AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would like to explain myself here. ^^" You see, I was writing this third chapter and wondered why it was taking so long to do so. Come to find out, by the time I had reached a stopping point, It was twice as long as the other two! So after a couple hours of pondering I had decided that I would just split them up into two chapters! Thus giving you this normal sized chapter and chapter four which is smaller than usual!
I also want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have been reading my first story here! It is a real honor to have so many people watching this story and watching, well, me! So again, thank you, everyone! You've motivated me to keep writing! :)
PS: I'm terrible with ending chapters! Sorry! Dx
Steve stepped onto the orangey clay of the school's baseball field, his cleats leaving their marks wherever he went. Peter sat on the metal bleachers on the opposite side of the fence, giving him a thumbs up before snapping a picture with his camera. Rogers found a place in the dugout to put his things and pulled his glove out of his equipment bag.
Steve was surprised at how quickly the week went by. Nothing eventful had occurred, and Stark hadn't said a word to him since their introduction the previous week. He had sat on his bed that Saturday evening, putting together chords at random, failing to come up with a decent melody. It was irritating. Until he got to know Tony, Steve felt he would never be able to put the boy's personality into a collection of chords and lyrics.
He leaned against the fence, tossing his baseball several feet in the air and catching it behind his back as he waited for someone to throw with. Everyone had already doubled up. Again, Steve released the ball into the air.
"Steve!"
"Huh?" He turned around, the ball landing in his glove. He was surprised to see Tony approaching him, equipment bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a black athletic compression shirt with black ball pants and shining metal cleats, obviously brand-new. "Tony? I didn't know you played baseball," Steve said in awe, almost skeptically.
"Yeah? Well I didn't, either."
Steve wondered what he meant by that.
"Well, anyways, I kind of need someone to warm up with, if you don't mind," Rogers smiled.
"Yeah, sure."
Tony quickly put away his things, pulling out his new Mizuno glove. "Whoa," Steve stared at Stark's mitt, "That's a great-looking glove. Has it even been broken in?"
Tony paused. "'Broken in'?"
"Y'know, is it comfortable yet? Loose?"
Tony slipped his hand inside, trying his hardest to open and close the glove, not succeeding.
"I can help you out with that sometime, if you want. But it should be good enough to throw with," Steve jogged a good distance away, lining up with other players, and threw the ball to Tony. Stark closed his left eye and held out his gloved hand. The ball flew straight into the glove's webbing and Tony quickly shut it and put a hand over top it to prevent it from escaping. He took this as very good for a boy who had only played catch once in his life.
Okay. Here's the next challenge, he thought, returning the ball. Quickly he did a bit of math and physics in his head and then reared back, lobbing the ball at Steve, who caught it in front of his face. There. That's all it takes. Tony was proud of himself. He had taught himself the sport of baseball.
Or so he'd thought.
They continued their game of catch for a while, Steve getting faster and harder with every few balls that he threw. It didn't take too long for random boys to start gaping and ask how long Steve had been playing and which travel ball team he played on. To the surprise of many, Rogers had only been playing the game for about 2 years and played for a small local ballpark team. This was really because he knew the man who ran the place and got to play for free. Tony got recognition just for being able to catch the balls that Steve fired at him. Which was fine by him.
Eventually, the coach arrived, looking over every player trying out. This didn't take too long because there were only 26 boys. Finally, he came to Tony and Steve. "Stark? You're trying out?"
"Yes, sir."
He snorted. "Well, don't expect me to put you on the team just cause your daddy's paying for it."
At this, Stark smirked. "Honestly, sir, I didn't expect you to. I plan on earning my spot on this team like everyone else."
"Hmmph," he sighed as he glanced at Steve, who whipped the ball in Tony's direction. "Who is that kid?" he asked.
"Steve Rogers," Tony's smirk remained as he threw the ball back, "He's gonna be your new starting pitcher." Rogers felt his face start to heat up as he heard him say this.
"Oh yeah?" the coach watched Steve throw another ball, "We'll see about that."
A few minutes later, the man was calling all of the boys to take a knee in left field. "Now," coach began," I have many names. I will allow you to call me by two; 'Coach McCoy' or 'Coach Beast'. No other names may be used. Got it?"
The group nodded silently.
"Alright, then. There are 26 of you. I'm only taking 16 of you on the team. Tryouts are going to go on until Monday. That means 5 of you will leave tonight and never come back. I wish all of you the best of luck. Now, let's get started. I want the pitchers and catchers to team up and start showing me what you've got. All of the others, line up in right field and start taking fly balls."
Tony was walking to right field with the larger portion of the boys when he heard coach McCoy get stopped behind him.
"Coach McCoy? I need a catcher," Steve said as he pointed to the two pitchers throwing with their catchers.
"I can do it. I have the gear," Tony heard himself saying as he walked over to stand next to Steve.
"Yeah. Stark seemed to work well with you. Can you pitch to him for now?"
Rogers nodded, walking with Tony to get his gear.
"You're a catcher?"
"Uh, well, if owning the gear and knowing how to squat down and catch balls being thrown at me at a hundred miles per hour makes me qualified, then yeah."
Stark knelt next to his bag, pulling out the shin guards, mask, and chest protector out of it and setting it beside him. He pulled out one of his mitts. "This is a catcher's mitt, right?"
Steve laughed. "Yeah."
Rogers then proceeded to help Tony put on his gear, since he had no clue as to what he was doing.
When Stark was finally set up, Steve stepped onto the practice mound, placing his feet carefully and covering his face from the nose down with his glove as he leaned forward with his throwing arm behind his back. He then brought his hands and feet together, focusing on the target Tony was giving him. Rogers reared back, lifting his front leg and striding gracefully. His arm flew from behind him, releasing the baseball perfectly. The ball sped toward Tony and hit him directly in his glove, the force of the pitch pushing him to fall on his backside.
