XXX CHAPTER 49 XXX

Still sitting around in your underwear?

Yep. How's your day going?

Everything went great. Lots of love and support. A couple of guys can't figure out why I don't want them.

HA! Lemme guess who!

I do have bad news for you. You're going to need to put some clothes on. I am taking you out on the town tonight!

OUT?

Yes. As in a DATE.

Sounds pretty crazy.

Living life outside the closet. Can you drive to the beach? I have a place in mind in the city.

Should I meet you at the restaurant?

No. IT'S A DATE, not a hookup! And it's a surprise. Be here by 4:30.

4:30? Are we going for the early bird special?

A really hilarious image of the two of them, all old and gray, popped into Emmett's head. They were sitting across from each other in a big booth, bent over and studying their menus through dark-rimmed reading glasses. The waiter came to take their orders, and Edward was asking a million questions. Emmett jumped in and said, "He'll have the meatloaf and mashed potatoes." Of course, Edward protested and insisted he wanted the jambalaya, and Emmett had to remind him the sausage made him gassy.

It's called pre-gaming.

Whatever you say. It's your day.

Oh, Edward, wait till you find out exactly how much of a day I'm having. You'll need a jacket.

This is starting to sound serious.

Nah. A tie would be serious. Stop trying to pump me for information!

Ok. 4:30 at the beach with my jacket. Anything else?

Maybe wear those pants you wore to the Capital Grille?

I'm supposed to remember what pants I wore last June? That was almost a year ago!

Do you remember what pants I wore?

Of course!

Emmett wondered if there would ever be a point in their relationship when Edward would truly comprehend that Emmett had wanted him as much as he'd wanted Emmett. The gray slacks you wore to drive me crazy. Those pants.

I didn't even know you were looking.

Now that, Emmett believed. Sure.

Let me ask you something. Was anyone NOT surprised today by your news? It figured the professor would argue the point with logic.

Nope.

I rest my case.

You're not just anyone. You're gay. Your system is more sensitive.

Apparently, my server was down.

It looked like it was up to me. :)

Groan. I believe we have hit the wall.

Suit yourself, Prof. See you soon.

Wait—you didn't hear from Scott today?

I have nothing to report.

Sorry.

It's all good. We're celebrating tonight.

XXX

"Day-umm, Professor! Don't you look snazzy?" Emmett reached his hand to Edward's cheek. "And smooth as a baby's bottom. Just the way I like it."

Edward's face turned three shades of pink. "You're not so bad yourself. For a jock."

The two of them stood in the garage, eyeing each other up and down before climbing into the Spyder.

"Shouldn't you be opening the door for me?" Edward asked with a grin.

Truth be told, if Emmett hadn't been so nervous, he would've done exactly that. "Can I take a rain check on that one, sweetheart?"

"Just drive, loverboy."

It would only be a matter of minutes before Edward figured out their destination—unless Emmett could successfully distract him. "You smell especially nice. New aftershave?"

"Birthday present from my mother . . . about six years ago. I don't wear it much, but it seemed we were going all out tonight."

Emmett grinned at him. "You should wear it more often. And the jacket, too."

"I don't get many opportunities to dress up."

"Oh, you will. No escaping the spotlight now. Charity events, team soirees, all kinds of hoity-toity shit."

"Wonderful." Edward rolled his eyes, but Emmett saw the hint of a smile.

"Isn't it?" For once, the stream of appearances and dog-and-pony shows didn't seem so oppressive to Emmett, especially if Edward was going to show up looking that hot.

"Are we going to Safeco?"

Well, that didn't take very long. Emmett had no choice but to laugh. "Yes. I need to swing by and pick something up."

"Right now?"

Emmett shrugged. "Seaver said he left something for me in my locker. It's right on the way. You can stay in the car if you'd like." There was zero chance Edward would pass up an opportunity to visit the locker room, even if nobody was in it but them.

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "I'll come in."

Stepping a bit heavier on the gas pedal, Emmett steered them to Safeco, purposely driving to an unpopulated parking section so as not to raise further suspicion. Edward reached for his door handle, and Emmett shot out of the car.

"Wait! Let me get that for you." Emmett opened the door to find Edward laughing and shaking his head.

Emmett's offered hand was batted away. "Cut that shit out!"

"Okay, but I'm paying for dinner, and you're putting out."

With an agreeable chuckle, Edward nodded. "So what else is new?"

