XXX CHAPTER 45 XXX

If forced to write another "whatilove" hashtag for Edward, Emmett could have waxed poetic about the players' first day back onto the turf. The ground is still more mud than grass and the air holds more of winter's bite than anyone wants to admit, but none of that matters because it's time to play again. As he collected Sawyer from his homeroom, Emmett pulled in a deep breath of spring ball—albeit tee-ball. Until he was signed, this was the only field Emmett would be sniffing this spring.

Edward had been cagey about his Lumpsucker uniform last night, stuffing the plastic-wrapped clothing into his gym bag with a frustrated sigh and tossing the bag to the back of his closet with a don't-even-think-about-it glare at his curious boyfriend. Seeing the uniform now on Sawyer, Emmett understood Edward's less than enthusiastic response. Given the choice, Edward wouldn't be the guy prancing around in skintight knickers—but then, nobody had given him the choice. There was a part of Emmett—a large, excitable part tucked into his jeans—that wasn't all that upset about the prospect of watching that ass in those pants for the next ten weeks, even if he had to watch from the sidelines.

Today was a test, and Emmett would pass with flying colors. He'd deliver Sawyer to the appointed field at the appointed time, and he'd sit his ass down in the folding chair and behave like any other parent-guardian-nanny in the crowd, just as he'd promised Edward—repeatedly.

Emmett couldn't have said what made him pick that World Champions Mariners jersey out of the laundry pile that morning. It wasn't a conscious act. Maybe Emmett needed his boyfriend to feel his presence, even ache for Emmett, since that's what this next ninety minutes were going to be for him—one long-ass ache—and wearing number sixty-nine was a pretty goddamn good guarantee.

He and Sawyer waited their turn to check in with the coach—rather patiently, Emmett thought—behind anxious mothers with eager players and anxious players with eager mothers. Edward's glance landed on the "Mariners" running across Emmett's chest in bold, teal lettering. Edward's eyes told the whole story; otherwise, he remained admirably composed. Emmett couldn't figure out how, considering what a hard time he was having.

"Hey, man." Emmett extended his hand.

"Emmett McCarty," Edward answered with a polite smile. "I'm a big fan."

Emmett let out a grin. At least Edward wasn't going to pretend he didn't know who he was. "Yep, I am he, and this is my nephew, Sawyer."

Edward reached to shake Sawyer's hand. "Very nice to finally meet you." Realizing his little slip, Edward gave a slight shake of his head.

Just then, the infamous dragon lady boss grabbed Emmett's elbow and dragged him to one side. "Mr. McCarty, please allow me to introduce myself and welcome you officially to Seven Hills. My name is Rosalie Hale, and if there's anything at all we can do to make your visit here more comfortable, I hope you won't hesitate to ask."

A gin and tonic would be nice. "Thank you. I've got my chair here, and I'm just going to fade into the crowd and let the coach do his job."

They glanced together toward the field, where Edward was doing his best to organize a batting drill on the muddy turf. Emmett's ears pricked up when he heard Sawyer's name.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, stepping around Rosalie to yell encouragement to his nephew through cupped hands. "Lean into it, Soy! Yesss!"

The boy snapped one straight out to the mound, a bullet aimed for Edward's stomach.

"Ooomph!" Edward held up his hand like a cliff diver giving the lifeguards the international "all-clear" signal.

Oh shit. Look away from the trainwreck. "So, my sister tells me they're very pleased with Sawyer's teacher."

Rosalie's face lit up, smiling out of every cosmetically-concealed pore. "I'm thrilled to hear it. I hope his extracurricular time proves to be productive as well." She pulled her lips into a teeth-baring smile. "Along those lines, I wondered if you might be coerced into offering your services . . . on the ball field, that is."

Jesus Christ. Was that meant to be charming?

Emmett turned to watch Edward drag the tub of mud-covered balls back to the tee. "Looks like your man is doing just fine out there."

