Ginny was hot. She kicked away the comforter, twisting to try and find a cool patch on her pillow to rest her damp forehead. Instead, her hand slapped against a solid wall of flesh, her confusion overtaking the discomfort of the humid air and warm sheets.
God, Mike's head was throbbing. He was a thirty-six year old man with knees like an eighty year old and a back that'd aged so quickly it was far past geriatric, and he had a hangover like a fucking frat bro.
"You're a freaking furnace." He flinched away from the noise, his eyes squeezing together in some vain hope to shut down the jackhammer going to town on his skull.
"And you need to not talk," he grit out, taking stock of everything that hurt. His throat was dry and scratchy, his stomach riotous at the idea of food, and he didn't even want to think of who he'd brought home last night.
Last night…
They bolted up at the same time, still so in sync, even in this moment, admittedly one of their worse. Ginny stared over at him, eyes darting over to his chest, less hairy as she'd always expected and worryingly bare, before moving down to her own.
She didn't wait for him to react, slipping from the bed with a steady stream of obscenities coursing through her head. She would be impressed with the amount of curses she knew if her brain wasn't currently trying to comprehend how stupid she was as she but flitted around the room, collecting anything of hers she could find.
How could she? How could she?
"Jesus," Mike rubbed his hand along his forehead, trying to manage his racing thoughts and pounding headache long enough to focus on Ginny. Ginny who was on her hands and knees, searching for her dress with her face twisted into a furious scowl.
Furious. She was furious. At him.
"Jesus," he said again, his stomach plummeting, "I think I might puke."
"I wasn't aware I revolted you," she popped up, hands on her hips and everything about her stiff, tensed to run.
Lurching forward, he prayed the room would stop swaying. Then maybe he could get her to look at him the way she had last night. Back at the club, when she threw her arms in the air and twirled, laughing that laugh he wished he didn't long to hear. "No," he spread his fingers over the comforter, a small part of him wondering how long the scent of her perfume would linger on his sheets, "I can't exactly drink like a twenty-five year old anymore."
"Right." She shook her head. "I guess you should, I don't know, get some coffee or water or…" she frowned, catching sight of her dress lying in the kitchen, a pitiful puddle of light purple. "Or close your eyes."
"My eyes?"
She glanced down, glaring at the way her body betrayed just how uncomfortable she felt. "I need to get to the kitchen, which means you need to stop looking."
And even with how heavy he felt, how he was operating through a fog, God help him, Ginny standing there with her arms folded over her chest and long legs crossed was about to get him into more trouble. Because, and he didn't think it was even possible, she was even more beautiful with bedhead and day-old makeup.
"Lawson," she snapped, already inching backwards. "Eyes. Closed."
"You actually serious?" When she didn't answer, he let out a low groan. "Come on, it's not like it's anything I haven't seen before."
She felt her mouth curl deeper into its sneer, and he must could sense the dangerous shift in the air as her already black mood darkened. With a sigh, his eyes shuttered closed and he waited for her to return, trying not to feel disappointed when she finally came back, fully clothed and filled with a steely resolve.
"I'm heading out."
She was leaving? "Rookie," he called, jumping up and tripping into his boxers before going after her. "We need to talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about," she grabbed at her shoes, never slowing her stride as she walked towards the door. "We got drunk and had sex, that's all this was."
"Baker – " she threw a hand up, stopping him.
"We got drunk, we had sex" she repeated, emphasizing each word and leaving no room for argument, "that's all this was. I don't want to stay here. I don't want to talk about it. And I don't ever want anyone out there knowing about what happened last night." The picture of Mike, grinning at her from between her legs and her control vanishing with that one look, popped into her mind and she couldn't help the shiver that traveled up her spine. "Look, just forget about it, okay? We're teammates, nothing more."
She left before she could let the hurt that flashed across his face affect her. He wouldn't get to her, even if with each new memory that came to her unwanted something that felt suspiciously like guilt slammed around her chest.
...
