted to share a locker room with a gay teammate. Jensen had never flaunted his behavior, always kept his orientation quiet for that very reason.
For Jared it could be worse: his contract was only for this season. His agent was banking on this being Jared's breakout year, and he would have an absolute cow if rumors started circulating before Jared had a chance to show his skills in the major leagues. There was nothing like whispers about being queer to make you unwelcome in the clubhouse; even steroid use was considered less of a black mark.
Not to mention the repercussions with Jared's family and his church should anyone find out. It was one thing not to go on a mission and become a responsible elder; it was something else entirely to be excommunicated.
Jensen tried to explain all that, but he could see that it wasn't doing much good. He cursed Jared's latent stubbornness, which usually showed itself when he wanted something that was proving more difficult to attain than he'd expected.
How strong was a man supposed to be? Jensen wondered.
He tried every argument that he could think of, including the idea that all of Jared's energy should be channeled into pitching. Now that the season was going so well, he didn't want to jinx it, or to lose momentum. He was sure that Crash Davis, Annie Savoy, and Nuke LaLoosh would have laughed out loud at that excuse, but it was his last ditch effort. And finally something appeared to be getting through to Jared.
"You think I'm not really interested, and if you put me off, I'll forget it."
Well, yes.
"If you're still interested by the time the All-Star break rolls around… that's a month away. I'll think about it." With his upstairs brain. His downstairs brain was telling him that this was a great idea. "You'll have some time off, and we can discuss it then."
And if he forgot about it or changed his mind? Jensen could deal with that, probably more easily than dealing with the way he felt right now, which was as if he were living up to Chris's accusation.
~
I got fire in my eye
And tobacco in my jaw!5
~
Someone was banging on Chris's door when he got out of the shower.
"Hold your damn horses, I'm comin'!"
He was still rubbing his hair dry with a towel when he unlocked the door. The door flew back, and he had just enough time to jerk out of the way before Jensen was shouldering his way into the room.
"What the fuck, man? What have you been telling Jared?" Jensen looked pissed.
"What?" Chris let the towel drop onto his shoulder, ignoring the drips of water sliding down his neck and back.
"I asked, what have you been telling Jared about me?"
"Nothing, dude. We don't talk about you at all. What's got you so bent out of shape?"
Jensen just stood there for a moment, then stalked forward. Chris backed up until the door jam was against his back.
"He wanted to know about being gay. Bisexual. Whatever." Jensen leaned forward, into Chris's personal space. "You never mentioned anything about that again? Right."
Whoa, what? Choir-boy Jared was looking for tutorials in more than throwing a baseball? Chris's stomach rolled, and he wasn't sure if he was upset that the kid was endangering his career, or if it was that he was looking for advice from Jensen.
"I never mentioned anything. Never even mentioned Steve. Nothing except what I said the night you met him."
"Uh-huh. Sure. And that's all it took to get him to kiss me?"
Kiss him?
The stomach-clenching was back again, worse this time, and before Chris realized what he was doing, he was twisting, shoving Jensen back against the door and holding him there, tempted to wipe any memory of Jared's kiss out of Jensen's mind. Wide green eyes stared at him in surprise, and then ire fired them again.
"You hypocrite." It was a whisper. "All this time I thought you were being a protective ass, you were just jealous."
Stung, Chris stepped back, let his hands fall to his sides.
"It isn't like that. It was never like that."
"No? Does Steve know that?"
"Steve knows everything, I'm sure. Whether or not I've ever said it aloud."
Chris turned his back on Jensen, slumped onto the half-sized sofa that occupied the living area of his efficiency. He pressed his hands to his forehead, trying to ease the headache that had appeared out of nowhere. He only looked up when he heard the click of the door closing and footsteps on the concrete outside.
~
the high fly ball,
arches out above left field6
~
Salt Lake Bees 4, Colorado Springs Sky Box 3
Salt Lake Bees 4, Colorado Springs Sky Box 3
Colorado Springs Sky Box 2, Salt Lake Bees 1
Omaha Royals 4, Salt Lake Bees 3
Omaha Royals 3, Salt Lake Bees 2
Salt Lake Bees 5, Albuquerque Isotopes 1
Salt Lake Bees 7, Albuquerque Isotopes 3
Salt Lake Bees 2, Albuquerque Isotopes 0
Las Vegas 51s 2, Salt Lake Bees 1
Salt Lake Bees 1, Las Vegas 51s 0
Salt Lake Bees 4, Las Vegas 51s 1
Salt Lake Bees 10, Tuscon Sidewinders 3
Tuscon Sidewinders 4, Salt Lake Bees 0
Salt Lake Bees 5, Tuscon Sidewinders 2
~
then hold, fixed and dumb
as the ball drops
down and down, a dead bird
into a waiting glove6
~
Jensen would be lying if he said he forgot about his promise to Jared. It was nearly impossible: he could almost feel Jared's anticipation, and he knew he hadn't forgotten or changed his mind. He also knew that no matter what was going on with Chris, to whom he hadn't spoken since their confrontation, he wasn't so high-minded as to turn Jared down. Jensen was a guy; Jared was hot and appeared willing; were there any doubts about the outcome?