"Hmm. Looks to me as though he could use a hand, especially one that's been around the bases a few times." Her attempt to purr fell flat. "We can offer you a stipend—obviously, your time is worth so much more than a few thousand dollars, but I'm sure you understand the constraints of budgeting. We don't exactly have the salary cap of Major League Baseball at our disposal here."

Emmett cleared his throat. The subject of salary caps was not one he was in any position to discuss with anyone other than his agent, and it was a bit of a sore topic at the moment. "I couldn't possibly take money."

Rosalie grasped his wrist. "You'll do it, then?"

Emmett's heart plummeted. Now he was going to come off as a jerk, which maybe he was, but not for the reasons Rosalie would think. "I really don't think your coach would welcome the intrusion."

She swatted his concern away with a perfectly manicured hand. "Peeshaw! Dr. Cullen tells me he's a huge fan of baseball. You'll have him eating out of the palm of your hand in no time."

Dr. Cullen is going to rip my nuts off and eat them for dinner.

There was only one solution—the coward's way out—and Emmett hung his head and took it. "You run it by your coach. If he gives his blessing, I'm more than happy to help."

XXX

Edward had a full head of steam by the time he hurtled through the garage door, slamming it so hard behind him, it shook the pieces on the chess board Emmett was studying. There wasn't a defense in either volume of Alekhine that could save Emmett's ass this time, and he knew it. He stood on shaky legs and braced himself for the onslaught.

"You told Rose"—Edward pounded a clenched fist against his thigh—"that Sawyer wasn't receiving the best possible coaching advice? How could you?"

"What? I didn't say that!"

Edward dropped his bag on the floor, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave Emmett a hard glare.

Emmett started to approach him but thought better of it. With two outstretched palms, he implored Edward to believe him. "Edward, I swear I didn't say that. Your boss is a little psycho."

"No shit." Edward huffed. "Welcome to the crazy. Looks like she's your boss now, too."

Despite everything, Emmett smiled. "You said yes?"

"Like I had a choice? The great Emmett McCarty volunteered his services!" The vein above Edward's right eye was swollen and angry-looking. Come to think of it, so was Edward's whole face.

Trying a softer approach, Emmett dropped his hands. "She cornered me. I told her I'd do it only if you said it was okay."

"Goddammit, Emmett! Do you have any idea how hard this is gonna be for me?"

Emmett stepped forward again, only to be stopped in his tracks by a firm, "Don't. I mean it."

So Emmett had been wrong. Edward could get angry with him after all. The revelation terrified him.

Thoroughly defeated, Emmett shrank back. "Tell me how to fix this."

"You can't. It's too late."

"Do you want me to leave?" The words pulled Emmett's guts out as they left his throat.

"I don't know."

Fuck. If he wasn't kicked out, Emmett was staying. He desperately wanted to tell Edward it would be fine. Surely, the two of them could stand on a field together without the whole world knowing they were lovers. Especially if Edward was going to continue to glare at him like this.

"I'm sorry. I never should've brought Soy today. This whole situation is my problem, and I'm the one botching everything up."

The hard lines of Edward's mouth edged into a frown. "This 'whole situation' is our relationship, and therefore, it is our problem." Stepping forward, Edward met Emmett toe-to-toe. "We'll solve it together."

Emmett choked back the lump sitting in his throat. "Okay." Cautiously, Emmett leaned forward, silently begging Edward's permission while he closed the distance between their lips.

Edward kissed him back. "I'm starved."

Finally, Emmett allowed himself a smile. "I made dinner." He pointed to the pizza box sitting on the counter.

"Sausage and extra cheese?"

"Yep."

Edward let a grin escape though Emmett suspected he didn't mean to. Reaching down, he unzipped his bag and pulled out a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"Your consent form for a CORI check. You don't have a criminal record by any wild chance, do you?" The hopeful note in Edward's tone made Emmett chuckle.

"Sorry. I'm clean as a whistle." Emmett glanced down at Edward's mud-stained knickers. "Unlike you, my dirty little lumpsucker."