She didn't see him for two weeks. The first night after the wedding, he felt a twinge in his knee and found himself being shuffled along to some sport's doctor in Massachusetts, Al at his side reminding him to take it easy. The plan had always included two more seasons, and he wouldn't be losing that to anything, not the near constant pain from his back or a blown-out knee.
But, even as the doctor checked him over and said the same thing he'd been hearing for years, that his knees had aged out of the sport, that he would need to give up catcher is he wanted to step on the diamond again, he couldn't concentrate. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to go back, how he was supposed to practice with Ginny and play with her and win with her without thinking of how her skin had tasted. And how she was just as playful in bed as out of it, her sarcasm turning him on in a way that he hadn't thought possible.
No, he couldn't go back into the clubhouse this way, not when she'd made her feelings so abundantly clear. They were teammates, barely even friends now if their last conversation had been any indication. And he would need to wash the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her, off of him.
"Yo, Ginny," she glanced up from where she sat beside Tommy, making sure to keep her smile in place even as Mike trailed behind Blip, his eyes on the ground, on the lockers, on everyone and everything other than her. "So, I'm rolling in here, parking my minivan like any other non self-respecting father, and in rolls Lawson with the hottest girl I've ever seen."
Mike dropped his bag, his shoulders pulled tight back to his ears. "Blip," he murmured, "don't."
Blip rolled his eyes, bumping his fist against Tommy's before walking over to where Ginny sat. No, stood. She was standing? When had that happened? "Come on, Mike. I've got two kids, and Evelyn isn't exactly pleased with me at the moment," leaning forward, he cocked his head to the side, "I may have slipped a red sock in with her intimates."
"That'll do it," Tommy laughed, the two of them oblivious to the tension swirling between their teammates.
"Help him out, Mike," Ginny found herself saying, her words coming out unbidden and against her firm desire to keep them shut away, "gotta give him something."
"Rookie…" Mike shook his head, his knuckles white as his fists clenched. "It's not exactly clubhouse conversation."
She folded her arms across her chest, her legs carrying her closer to him even as her mind screamed no. That she was venturing towards danger, towards a decision that would lead to a finality she wasn't ready to commit to. "Mike Lawson," she purred, "and some random, it's a San Diego tradition, right? Although I'm surprised there was anyone left."
Blip's cackles filled the room, and soon the rest of the guys were there, taking part in the Baker/Lawson show, the back and forth that had become common to these moments where they were all together. But as Mike's eyes narrowed and his lip ticked down into a frown, it all faded to the background.
"You really want to do this?" He asked quietly, issuing a challenge that he knew they'd both lose. "Fine, Blip was right, she was hot, and dirty."
"Dirty?"
"Oh, yeah," he inched closer to her, his breath coming out faster, "just filthy, was a great time."
Blip clapped his hands down on Ginny's shoulders. "Damn man," he grinned, propping his chin up on the top of her head.
Mike felt his stomach roll as something flickered in her stare. Disappointment? Pain? But then she was shaking Blip off and giving him a tight smile. "Well, I hope you enjoyed it."
Tucking her hair back underneath her baseball cap, she left as fast as her feet would take her, her body trembling with anger. Anger at Mike and that smug way he'd looked at her, anger at Blip for even bringing that garbage into the clubhouse in the first place.
Anger at herself for caring as much as she did.
"Baker, wait," she sped up at the sound of Mike's voice, not exactly sure where she was heading but damn sure she needed to get away. "Hey now, you know my knees are shit, don't make me run."
Swiveling around, his hand landed on her waist just before he had the chance to smash into her. She shoved away from him like he'd burnt her, shaking away the shiver his touch had sent through her. "What do you want?"
He scrubbed his hand over his face, unsure of where to begin.
I can't stop thinking about you.
I want to be with you, I think since the moment we met.
I think I'm in love with you.
"I'm sorry, for everything back there."
"Why?" She fell back against the wall, leaving as much space between them as she could. "This is what we do. You sleep with someone and we all talk about how great it must be, being one of Mike Lawson's girls." She huffed out a laugh, cringing when it sounded bitter even to her own ears. "You gonna go apologize to Blip and Tommy too?"
