10. Owning Up

"You know, you kinda use the posessive a lot with Mihashi."

At the voice, Abe turned around and stared at a grinning Taijma, his freckles stark against his flushed skin from their latest conditioning exercise.

"What?" the dark haired teen asked as he stood, looking down on the shorter teenager with intentional menace.

But Tajima didn't seem intimidated and only shrugged as he said, "You heard me," before going off towards the other side of the dugout, not missing the opportunity to slap a few of his teammates on their backsides as they leaned down to get their water.

Shaking his head, Abe had thought that the shortie needed to learn how to talk more sense.

But a few days later and he was avoiding Tajima, because he had realized he was right and Abe didn't want to admit it.

How he said his pitcher, his idiot. What made Abe think that he fully controlled, that he owned, Mihashi like some plot of land. He wasn't a king, no near one in fact (much too irritable).

Abe tried to stop the habit, to forcefully alter the way he spoke. He didn't want Mihashi to get the wrong impression, that he was just a tool that he was using to succeed. Sure, he had initially thought in that fashion, but he had quickly realized that wasn't the way to go. Give and get, it was a karma-like process and he didn't want to offset anything.

But a few days later, while he was coming out from the showers a little late, he saw a sight that made his blood boil.

The team wasn't just ten anymore in their now second year, as they had gotten an impressive thirteen new members, ten of those being first-years. And right now, two of those (the names escaped Abe even though they'd been practicing for a week together), were standing over Mihashi as he sat against the wall, arms around his knees and face hidden.

"Why are you the ace? You're just an untalented idiot," one of them sneered while the other laughed.

Abe knew, when it came down to it, Mihashi was an idiot. But he was Abe's idiot and no one was allowed to call him that rather then himself. And no-one, not even himself, was allowed to insult Mihashi's pitching in such a blatant and disrespectful way.

It was more than enough for Abe to come in swinging.

He thought he heard a crack as he uppercut the closest one who had talked, sending him sprawling to the ground in a mixture of pain and shock, but he didn't give much care. The other one smartly slunk a few steps back, out of Abe's initial punch range. The one on the ground quickly sprung up, cradling his jaw while his eyes were wide and kept blinking.

Suddenly thankful for his vice-captain position and being a second-year, Abe snarled, "Get out of here. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

They scampered off without a second thought.

This left Abe with a very fragile Mihashi. As Abe sat down on the cement and forcefully grabbed Mihashi's hand off his shin to hold in his own, he couldn't help but remember their first game together. The one against Mihoshi; the sudden swell of knowing what he had to do and the hope that Mihashi would stay with him and not go back. It was the game where he knew something had evolved.

"You ok?" Abe asked after a long moment. How could he let something like this happen; he needed to show Hanai how to interrogate new members more thoroughly.

Mihashi seemed to stiffen his shivering before he nodded his head. He still hadn't lifted his face from his knees.

"Come on, they're just stupid first-years," Abe continued to talk, "They don't know anything. Don't think about them."

This seemed to coax Mihashi at least to lower his legs to stretch out before him, his eyes welled with tears that made Abe wince. Even in all their time working together, he had never gotten used to Mihashi crying.

"You're the ace for the team rightfully," Abe stated seriously, "Don't let anyone else tell you that. You're my pitcher, if you weren't good enough I would have thrown you away long ago."

Mihashi seemed to tense at this and Abe mentally slapped himself, no need to further scare him. Comfort, comfort! It had never been one of Abe's strong points.

But Mihashi surprised him by saying through hiccups and sniffs, "S-Say that a-again."

"If you weren't good enough I wouldn't pay you attention?"

"N-No, before that."

"That you're my pitcher?"

Abe mentally slapped himself again; that damn possessive. So Mihashi really had picked up on it.

"Again!" Mihashi cheered, moving his body to fully face Abe, tears drying up in an instant, although his face seemed redder then before.

"You're my pitcher."

Mihashi's smile covered his face and his eyes rolled back before collapsing against the ground.

Abe didn't know what to think anymore. Was he happy? Annoyed? Even angry? He was acted weirder then normal. But then Mihashi stood with a start, still holding Abe's hand and so pulling him up along with him.

"I'm Abe's pitcher!" he suddenly yelled out to the empty school grounds as he raised their held hands.

Abe blinked. What. The. Fuck.

Had those first-years hit Mihashi's head with their bats or something? Abe had never heard him yell that loud of with such conviction before.

But then Mihashi had turned to him with a smaller grin, and eyes seemed to glimmer. Abe suddenly felt out of place, uncomfortable as the bright-haired teenager looked up at him in wonder and admiration.

"I'm yours," Mihashi stated.

Abe took a moment to nod in agreement.

Mihashi nodded himself, as if to say 'Good, don't forget it,' before beginning to slowly walk away. He seemed to still forget that he was holding Abe's hand in something close to a death-grip as the catcher stumbled to follow; Abe forgot how strong his hand was from his pitching.

But Abe noticed it wasn't cold anymore, it was warm. Almost a little too warm.

Oh, wait, that was him.

Stupid possessive pronouns.

AN: This one got a little away from me, but I still like how it turned out ;D [You can never go wrong with fluff, right?]