Emmett took his hand a second later as they walked across the lot, and this time, Edward didn't protest. Mind racing and heart pounding, Emmett towed Edward toward the mayhem that was about to greet them on the other side of those doors. A sharp tug on his hand drew him back to Edward's side.

"What was that for?"

Edward smiled at Emmett as if seeing him for the first time—no, not the first time they met, Emmett realized, but the first time Edward took him out running. "Slow down."

"Whatsa matter? Your high heels bothering you?"

Edward rolled his eyes at the gentle dig. "It's your pace. Have you forgotten everything I've taught you?"

Grinning, Emmett shot back, "We're not running a marathon here, Coach. Just trying to get to the door."

"We're on a date. Let's enjoy it." Edward stepped forward with his usual maddening deliberateness.

Emmett sucked in a deep breath and matched Edward's pace though every step was a trial. Finally reaching the building, Emmett pulled open the door and led Edward down the narrow hallway to the locker room. The enormity of the moment gained mass with each step, weighing down Emmett's entire being like a yacht being dragged across miles of dry land.

They'd reached the door. Emmett debated saying something to Edward but opted for a kiss instead. "I'm really glad you're here."

Slightly dazzled by the unexpected show of emotion, Edward tilted his head. "In the hallway?"

"In general," Emmett answered.

"Okay."

Leaving Edward to shake his head and wonder about Emmett's sanity, he tugged open the door. Scott greeted him first, pulling Emmett into a tight hug.

"Ready?" he mumbled into Emmett's ear.

"So ready."

Scott nodded. "They're waiting for you in the press room." He craned his neck around Emmett's shoulder. "That your guy?"

Edward was standing by the door, looking mildly confused but mostly trying not to get in the way. Emmett gestured for him.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet. Scott Moran, this is Edward Cullen."

Scott led with an outstretched arm and gave Edward a big, boisterous handshake. "Very nice to meet you."

"Thanks. You as well."

"Okay, here's how this is gonna work." Scott wrapped his arm around Emmett's shoulders and guided him toward the press room while they talked. "You're going to sit down at the table and sign the papers—"

"Papers? It's done?"

Scott turned toward Edward and laughed. "You didn't tell him?"

Edward jumped in front of Emmett and grabbed him with both hands. "You're signing with the Mariners? Right now?"

"Yes, babe. Right this second. As soon as I can get my ass in there."

"Shit! Sorry!" Edward released Emmett from his grip and started to back away.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm getting out of your way! Go sign!"

"I'm not doing this without you. Get over here!"

"What?" Edward looked back and forth between Scott and Emmett, waiting for one of them to explain.

Emmett took Edward's hands in his. "I want you next to me when I go in there."

"You do?"

"Yes."

Edward looked to Scott for confirmation, and he waved his hand toward the door. "Shall we?"

Emmett completely forgot his case of nerves, watching Edward attempt to manage his. Edward was a record with the needle stuck on, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." For a few seconds, Emmett worried he might actually need to leave Edward behind—for everyone's sake.

Scott shot Emmett a deal-with-that glare as he reached for the handle.

"Edward!" Emmett's sharp tone cut through Edward's crazed mumbling. "I need you. Can you do this?"

Edward nodded and croaked out a semi-convincing, "Yes."

Emmett gave him a reassuring smile, and Scott opened the door. Shutters whirred, and flashes lit up the room—the thunder and lightning of the press was upon them. Jack Zduriencik stood and offered his hand.

"Mr. Z."

"Mac."

The room fell silent as Emmett and Scott took their seats together on the other side of the glass conference table. Edward found the nearest slice of wall to lean against. Papers were passed; documents were signed. Emmett posed with the GM while photographers captured the image from every imaginable angle.

Scott wrapped one arm around Emmett's back and shook his hand with the other. "We did it, Mac."

"You did it."

Scott chuckled. "Well, I suppose you're right, but you had to stay patient. I know that isn't a small thing to ask when one's career is hanging in the balance."

Emmett craned his neck to look for Edward. "I've come to learn that patience isn't exactly my strong suit, but we're working on it. Aren't we, Edward?"

Hugging the wall for all he was worth, Edward offered a shy smile.

"They need you to hit the microphones now." Scott followed Emmett's anxious glance at his boyfriend. "I'll keep your man company. Go do your thing."

"Okay."