"I didn't have sex with them."
"It's never too soon to offer."
"Alright," he could feel his patience wearing, had to swallow back the snap threatening to bubble up and out of his throat. "We ever gonna get back to normal?"
"There's nothing weird about me deciding that your sex life is none of my concern," she spat back, throwing her hands up as she backed away from him, "as long as it doesn't keep me from playing the game, I don't care. So, we done here?"
"Yeah," he sighed, dragging his thumb along his chin. She nodded, shoving her hands into her pocket and brushing past him. "I guess we are."
...
Hey Rookie, I missed you out today after practice, but I guess you were busy or something, I don't know. Amelia said you finally moved out of the hotel, found an actual apartment. I've got enough food for two if you're still up. It could be cool, me swinging by, us hanging out. Just, call me back if you get this. Beep.
...
Over the next few weeks, it became more and more clear that Ginny not only wanted to forget about that night with Mike and the subsequent disastrous morning, but of any relationship they'd had outside of baseball. His calls, growing fewer and fewer as time went by, were always ignored. She did listen to the voicemails though, in those moments when she was feeling weak and lonely.
...
Baker, you alright? That was a rough game for everyone, you shouldn't blame yourself. I was thinking of catching a movie, getting my mind off of it if you need a distraction, or a reason to get out, or…a friend? It doesn't have to be movie, I just don't want you to be alone. You know where to find me. Beep.
...
It didn't help when Livan Duerte finally came on. It gave Al the chance to bring up another one of his terrible ideas for Mike. That same doctor from before, the one that had given him two options, retire or move to first, had had a moment of inspiration. He claimed he could give Mike another three years, but it would cost him a decent chunk of this season. Mike fought him on it until he didn't have anymore fight, and it was only from the sideline that he realized how bad things had really gotten.
"You think you can actually get it in the mitt this time?"
Livan swung his arm around Ginny's shoulder, and she didn't pull away. Instead she jerked her chin up, wearing her good spirit like a coat of armor. "You think you can actually catch one of me throws?"
Livan spun, planting himself in front of Ginny. "What would you give me if I did?" She blinked, surprised, and that's when Mike slipped into the room.
"Duerte," he all but growled, "Baker."
"Lawson," Livan replied, barely sparing him a passing glance. "You gonna be off the DL any time soon?"
"Oh, don't worry about me," Mike said pleasantly, "just enjoy your time on the field. It won't be lasting much longer."
He wouldn't look at her, wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing how angry it made him, watching her treat Livan how she'd used to treat him.
Still, that tiny mutinous piece of hope he swore off of the last time she ignored the flash of his number on her phone flared as she called his name. He didn't stop, he had too much pride, but it was something.
...
Ginny, please. I just…(sigh), I don't know how to make this better. All I know is I miss how it used to be. I don't beg, and yet, here I am. Call me back. Please. Beep.
Mike…stop calling, okay? I don't want this to be harder than it needs to be, but I'm not going to pick up. I can't. Beep.
...
"Oh," Ginny gasped, walking into the gym and jumping when she realized she wasn't alone. Mike dropped the ropes, sweat staining his shirt and his chest rising as he sucked in a breath. "Sorry, most mornings I'm here by myself."
"I know," he reached behind him, grabbing at a towel and bringing it to his face.
"Right," her gaze slumped to the floor. It had been three months since the night of her mother's wedding, and they hadn't had a real conversation since. She didn't know how to handle this uncertainty, but then again, he hadn't been her constant in a long time. "Are you supposed to be doing that?"
He straightened out of his squat, schooling his expression so that she wouldn't see him wince. "I'm officially of the DL, so I'm gonna be back in the game next week."
She stepped towards him, her hand already lifting before she remembered that she wasn't supposed to be happy to have him back. To have to stare at him day after day and deal with those irritating feelings she hadn't asked for and didn't want. "That's great."