He tried to distract himself with the summer seminar he'd registered for, Economic Systems of Latin America, but the whole thing just made him sick and disgusted, and he had to stop thinking and reading about American foreign policy and its effects on foreign economies. Instead, he spent more time hiking and biking with Sophia, sometimes with Chad et al., sometimes just the two of them.
One night after a long trek out on the salt flats, they got drunk and ended up in her bed. Afterward, Jensen lay there, looking up at the ceiling, wondering how perfectly good sex could make him feel like he had done something wrong. He was still trying to work it out in his head when Sophia whispered, "I think maybe we shouldn't do this anymore."
He turned his head and watched as she slid a t-shirt and boxers on, then climbed back into bed.
"I think maybe you're right." He reached out, and she settled back into the curve of his arm.
"Chad?"
"We… yeah. A couple of nights ago. Didn't stop him from bringing some random bar chick home the next night, though."
"I'm sorry, Soph." And he was, more than he could express. He pressed a kiss to her temple and held her long after she had fallen asleep.
~
and there you have it: the song,
the flight, the perilous whisper of truth
or of love or possibly of faith6
~
The Angels called Jared up to the majors the week before the All-Star break. Jensen knew it before Jared did; Sandy called and gave him the heads-up. When Jensen arrived at the stadium for the evening's game, there was a hushed air of anticipation. Even though Jared wasn't pitching that night, most of the players knew this would be his last time sharing the bench with them. For a while, anyway, if things went well.
Jensen spent the game feeling the oddest mixture of happiness and relief. He was thrilled that Jared was getting this chance, and a bit proud of the role, however small, that he'd played in it. And while some small sex-starved part of his brain might have regretted that the organization hadn't waited a week to make this decision, he knew it was probably for the better.
After the game, he joined Jared and Jeff in the dugout. Chris was nowhere to be seen. Jensen supposed he'd already headed to the locker room to get cleaned up; he'd had a good slide into second base late in the eighth inning, one that had crusted clay dust in his hair, under his nails, and down his pants.
Jeff and Jensen were drilling Jared on things to remember, things to highlight in interviews, and what not to say at the press conference, when Sandy joined them, looking unhappy.
It looked like Jared wasn't the only person who would be relocating. Only for Chris, it wouldn't be back to L.A.
~
then the descent
and the end of the game6
~
Chris knew that he would be traded, he just wasn't sure where. The trade deadline was approaching, and his major reason for being here, polishing the rookie, had gone.
So. The Brewers. His agent told him they wanted him, and then he received a call from the Milwaukee player management office telling him that they would send him to Nashville, their minor league team, immediately. Chris figured that was the end of his season right there.
He planted himself at the bar at Zephyr. The place was only half-full when he arrived, and the mournful blues playing over the sound system fitted Chris's dejected mood. As the evening wore on, the crowd grew, and Chris felt anonymous, forgotten. He wasn't sure how much he'd had to drink, but it wasn't nearly enough. Stupid liquor laws, only allowing one drink per person at a time. He was draped over a slim blonde with short-cropped hair and hard eyes when Jen finally found him. Jensen poured him into the backseat of his car, then lugged him into his house and tossed him onto a blessedly soft bed. Somebody fumbled with his belt buckle and tugged his boots off, but Chris was too miserable and too dizzy to care. He closed his eyes. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he would thank Jen and be on his way, he swore.
Jensen's softly chuckled, "Sure you will, Chris," was the last thing he heard before he passed out.
Chris woke with a surprisingly clear head - maybe those drinking laws made a little bit of sense after all - but a seriously dry mouth. As in, as parched as the desert that lay to the west of the lake. He rolled out of bed and stumbled out to the living room, where Jensen was frowning at Soledad O'Brien as she joked with the CNN weather reporter. Dry, dry, and dry out here in the intermountain west today.
"G'morning, sunshine."
A grunt was all Chris could produce in response. Jensen got up and headed to the kitchen, where he pulled a bottle of aspirin and a glass from the cupboard and a pitcher of water from the fridge. Chris filled the glass and gulped it down, tossing back a couple of aspirins with the last mouthful, then pouring a second glass and drinking it too.