The questions came fast and furious: How many years would he be staying in Seattle? As long as they'll have me. What were the holdouts? We felt it was important to push for a seven-year contract. Your contract for a total of two hundred twenty million is the highest in the league. How did that feel? It feels good. Was that a trick question?

Emmett charmed them at every turn, taking their questions with ease and humor. The reporters ate it up.

"Can you top your performance from 2014?"

"Well, I don't see how we can do better than winning the Series."

Mr. Z gave him a tip of the head for that one. Keep it about the team. Stay humble.

"Are you ready for spring training?"

Emmett chuffed. "I want to say yes, but I know I'll be a little bit rusty and a whole lot sore. It happens every year, but it's nothing our coaching staff can't work out by our first game."

"What have you been doing all winter to stay sharp?"

Emmett aimed a double-dimpled smile directly at Edward. "I've been studying the game of chess and coaching tee-ball."

"Any plans for the signing bonus?"

He answered without hesitation. "Yes. I'm going to take my boyfriend out to a very fancy dinner."

The room erupted with follow-up questions, flashes, and clicks. Emmett formed a fist with his pitching hand and raised it into the air. "Go, Mariners! Thank you, everyone."

Emmett left the platform and made a beeline for Edward. Edward's expression changed from sheer pride to pure terror as he realized the cameras and microphones were following Emmett's determined charge. Without giving Edward a chance to retreat, Emmett closed the distance between them and swooped in for a kiss. In the interest of good taste and family-friendly ratings, Emmett kept the kiss relatively clean and fairly quick, at least by his standards.

Still, it was enough to leave Edward breathless.

Emmett chuckled and took Edward by the hand. "I am famished. Can we get out of here, please?"

XXX

"This was a very good day." And getting better by the second. "Would you hurry up, please? I've been waiting all night for those pants to come off."

Edward glanced over at the bed. "What did Scott tell you about your patience?"

"He told me you should get your ass in this bed right now."

"Did he, now?"

Emmett figured his wise-ass comment would cost him a slow motion strip job at the very minimum, so he was caught completely off-guard when Edward tore off the rest of his clothing and hurled himself on top of a very naked Emmett.

"Wow. That's more like it!"

Edward rolled his eyes and clenched his thighs around Emmett's hips. "Okay, wise guy, flip me."

Emmett smirked. "Is this about that crack at the game yesterday?" It was nearly impossible to believe only thirty hours had passed since they'd rolled around together on the tee-ball field.

The whole world had changed since yesterday.

"Yep. You think I'm too light? Flip me."

After a couple of experimental hip thrusts, Emmett was pretty convinced he wasn't flipping anyone. "Nah, I kind of like you on top." Not entirely untrue.

Edward gave him one of his famous I'm-onto-you smirks but sealed it with a kiss. "Tired of pitching, baby? Somebody probably should've told the Mariners before they re-signed you for the Highest. Salary. In the history. Of baseball."

"I will never get tired of pitching to you. Have I not made that clear?"

"Oh, abundantly," Edward said, adding a jiggle of his hips. "Buuuut, if you ever do want to take a walk on the wild side and see how the other half lives, you know I'm happy to give it a go for you."

"You are too fucking good to me, baby. Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll stick with door number one."

"I'm good with that, too."

Emmett had to chuckle at the look of mild relief on Edward's face. He had no doubt his partner would try anything for him—as Emmett happily would for Edward—but for now, this worked pretty fucking well. "You know, our celebration kiss is breaking Twitter tonight."

Edward grinned. "I was up to fifteen thousand retweets when we left the restaurant."

"It's because you're so fucking hot."

Edward's laughter shook the bed. "It's because you kiss like an animal, and every human being with functioning hormones is wishing they were at the other end of it."

Emmett shot up and cupped his hand behind Edward's neck. "How are your hormones working tonight, Dr. Cullen?" Before Edward could answer the entirely rhetorical question, Emmett plundered his boyfriend—lips, tongue, teeth, and all.

The kiss wore on, with Edward's perfect ass gyrating against Emmett's erection until the singular thought—must get inside—obliterated every other impulse. Unwilling to break their kiss, Emmett tossed the lube to Edward, who rose onto his knees to work his fingers inside. Ever the helpful partner, Emmett ran his hands down Edward's back, squeezed the sweet fleshy cheeks, and stretched them apart.

A cool, slick hand wrapped around Emmett's cock, drawing a deep groan. The two lovers worked in well-rehearsed tandem, Emmett's stiff rod held in place while Edward lined up above him.