Edward's nose scrunched in distaste. "Yeah, I need to get the hell out of these pants."

"I was beginning to worry I wouldn't hear those words tonight."

Edward breezed past him toward the bedroom, grumbling all the way. "I can't believe I need to wear a cup to coach kindergarteners."

"This I gotta see."

The bedroom door closed before Emmett could slide his foot into the opening. From the other side, Edward called out, "Put the pizza in the oven to reheat. And don't forget to take it out of the box this time, slick!"

The storm had passed—for now.

XXX

Drawing out Edward's irritation during practices turned out to be Emmett's most effective strategy to curtail his boyfriend's fawning, and Emmett played his part with gusto. Rosalie required a bit of sweet-talking before agreeing Emmett could forego the Lumpsucker uniform for his own, but it was worth every syllable to see Edward's face when he trotted onto the field in his Mariner home whites. Chomping on bubble gum and even the occasional chaw added to Emmett's obnoxious behavior just enough to keep Edward edgy and keep them both out of trouble. The crotch scratching was entirely gratuitous, but once Emmett assumed his role of diva ballplayer, he could hardly be stopped.

Rosalie kept a suspicious eye on the two of them, probably worried that her math teacher would blow up at her superstar attraction, considering the way they were acting toward each other. But also because she couldn't keep her damn eyes—not to mention her hands—off Emmett, a situation that further inflamed poor Edward.

Behind closed doors, Emmett reassured him nightly that Rosalie's attentions were nothing but a nuisance, and Edward reassured Emmett that he was still fanatical in his affections. A casual tease after practice one day—Emmett winging his cap at Edward with a playful wink and, "See you in your dreams"—turned the hat into their private totem, a symbol of both the play-acting on the field and the intimacy of their bed. The hat moved with them through the season—on the tee-ball field, then home again—reminding them both they were in this together. And thus, they rolled through the four weeks of practices unscathed in public, rejuvenated in private.

Game day brought new challenges, namely, a wider audience, which spelled more pressure on Edward to perform for the parents. The group of kindergarteners who happened to have chosen tee-ball as their spring extra-curricular activity did not necessarily possess any skill for the game; Sawyer was the exception rather than the rule. While Emmett's professionally honed instincts looked for the win, Edward's talent with the kids stole the day. Despite the wide range of abilities, Edward seemed to understand how to put each kid in a position to succeed, and Emmett was smart enough to appreciate his glimpse of Dr. Edward Cullen in his natural habitat.

The first window into Edward's secret life as a teacher appeared in the form of a slight red-haired girl with a facial tic that wouldn't quit. Over Emmett's strategic objections, Edward insisted on batting Victoria first—the first batter in the first inning of their first game. With Emmett poised near the plate, prepared to guide Victoria down the baseline to first, Edward crouched next to the girl.

"You're up, Victoria. Swing just like we did in practice and run to first base."

The girl glanced out toward third base and nodded.

Patient as ever, Edward smiled and pointed toward first. "That way."

"Okay, coach."

She gave him a solemn nod, pinched her eyes closed, and swung the bat with all her might. As shocked as the rest of the crowd, Victoria opened her astonished eyes in time to watch the ball sail toward third. Emmett jumped up and down along the baseline, coaxing her to safety.

The next time she stepped up to the tee, she was visibly different: confident, capable, and ready. By their fourth game, Victoria was virtually tic-free. And she was but one story among many Emmett witnessed. Whatever the kids' challenges, Edward faced them head-on, with heart and mind wide open.

Though it nearly killed him to stifle his pride on the field, Emmett lavished Edward with praise in the sanctuary of their nights and weekends alone.

"I hope you realize what you've done for Victoria is going to impact the rest of her life."

Edward's cheeks pinked up. Twisting spaghetti around his fork suddenly became all-consuming. "I'm glad it all worked out."

"Scoring runs is a bonus, but that isn't necessarily the part she'll take away from the experience."