Jensen just stood there, watching. Chris felt a bit like a zoo exhibit-observe, the human male's ability to behave like a jerk-and he couldn't quite figure out what to say. An apology, yes, and some thanks were in order. Normally Chris's mouth ran a mile a minute, and was a good ten minutes ahead of his brain. But he stood there, mute, awkward, uncomfortably aware that he reeked of smoke and stale beer and had yesterday's clothes on.
"If you don't mind that they're probably a bit long, I've got some sweats. You can shower and change, and I'll take you back to your truck."
So, maybe the man was psychic? Or maybe Chris just looked that uncomfortable? Whichever. He would be happy to get these jeans off.
Hot water, with blessedly strong pressure, relaxed muscles Chris hadn't realized were tight. It felt good to be clean, to wash away the wallowing self-pity he'd allowed himself last night. He dried and dressed, pondering the illicit, oddly intimate thrill he felt from wearing Jensen's clothes, even after sleeping in his bed.
When he couldn't put it off any longer, he returned to the kitchen.
"Thank you. Seriously."
"No problem. We all need some support sometimes."
Jensen seemed willing to leave it at that. He handed Chris a mug of coffee, but Chris set it down and crowded into Jensen's personal space, pushing him against the counter. He gave him all the time in the world to move away, to resist, before he slid both hands around Jensen's neck and tugged Jensen down to press their lips together lightly. After a brief hesitation, Jensen relaxed and leaned into it.
Toothpaste from the finger-brushing he'd done clashed with Jensen's coffee, but Chris didn't care, because underneath that the kiss was Jensen-flavored, and that was what Chris had been wanting for days, weeks. Maybe even longer, if he was honest with himself.
Some time later, Jensen twisted so their positions were reversed, lifting Chris up onto the edge of the counter and hovering just out of reach, not quite occupying the vee of empty space between Chris's spread legs.
"Is this okay?"
Chris just hooked his legs around Jensen's and tugged him closer, bringing Jensen's mouth back where he wanted it.
~
then the curve ball and the dying quail7
~
Jensen was working on his bike when Chris stumbled out of the bedroom the second time. The last excursion to Rock Cliff and the Jordanelle Reservoir had left him and the bike caked with mud. He'd rinsed the frame and wheels with the hose, but the chain needed cleaning, and he wanted to check that the derailleur hadn't suffered from some of the dead leaves and detritus they'd plowed through. He had the bike on a stand on the porch, the chain off and rear wheel loosened from its fork, when he realized he had an audience. Chris slouched against the wall by the door, smirking. A pair of loose cotton pants was clinging precariously to his hips and his chest was bare.
"You're good with your hands."
"Is that a compliment? You sound surprised."
Chris's smile, if anything, became even more wicked. "Not in the least."
Jensen wasn't sure if he should be flattered or embarrassed. A mix of both emotions had color riding his cheekbones, and, suddenly shy, he ducked his head and involved himself in cleaning and lubing his bike chain.
Chris must have decided to take pity on him, because instead of pursuing that line of thought, he asked, "Where's the next ride?"
"Chad suggested the Union Pacific Rail Trail up near Park City. It depends on his work schedule, though. We need to get there bright and early to finish that trail before it gets too hot, so if he's got an early shift Saturday, we'll probably go somewhere else. Or wait until Sunday."
"You ever do that sort of biking before you moved here?"
"I had a bike as a kid, but I never did anything like the mountain biking you can do here. No mountains or anything in Dallas or Houston, you know? And once I'd signed with the Angels, the no-extreme-sports clause in my contract kept me from skiing and mountain biking." Jensen shrugged easily. "Understandable, really. Nobody wants their prime investment breaking a leg or an arm and putting themselves out of commission for an entire season because of a stupid bike ride. Baseball's hard enough on the body."
When Chris didn't reply, Jensen looked up to find his darkened gaze firmly focused on his hands, which were now gently working lubricant onto the chain's links. He finished rubbing the length down, slowly, deliberately, before setting the chain back in place and turning the pedal, watching the gears catch and mesh smoothly. He didn't even pretend to clean off his hands when he rose out of his crouched position. Still Chris watched without speaking.
His fingers left a light trail when he slid them across Chris's stomach, but Chris didn't object. He twined his own with them, spreading the lube (with "metal friction resistance", whatever the hell that was; at the moment Jensen really didn't care) between their palms before dragging Jensen back inside.