"Please," he snorted, "sound more enthused."
"I'm not sure what you were expecting," she went over to the treadmill, setting a quick pace, "a surprise party and some ice cream cake?"
"Well that would mean you would have to speak to me for more than a minute at a time. Hell, I'm not sure you even know how anymore, and I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, Rookie." She sped up, willing her heart to pound because of the running and not because of the way his words were playing through her head, taunting her.
She focused on the slap of her feet against the treadmill, the steady rhythm she could lose herself to most days. Days where Mike Lawson didn't saunter over to her and lean against her machine, searching her face for something she knew she wouldn't be ale to give him.
"How's Duerte?" He finally asked. She upped the speed, determined to ignore him. "You know, I think I've got your type pegged." She was pushing nine miles, desperate to block him out. "Trevor, me," his voice trailed off, and she nearly stumbled, her hand darting out to steady herself on the arm of the treadmill. "And now Duerte."
"First of all," she panted, "fuck you. And second, there's nothing going on between me and Livan."
"Right," he hummed, kicking the power cord from the wall outlet. The machine stuttered off and Ginny whipped around to him, a glare settling firmly into place.
"What the hell is your problem?" She hopped onto the ground, scowling up at him and feeling her annoyance double when he glared right back at her.
"My problem? I wasn't aware I had a problem, Baker." He bent, crowding into her space, stealing the breath from her chest. "Whereas you've made it abundantly clear that you want nothing to do with me."
"And yet here we are," Ginny shot back. "I thought you would have gotten the message when I all but told you to stay away from me, or maybe when I stopped answering your calls, so apparently I haven't been clear enough."
"Fine," he was grasping for his self-control, trying to reel himself back before he made things worse. "I'll leave you alone, but first you have tell me why."
She rocked back, her cheeks flushed. "Why?"
"I think it's a reasonable enough question. We slept together and all of a sudden you can't talk to me? Can barely stand to look at me? So what, hmm? What would freak you out so much that you all but shut down on me?"
"I – I don't –" She backed away, never getting too far before he was right there, prowling after her with grim determination. "Nothing."
"No, don't give me that." Her ankle skimmed along the wall, and she felt panic surge through her like a shot of adrenaline. She was trapped, stuck between a hard place and a harder conversation. "I know you, Ginny," her name tumbled from his tongue like a prayer, soft and reverential, despite the fury etched onto his face, "I think I know you pretty damn well, and I'm at a loss."
She pressed up onto her toes, trying to wriggle further away from him and all his demands. Because she would give it to him, despite her better judgment. With his breath tickling her upper lip and his gaze intent on her, she wouldn't be able to hide.
"Y-you kissed me," she stammered, tunneling down into her anger before he saw through her to all the doubts he'd planted in her the second his lips touched hers, "you should've known better, but you kissed me, and now I – I…"
"You what?" His voice came out low, thick with a promise that warmed her.
"I've been having a hard time," she admitted shakily, "and I want," she bit her lip, stopping the damage, protecting what little between them she still had from this monumental change.
"Say it," he urged her, his hands resting on either side of her head, his body inches from her, his eyes dipping down to her mouth, "damn it, Baker, say it or I don't know what I'll –"
"You." And there it was, the secret she went to bed with every night, the line she'd crossed and then swore she'd never do again. "I want you." She wasn't supposed to be this girl, the one who joined the team and screwed the captain and created all this drama. And that was who he was making her, especially when he had her pinned against the wall and he was looking at her with just as much confusion as she felt.
And then he wasn't looking at her, but surging forward, his teeth crashing into hers for one quick moment before she tilted her head, slid her hands along his neck, and kissed him like she'd wanted to every minute, of every day, of the past three months.
He wound his arms around her waist, crushing her to his body, and it was muscle memory when she fisted his shirt in her hands, aching for what she knew came next. He pulled back for a breath, and she kissed a path down to his neck, his skin damp and salty underneath her tongue.