They held their kiss until the rutting sucked away all available oxygen, settling instead for nipping at each other's lips and noses and necks and ears. The advantage to not kissing while fucking, Emmett had figured out long ago, was that he could watch Edward's face: the intensity burning behind the shimmering green depths, the expressive arch of his eyebrows, the curl and twist of a mouth torn between ache and ecstasy. And of course, the occasional grin, which was possibly Emmett's favorite of all of Edward's expressions.

Between shallow breaths, Emmett probed into the mind resting against his own forehead. "What are you . . . grinning about . . . over there?"

"Just thinking . . . Can you imagine if they got hold of this footage?"

Emmett sent a rough thrust inside his lover. "Kinky."

Edward's grin turned into a full-blown smile. He leaned in and found Emmett's tongue with his own.

Emmett saw his opportunity, and like the champion he was, he seized it by the balls. Wrapping two tight arms around Edward's lower back, Emmett heaved his weight forward, flattening Edward's back against the mattress.

One very surprised lover blinked up at him. "What the hell was that?"

With a smug waggle of his eyebrows, Emmett answered, "Consider yourself flipped."

XXX

They slept like two rocks—two very much in love, out and proud, perfectly contented rocks.

Edward was first to stir, and he wasn't his usual quiet, considerate self when he woke. "Good morning, sunshine."

Emmett's eyes cracked open to the bright light blaring in through the opened shades. He grabbed Edward's pillow and pulled it over his head with a loud groan. "It's my last day off! Let me sleep!"

The mattress dipped with Edward's weight; the covers were pulled away.

"It's already 10:30. Your adoring public is waiting for you. Get up and be adored."

Emmett tossed the pillow across the bed. "10:30? Why the hell did you let me sleep so late?"

Shaking his head, Edward answered, "I just woke up, myself. You must have a jillion phone calls to get to."

"A jillion, huh?" Emmett smirked. "I think I might be rubbing off on you. Oh wait, yes, I did—several times."

"Charming. I'll put the coffee on while you hop in the shower."

Emmett chuffed. "Is that a hint?"

"It was a plea."

Emmett's glance drifted to Edward's lap. "No offense, Professor, but you're not exactly clean as a whistle over there."

"I noticed that, too. I'm getting in the shower as soon as you're done."

"Or, we could conserve our precious natural resources and shower together . . ." Emmett applied all his powers of persuasion, but Edward was already shaking his head.

"Oh, no. If I get in there with you, we won't come out before noon!"

"Damn, you've got a point there." Drained of all problem-solving skills, Emmett gave up. "In that case, I'll meet you at the coffeemaker in ten."

The general sense of well-being and rightness with the world had followed Emmett into Sunday, it seemed. He emerged from his shower with a heart that was both filled to the brim and light as helium.

Tying a lazy knot in his sweatpants, Emmett stared into his tee-shirt drawer. Definitely a day for Smiley Joe. As he pushed his arms through the sleeves of the well-worn gray tee, Emmett smiled wider than the orange face sitting on his chest.

Bracing himself, Emmett unplugged his phone from the charger and glanced down at the screen. Eighty-nine missed calls. Seventy-five voice messages. One hundred thirty-eight texts. Three hundred twelve emails. Oh boy.

Need coffee now.

The heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee drew Emmett into the kitchen. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the table, and in the seat across from it sat Emmett's steamy man, wearing a pair of sleep pants he'd left at Emmett's for just such occasions.

Edward glanced up from his phone. "Our kiss was favorited by over five thousand people so far."

"Holy shit! Maybe we should consider a career in porn."

Edward chuckled. "Why don't you ask Scott if your new contract has a morality clause?"

"How about your contract? You didn't get any flak from the school, did you?"

"It seems Rosalie has been fielding phone calls from any 'concerned parents' for me."

"She's a good woman to have on your team," Emmett said.

"Truly. We'll have to see what tomorrow brings, but you don't have to worry about me, Em. I've been out for fifteen years, and it was all over my resume when they hired me—my professional and community affiliations. There's no way they could take any kind of action against me, and nobody's even hinting at it."

"Okay. I'd hate for you to suffer any backlash."

"I can't imagine any level of backlash that would make me regret this for one second . . . although, I did get a few interesting messages tweeted at me."

