Author's Note: This is for you, 26Chapters. You didn't ask me to write this, but I read one of your one-shots and you mentioned that someone should write a fic where Abbie takes Crane to a Mets game like she said she would. Well, here you go. Hope you like it. This isn't my best story of Ichabbie, but it's cute enough. The ending is my favorite. :) ;) Abbie's birthday surprise will be next. :)

She blindfolded him and wouldn't tell him where she was taking him. He found it rather annoying.

"Leftenant, is this really necessary? Must I be blindfolded as we reach our destination?"

"I told you it's a surprise, Crane. We're almost there."

He sighed. "Are you sure?"

When she didn't answer him, he didn't say anything else. They rode in silence until the car stopped. Crane tried to remove his blindfold, but Abbie pushed his hand away.

"Hasn't the motor vehicle ceased?"

"Yes, but you can't take it off yet."

He heard her take off her seatbelt. "Where are you going?"

Her response was closing her door. "Leftenant?"

He felt the door on his side open. Crane had not the slightest idea of what Abbie was planning.

"Out. Give me your hand."

His hand funbled around until he found his seatbelt. It clicked when he hit the button. Abbie grabbed his hand and helped him out. He heard his door close.

"Leftenant, where are we?"

Her hands were on the back of his head, untying his blindfold. He gasped when he could finally see and stared at her with his mouth open. People around him wore Mets jerseys, hats, and stuck foam fingers on their hands. He thought the outside of the stadium was enormous.

"Happy birthday, Crane." She smiled at him.

"You shouldn't have, Leftenant. I can't accept this."

"I already bought tickets. Plus, I told you I would take you to a Mets game one day. You forgot?"

He avoided her eyes. "Perhaps."

She laughed at him and grabbed his hand. "And you said you have an eidetic memory."

"Well, we are fighting a war."

"We're taking a break today."

"One we both need."

Abbie nodded her head. "Let's go get some food. You're buying."

"'Bad beer and cold hotdogs' as you stated? You said it would 'blow my mind.'"

"Your memory is kicking in I see."

"Indeed."

Abbie laughed at him and they walked inside the stadium. Crane was amazed at all the people he saw. There were little children, young adults, the elderly. He gaped in awe at the variety of people that walked by him: African-American, Caucasian, Hispanic, Asian.

"It is true," he said as he grabbed their food from the counter, "that this sport does not discriminate. I am honored to see such unity in one physical activity. It is astounding and inspiring. It's a new world."

Abbie grabbed her beer and hotdog from him. "It is nice to see how we're all so different, but are able to come together, even if it is for a sport."

He nodded his head. "Agreed. Shall we take our seats?"

"We shall."

"Did you enjoy the game, basketface?" Abbie said. She threw away her beer bottle and hotdog container; Crane did the same.

"I did. Very much so. Thank you, Abbie." He grabbed her hands and pulled them aside. He didn't want them in the way of anyone. The Mets lost, and he didn't want a baseball fan to take their frustration out on him or Abbie.

"We should do this again. Next time, we'll have to get better seats. And try not to argue with anyone else about where baseball originated. We don't want to get kicked out."

"I shall 'keep my cool' as you mentioned." He paused and placed his hand on her cheek. "Thank you, Abbie. Really. It was the best birthday present I've ever received."

"You're very welcome. Is it better than red velvet cake?" She lifted her eyebrow at him.

"I'm afraid nothing comes close to cake."

"It's waiting at the cabin. With chocolate ice cream."

"You know me so well." He kissed her forehead. "Perhaps we should play baseball, Miss Mills."

"Seriously? You don't know how to play baseball any more than I know how to cook."

"I think you've missed my point." He wrapped his hands around her waist.

"Care to demonstrate, Mr. Crane?"

"First base." He kissed her lips.

"What's second?"

His fingers appeared under her shirt, rubbed up and down her back, and settled above her butt.

"Go on."

Crane pulled her closer towards him. "Third base and then it's a home run."

"Shall we go play ball, Captain?"

"We shall, Leftenant."