"Jeez, Rogers! Are you trying to kill me or what?" Stark laughed as he tossed the ball back to him.
"Sorry!" Steve apologized sheepishly, "Are you alright?"
"Peachy," Tony stuck his glove out in front of him again, "Just keep pitching."
And they kept on like that for about a half hour. Back and forth. Tony let a ball past him every few pitches, a couple were stopped by his shin guards and face mask. The coach had come over to watch towards the end. He looked quite impressed.
"Alright! Now let's take some field!" Beast yelled.
Nine players took the field, eight got sent to the batting cages with the assistant coach, and the other nine got to run the bases. Players were constantly rotated so that everyone could be evaluated properly.
Tony was already panting when McCoy yelled "Take two laps around fence, grab your stuff, and then meet me at home plate!"
He found Steve and they ran at the same pace. At the second lap, Stark's breathing started getting heavier and heavier. Rogers looked at him worriedly. "Tony? Are you alright?"
He nodded, running his hand along the fence for support.
They quickly finished and grabbed their things, making their way to home plate, kneeling next to all of the other repugnant-smelling boys.
"Great Tryout, boys. And everyone here was good about getting their papers to me early, thank God," he stared at his clipboard for a moment, "Now, what you've all been waiting for. If I call your name, you haven't made the first cut."
He went down his clipboard, picking off the five names one by one.
Steve and Tony sighed simultaneously in relief. Their names weren't called. The two of them were walking out of the gate when Steve noticed Tony grabbing his chest.
"What's wrong?" He took a hold of Tony's shoulder, stopping him.
The boy took several breaths before he responded. "I didn't want to tell anyone, but I guess I can't get around telling you now," he was silent for a minute. "I have a rare heart condition. I'm not supposed to take part in strenuous activity."
"How are you trying out for the baseball team?" Steve asked, holding Tony's arm.
"I forged my physical. It was easy to get my dad to sign off on that stuff." He felt like falling over. He was completely lightheaded. "Hey, I need to eat. Let's go to that burger joint down the street."
Steve nodded and, after a struggle to obtain it, carried Tony's bag for him to the restaurant. It was getting to be 6:45-ish and the streets would soon be dark and cold. He had half a mind to drop Stark off and hurry home, but he was afraid to leave the boy alone.
Steve helped Tony into a booth by the window and sat across from him, sliding their bags underneath the table.
Almost immediately, a cute young waitress came to the table. "What can I get for you today?"
Tony skimmed the menu quickly and held his finger on one of the options. "Number 5. With a coke." The waitress nodded and scribbled it down on her notepad. "What do you want, Steve?" Tony asked.
"Nothing for me."
"Nonsense. Get something, it's on me," Stark held up his credit card with his forefinger and thumb. Steve smiled, glancing at the menu briefly.
"I'll have what he's having."
The girl nodded and scribbled some more on her paper. She ripped off a slip and handed it to Tony. It had her name and number neatly written with a little heart next to it. Tony winked at her and she hurried off into the kitchen, blushing.
"So," Steve began, "what makes you want to play baseball? I mean, there are plenty of other things that you could do that don't involve putting your life at risk."
"You say it so seriously," Tony leaned back in his seat. "You know my dad recently started sponsoring the school's baseball team, right?"
Steve nodded.
"He's really been into baseball lately. I think he sponsors these sports in hopes that I'll enjoy one. He sometimes forgets that I'm limited to this," he put a hand to his chest.
"So you're doing this for your dad?"
"In hopes of gaining some attention. Cliché, right?"
Steve shook his head. "I think that's what I would do."
"So how're things with your dad?" Tony asked.
He immediately felt like a dick for asking.
"Oh, he died when I was a kid."
"O-Oh, sorry."
"He's sort of the reason I play baseball, too. See, he was an amazing ballplayer. Everyone he knew swore he had the best arm in baseball. The Yankees almost took him," Steve smiled, looking down at the table.
"What happened?"
"He met my mom. Gave up his career for her. A year later they had me. When I was five dad started coaching me. He found out I had his arm, and then I was set to carry on his legacy. He died the next month. Car crash. I stopped playing for a long time, then picked it back up again when I was persuaded to try out for the baseball team in seventh grade. It's fun and all, but it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life," Steve shrugged and looked out the window.
"What do you want to do?" Tony asked, breaking the momentary silence.
"I-I don't know yet," he said hurriedly. What if he thought being a musician was lame? He seemed like the type to think so.
Their food arrived and Steve watched Tony dig in. He ate a couple of fries at a time, pacing himself, unlike Tony. As they talked more and more, Steve could hardly believe how much they actually had in common. He was also surprised at how quickly they had hit it off. Almost like nothing. By the time they had finished their dinner and gotten out of the restaurant, it was 8:10. Tony checked the time on his phone and frowned. "I live like six blocks away. What about you?"
"My apartment is just around the corner," Steve replied.
"You mind if I stay at your place for the night?"
"I-I uhh... I guess-"
"Great. Thanks," he was already dialing his home phone number. He waited for a second as the phone rang, then Steve heard a woman's voice yelling through the phone. "ANTHONY EDWARD STARK! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"
"I'm alright, mom!"
"You told me that the tryout ended at 6:30!"
"It did. My buddy and I -" he was cut off. "Steve Rogers. He's in my science class. But anyway, Steve and I got hungry and stopped to get some food. I'm gonna stay at his place tonight, if that's alright." He looked at Steve as he said this. "Yeah. I'll be home tomorrow," he rolled his eyes; "I love you, too. Good night."
He slid his phone in his pocket. "Alright, Rogers. Escort me."