Somewhat relieved to know Edward's job sounded safe, Emmett's worries shifted to his ɸ69fanatic persona. "How interesting?"

"Just a wee bit colorful, nothing you haven't heard before. They're either ignorant or just plain jealous." A certain twinkle appeared in Edward's eye. "I seem to have a guardian angel tweeter or two fighting the good fight, so I don't have to involve myself. Plus, not that I care, but for every follower who left, I picked up a thousand new ones."

"Huh! Lemme know when you overtake me."

"Pshh, yeah right. They're just trying to get a glimpse of you through me. Maybe I should start posting candids of you in all your glory."

"Speaking of my glory, did I tell you Scott thinks I should do underwear ads?"

"Fuck me! Really?" Edward looked like the love child of Christmas morning and the Fourth of July.

"You are a piece of work, Professor. You can pretty much see me naked any time you want, and you're sitting over there getting excited about underwear?"

"You're right. I should stand much closer." Edward rounded the table and pushed Emmett's tee-shirt out of his way. "You should do Calvin Klein. Classic, elegant, tastefully sexy . . . it's you all over."

Emmett's fingers found their way to Edward's hair as he drifted into Edward's imaginary photo shoot fantasy. "Now that I've come out, maybe I'll start getting jock straps instead of panties thrown onto the field."

Edward responded by dragging his teeth over Emmett's nipple, pulling a groan and a low chuckle. Glancing up at Emmett, Edward shot him a smirk. "That's your big thought right now?"

Emmett shrugged. "Actually, I was thinking about our spirit cheer."

"About how much the team appreciated me?"

Emmett's chest shook with laughter. He supposed he could have taken the easy route just then, lied and said, yes, that's exactly what he had in mind. Meh, Edward would've seen right through him anyway.

"If you want to know the truth, I was wondering how many lumps a lumpsucker could suck if a lumpsucker could suck lumps."

Nope, Edward wasn't the least bit surprised. He reached out and cupped the lump in question through the thick sweatpants. "I think that all depends on how much of a sucker the lumps are for being sucked."

"Aww, crap. You know I'm a major league sucker, and it's so unfair to tease me right now. I have a week's worth of messages to return today."

Edward dropped his hand with a disgruntled sigh. "Okay, business before pleasure. There's a shower with my name on it."

"Well, get to it, Dr. Dial."

"Dear lord, that was awful." Edward patted Emmett's belly as he walked past him. "Might want to check your Twitter feed."

Emmett slipped into the chair and picked up the cup of coffee, still hot enough despite the distraction. The shower came on in the background, and Emmett paused to imagine Edward stripping off his pajama bottoms, a thought that made Emmett enormously happy even if he couldn't be there to see it.

My Twitter feed, eh?

Emmett tapped the Twitter app, and his screen sprang to life with activity. Clearly, Edward had spent the last ten minutes scouring the Twitterverse and retweeting everything pertinent to Emmett's deal, adding a bigmac hashtag to organize the announcements into one long column on Emmett's feed. There must've been fifty or more just from major outlets, not counting the fan sites and individuals. Edward was not only shaking his pompoms; he was holding Emmett's hand as he walked through messages from ESPN, NBC Sports, MLB, Mariners, and Rockies SPORtalk.

Naturally, every message retweeted by Edward was a glowing variation on the theme. Emmett was sure he'd find nastiness if he peered beyond the handpicked messages, but for now, he was content to view the commentary through his partner's rose-colored glasses.

Big Mac steps out of closet, into millions

7-yr $220MM deal sealed with a kiss

Mariners sign Cy Young winner to biggest deal in history.

Emmett chuckled when he came upon the tweet from Queerty: Gay baller takes in record load. A sense of humor was definitely required if one were to survive this media blitz.

Nearly lost among the headlines was the tweet that brought the biggest smile to Emmett's face: ɸ69fanatic: ɸbigmac69 #whatiloveaboutbaseball Being able to tell the whole world I'm in love with Big Mac.

Author's Note: Awww, dang! That brings us to the end of "Benched," (did it ring any bells for you?) and the end of "Wild Pitch" proper. I really hope you all enjoyed the look back as much as I enjoyed writing it. I do have a little (big) treat in store for you on Tuesday, a massive epilogue to answer every question I could think of, and many that were posed by you guys when I asked for suggestions. If you need a reminder of the underwear ads Kellan posed for, feel free to visit my patch on FB. :)

XXX ~BOH