A/N: Okay, so I, like many others, have completely fallen for not only the plot of the Sandlot, but all of the boys. And they all deserve a little love. Voila, Sandlot One Shots was created. Yes, you can submit your OCs. There is a form at the bottom. This one is about Timmy from Sandlot 1, and my OC Grace.
The cup full of rocks sat invitingly on the windowsill.
Grace stared at it, her eyes tracing over her name in brightly colored, sparkly, ink. Timmy had never been one for art, but he'd really tried his best on this one. Somehow he managed to turn a plastic cup into something she would never dream of throwing out.
Sighing, she shifted and rolled over so her back was to the window. The clock on her wall read 12:37. Grace rubbed her eyes tiredly. She hated waking Timmy up every night, like he was some sort of sleep drug in a human suit. The thing was, it was true. Her parents had tried every medicine, every wild theory, and nothing got her to sleep like her best friend.
Besides, Timmy would be more disappointed if she didn't wake him. She could lie exceedingly well, but he always saw right through her.
Grace sat up on her knees, taking a rock from the cup and fingering it. Sliding the window open, she leaned out slightly, and tossed the rock right at the window right across from hers.
Not a minute later, his window opened, and his face appeared. "Morning, Gracie," he whispered, still managing to sound cheerful with a voice scratchy from sleep. Even after just waking up, his eyes were bright, his smile stretched all the way across his face, and he was still undeniably attractive.
Grace glanced to her left and right, as if she suspected someone of watching her. "Is Tommy still asleep? I'm always scared I'll wake him."
Timmy chuckled quietly, leaning on the window with his forearms. "Tom sleeps like a teenager on a Saturday morning. Don't worry." Grace had to smile a little at his creative simile. "And she smiles! Score one for Timmy." He lightly punched the air, and she shook her head, suppressing a laugh.
"Score one million for Grace, I have all the rocks." Grace held up the cup and shook it slightly, the rocks inside making clinking sounds as they hit the plastic.
"You win, you win." Timmy held his hands up. "I'm coming."
Grace slid the window open all the way, watching him carefully as he hopped out of his house and stepped onto the thick branch of the oak tree that stood between their houses. Much like a tightrope walker, he made his way towards her. When he finally gripped the outside of her window, she got a close look at him. His eyes had sizable bags beneath them, and his face seemed unnaturally pale in the moonlight. And he still made her heart race at the speed of a NASA rocket, as he would say.
"Gracie?" He asked, chuckling. "I can't climb in if you're standing there." Grace turned bright red, embarrassed for staring, scrambling out of the way to make room for him on her bed. He jumped inside, sliding the window shut.
Shivering, she leaned against the headboard. "It's freezing out there," she commented, slipping back under her covers.
"Yeah, yeah." Timmy laid down next to her, propping his head up on his elbow. "As much as I hate to inform you, you can't fall asleep if you're talking, Gracie." His tone was teasing, like always, and she rolled her eyes at him.
There was a slight pause. "Thanks, Timmy," she said softly, resting back against his chest. His heart thumped steadily against her cheek. Her heart beat wildly from the close contact, even though it was nothing new.
"Any time, Grace," he whispered. The combination of her exhaustion and the warmth and comfort of his body against hers was enough to put her to sleep instantly.
She was dreaming. Or maybe she wasn't dreaming. It was so hard to tell sometimes. But she was on a street corner, holding a small hand. Whose hand was it again?
Right! It was Daisy's hand! But it couldn't be, because something terrible had happened to Daisy...
Wait, Daisy! Don't cross the street yet! The light is still red!
No! Daisy! Come back here, Daisy, please! Wait, stop driving! Daisy's there! Daisy! Why aren't you moving?
Is that blood? Why is it everywhere? No, please don't leave! Everything is getting foggy...
Grace sat up in her bed, gasping for air, arms wrapped around herself tightly. Her hair was nearly plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her whole body trembled and shivered.
All of a sudden, a pair of arms wrapped around her. Someone was holding her tightly, pulling her into their lap...
Grace's breath came in heavy gasps as she rested her head in the crook of Timmy's neck. The world seemed to slowly come into focus, and she slowly began to register the words he was whispering. "Shhh, Gracie, it's okay. I'm here, I'm here. Please don't cry, it's okay."
Now that she was awake, the details of the nightmare seemed to burn into her brain. She couldn't stop remembering, every day, Daisy...
"It's not fair," she finally said, voice wavering. "She was only five. She could barely pronounce my name right." The tears had come now, rolling down her cheeks like raindrops.
"I know, I know." Timmy's hold on her tightened, one hand coming up to rest against the back her head, which was still buried in his neck. "It's not fair at all."
"She was so small." Grace felt a heavy weight behind her eyes, burning and stinging. "And because of that driver, she's gone. And I can't sleep without seeing it all over again. I could have saved her, Timmy, I could have saved her..."
"Grace, stop!" His voice was so unusually harsh that she immediately stopped crying and hiccuped. He held her shoulders tightly, pushing her back so she could see his face. His eyes bore holes into hers, passionate and fierce. "This is not your fault. None of it is, none of it was. PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of." As he went on, his voice became softer, but his eyes never lost the burn they had. "And I am positive if your little sister was here, she would tell you the same thing."
"I'm sorry." Grace took in a deep breath of air, staring down at her lap. She had her wits about her now that she was done crying, and their close proximity was making her heart race. "Sorry."
Timmy shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, I just..." He paused, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I really care about you, and I hate it when it gets to you like this."
I really care about you. Grace blinked slowly, daring to meet his eyes. In all her twelve years of knowing Timmy Timmons, she had never been so terrified near him.
He looked scared too, she realized as she stared at him. Even so, she couldn't help but notice how attractive his eyes were. Bright, and twinkling, and the color of the sky...
Grace! Get a hold on yourself, girl.
Swallowing nervously, she tried not to break his gaze. "You're terrified," he noticed, lips twitching into a smile.
She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. "Hypocrite. You look like you're Garfield and someone just told you lasagna has ceased to exist."
Timmy laughed, a real, loud laugh. He was interrupted only by Grace pressing her lips to his. He grinned against her lips as she wrapped an arm loosely around his neck. "What was that for?" He asked when they broke apart.
"Your laugh was going to wake Mom and Dad," Grace excused, a grin of her own on her face.
Timmy smirked, a hand sliding up her side to cup her cheek. "I just might have to laugh more often then, huh?" He asked.
She kissed him again, softly but eagerly, much longer this time, feeling something akin to a bubble expanding in her chest. "Wasn't the whole point of you coming over here for me to sleep?" She asked breathlessly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Kissing you is much more fun, though," Timmy protested, pressing another short kiss to her lips.
"Maybe tomorrow, Romeo," she promised, relaxing back into her pillows, head on his chest.
He shamelessly wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'm holding you to that, Gracie," he said.
A/N: Okay, so hopefully it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be. Reviews are bofinado!
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-Ally