~
the winning run sliding home 7
~
"I'm groovin' on the inside with wasted Jensen…"
"Shut it, man. I fuckin' hate this song." He didn't really. Jensen was trying not to slur his words and make the lyrics true. Could he help it if he had such a low tolerance for alcohol? Usually four beers was his limit.
Chris just smiled and hummed along with the music coming out of Jen's stereo. They'd muted ESPN and set the iPod docking station on shuffle, and spread their take out from Bangkok Express on the coffee table. The food was long gone, as was most of the twelve-pack of beer, and Baseball Tonight was long since forgotten.
"Soon I'm gonna tell him that he's driving me crazy…"
Well, Jensen didn't mind making that part of the song happen. With the determination and flexibility of the seriously buzzed, he untwisted himself from his position on the floor, climbed into Chris's lap, and set about it.
~
Hitting is timing. Pitching is upsetting timing.8
~
Jensen woke Monday morning to silence. He knew he was alone before he even opened his eyes. There was a note on the nightstand, a filled mug its paperweight. The coffee was still warm.
I took one of your travel mugs. Don't break anything irreplaceable during your next jaunt up the mountains with Sophia and Chad. -CK
The rest of the season just wasn't the same. Jensen still went to the Bees' games, still kept track of the fielders and pitchers, still met Sandy at the Bayou afterward for a drink, but without Jared and Chris on the field, something had changed. Jensen knew how they were doing - he followed the Nashville Sound online, because he couldn't listen to their games on the radio except when Salt Lake was the visiting team - and he knew when Chris overtook Joe Bauman with the most RBIs in minor-league baseball history. He half-wondered if Chris would pull a Crash Davis, quit once he had that record. But he didn't hear from Chris, and he told himself that he wasn't disappointed when there was no-one waiting on his porch when he rolled his bike home from the public library the next few nights.
No, he didn't hear a peep from Chris, but suddenly Steve was calling and emailing more frequently. Jensen was amused; he hadn't spoken to Steve that often when they were dating. He wasn't sure if Steve's sudden attentiveness was at Chris's request or just because Steve knew Chris and Jensen that well. He hoped this was a positive development.
He spent a fair amount of time arguing with Sophia about the TAU's priorities (completely subsidized health care or tuition reimbursement?) and expanding his senior thesis from college into the research that he hoped would earn his Masters degree: the economic implications of signing a professional sports contract out of high school versus after college. Sophia spent a few evenings not admitting she was crying on Jensen's shoulder before she finally lost her temper and slapped Chad, which apparently knocked some sense into the bastard. Jensen hoped it stuck, for all of their sakes.
By the time the regular season ended for the minor leagues, Milwaukee was the clear winner in the National League Wild Card race, and with the arrival of the post-season, they expanded their roster, bringing Chris up from Nashville. Jensen turned on the satellite TV and saw Chris sitting in the dugout in a Brewers uniform, and wondered if Chris would ever be back.
When the game switched to commercial, Jensen turned to FSN, where he was treated to the sight of Jared smiling at Leslie Visser.
He, Jensen, had been a part of what helped Jared reach his goal. That was something that Jensen knew he should be proud of. He thought about that, about the satisfaction he was getting from organizing and participating in the TAU's collective bargaining committee, and wondered if maybe he wouldn't mind doing something similar for baseball players. Maybe the front office of some major league team wasn't where he wanted to be after all.
~
If a tie is like kissing your sister, losing is like kissing your grandmother with her teeth out.9
~
The Milwaukee Brewers lost the NLCS to St. Louis.
Jensen watched the last game to the end, and then turned off the television.
His phone didn't ring.
~
Baseball has the great advantage over cricket of being sooner ended.10
~
Two days later, when Chad dropped him off, exhausted after a day-long trip up Little Cottonwood Canyon, Chris was waiting on his porch.
"Hey."
"Hey. Sorry about the Cards."
"None of us in the dugout were surprised."
Jensen unlocked the front door and waved Chris inside. Chris dropped his bag at the end of the sofa, but didn't sit down.
"I… I think I might be done. I'm not gonna look for a contract for next year. If I get one, that's great. If not…"
"No?" Jensen perched on the edge of the sofa. He wasn't nervous, exactly. He just wanted to be prepared for whatever was coming.
"Steve asked if maybe I want to start recording. We've kicked around the idea for years, but it never went anywhere 'cause I was always going somewhere: pre-season, post-season, off-season commitments."
"You don't have any commitments now, I guess."
Chris sat down next to Jensen, crowding him against the arm of the sofa.
"I wouldn't say I don't have any commitments. And don't think Steve doesn't know it."
Jensen allowed himself to settle against Chris's side.
He was fine with this, just fine, because next season was more than six months away. Anything could happen by then.
Fin.
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