"You know how crazy you've been making me?" He gasped, his hand going to down to the curve of her ass and squeezing. She dragged her fingers along his stomach, running over each bump and ridge of his abdomen and letting out a surprised squeak when he ripped her up from the ground. He scanned the room, pumping a fist into the air when his eyes landed on the therapist table.
"God, you're such a dork."
"Don't do that," he hissed, his grip on her tightening as her teeth grazed the shell of his ear. "I'll drop you."
She pulled back, arching an eyebrow at him. "Come on, Old Man," it sent a thrill through him, that nickname, the lightness of her words, the fact that she was here at all. "Here I was thinking you were stronger than that."
With a smirk, he dropped her to the table. "Need a demonstration?" He didn't wait for a reply, settling between her legs and kissing her hard enough to make sure she'd never forget. He wasn't going to let her slip away again, wasn't sure he could take it if she did. Pulling the hair-tie from her hair, he buried his fingers through her curls, still as soft as he'd remembered. And when she wrapped her legs around his waist, it was like falling right back where he'd belonged.
He could make a career of kissing Ginny Baker. He loved the slant of her mouth over his, loved the way she couldn't seem to help the smile dancing along her lips, loved the way she scraped her nails into his skin, leaving behind scratches he'd wear with pride. And he wouldn't have ever stopped kissing her if not for the slam of the door behind them.
They sprung apart on instinct, an unspoken message between them ending with her standing on the other side of the room, her hands combing the mess he'd made of her hair back into her ponytail.
"Al in a bikini, Al in a bikini, Al in a bikini," he murmured, willing away his hard on and only turning when it was manageable.
"Skipper in a two piece," her eyes flicked down to the front of his shorts, and damn, was smug Ginny making it hard on him. "That work for you?"
"Usually," he answered, "but then again, I can usually hold out until I'm at home, so this situation is a bit new."
She sidled up to him, one hand resting against his chest, her thigh slipping between his. "No hot and heavy make out sessions with Tommy?"
"We're gonna have to talk about this obsession you have with my non-existent relationship with Tommy."
She threw her head back and laughed. "You'd make the cutest couple in the padres."
He waited for her laughter to die away, and just after he'd stored that picture of her for later, her giggle looping around his brain like his favorite song, he stepped away, going back over to that table and jumping up.
She could sense the change between them, could see the exact moment he closed himself off. "Come sit," he pointed to the space beside him.
"What's wrong?" She lowered herself slowly, preparing for that moment of shock, where the realization of her mistake would overwhelm her and she would have to run.
Mike inhaled, long and deliberate, making sure what he got what he needed to say just right. "God help me, Baker, I like you. Maybe some part of my brain short circuited when you were called up, or I took one too many to the skull, but I really like you." Her head whipped up, eyes wide with an annoying amount of surprise. He'd just tried to lick the back of her throat and it hadn't been because he was bored. "So, unless we talk about this, all of it, I'm not interested. I can't handle having you for a night, or a few minutes at a time. And I get it if this isn't something you want. You're at the beginning of your career, you've got your no-ball players rules, and, even though I happen to be in the prime of life," she snorted and he bumped his shoulder into hers, "I could see why you would want someone younger."
She opened her mouth, either to destroy him or make his day, but he stopped her. "Wait," her eyebrows knit together, but she pressed her lips together, "regardless of what you're about to say, there's no more of the last couple of months. No more ignoring me, no more disappearing all the time, and definitely no more screening my calls."
Standing, she swiped her hands along her pants before she nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?"
Her face split into a grin, wider than anything he'd ever seen. "As long as you're fine with keeping it between us, I think I'd be open to being friends." Eyes twinkling, she grinned as he skimmed a hand over the curve of her hip and tugged her close.
"You playing hard to get," he murmured, "it's sexy."
Ginny held out, her mouth just out of his reach. "And I guess, in addition to all that friendship, it wouldn't be awful, you and me."
"Duerte's gonna be disappointed."
She kissed away his chuckles, alcohol free and feeling normal for the first time in months.