Edward stopped twirling to shoot a quizzical look at Emmett.

"Have you noticed she's not as twitchy when she steps up to bat?"

The praise was too much for him. Edward shook his head and protested. "She's six. I seriously doubt she'll remember much."

"What she's going to remember is that her coach believed in her. You can trust me on that."

In full-on blush mode, Edward turned back to his bowl. "That means a lot to me, Em."

Emmett reached his feet across the space beneath the table and captured Edward's legs between his own. Satisfied he'd made his point, Emmett broke off a hunk of garlic bread and tucked it past his broad grin.

Across the table, Edward sipped thoughtfully at his Chianti. "I know I'm not supposed to play favorites, but Sawyer's a real standout."

"I wouldn't worry. I'm sure Soy wouldn't accuse you of favoritism." Emmett delivered his line with a light chuckle, but Edward's eyebrows shot up.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Emmett's heart pounded out a warning, but they were already sliding down the slippery slope. "You're treating him just like every other kid on the field."

"Is that bad? Has he said something?"

Sensing trouble, Emmett tightened his grip on Edward's legs. "He's fine. He's a kid, playing well above the field in a game that doesn't recognize winning. It's bound to lead to a bit of frustration."

Edward sank back into his chair with a loud sigh. "I don't want him to be frustrated."

"It's not a bad thing. He's more motivated than I've ever seen him. Sometimes, it's important to have an obstacle or two in your way."

"I don't want to be his obstacle." Edward worried the stem of his wine glass between his fingertips, churning the wine so it sloshed to the edges of the goblet. "I want to encourage him, but not by making him hate me!"

Lurching forward, Emmett covered Edward's shaky hand with his own. "Whoa, there. Nobody hates you." And how the hell did we get here? "Sawyer's learning what it means to be part of a team. It's a lesson he may as well learn now."

Edward's mouth formed a straight line. "I should be able to teach to all levels. That's my job. I do it in the classroom; the field's no different."

"You're herding cats and doing a bang-up job. Everyone understands."

"Everyone? Ugh . . . Alice and Jasper are upset with me, too?" The last time Emmett had seen Edward this miserable was the day Emmett tried to break it off with him, the day they first kissed.

"Nobody's upset. Tee-ball is not about winning; you've said it yourself countless times. And don't worry about Sawyer's skills. I'm taking care of that myself."

"All this time, I've kept away from Sawyer at school. And now, when I have the perfect chance to get to know him and make a good impression, it turns out I'm doing the exact opposite. I really wanted him to like me."

"Sawyer likes you just fine. Jasper and Alice adore you. And as soon as I finish this delicious meal, I'm going to come over there and show you exactly how I feel about you."

Edward groaned. "I knew this coaching gig was a terrible idea."

"Hey! Can we rewind please? Remember the part of this conversation where I was singing your praises?"

Edward gave him a grudging shrug.

"Dammit, Edward, you're a wonderful coach. You're patient and kind and fair and committed and—"

"Okay, okay."

Emmett reached over and cupped Edward's chin. "All that said, you tell the kid to aim for my nuts again, and you're getting more than a casual slap on your ass." Emmett delivered his threat with as stern a face as he could muster, considering the visual of Edward turned over his knee.

Finally, Edward smiled. "I already explained; I told him to aim between your knees."

"Humf! I guess Soy and I still have a bit of work to do on his aim." Emmett leaned in and kissed him.

"You'll let me know if I need to worry about Sawyer?"

"Of course, but you don't. I promise."

Author's Note: HOORAY! We've finally looped back to Benched! So now you know what was happening behind the scenes while Emmett and Edward appeared to be "fighting" on the field. Tensions are mounting at home as well, with Emmett not yet being signed by the Mariners (let's use our imaginations here, please, as I grossly obscured the MLB timeline without realizing it in Benched!) and Edward ready to implode with all his feelings for Emmett—in his Mariners uniform, no less! At times like these, it's best to remember we already know their HEA. :)
XXX ~BOH