AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Happy New Year! Some major thank yous going out to my loyal readers and reviewers! I am very grateful for you! And if you're reading but haven't reviewed in a while, the new year is a great time to get back in the habit of letting me know what you think! ;)

Chapter 36: Take Me Out to the Ball Game

SEBASTIAN

"Wow," Sebastian said, his eyebrows raised as he, Griff, and Artie arrived in their seats at the top of Field Box 165 at Progressive Field– the home of the Cleveland Indians, and the team that Art Abrams worked for. "You can see, like, everything from up here."

"There's nothing like the view from the cheap seats," Artie sang out, referencing one of the old country songs that Griffin had played on their drive the day before as he locked his wheels in place in the space that was designated for wheelchairs.

Sebastian knew that Artie had just been joking around, but his voice still sounded pretty good anyway. He'd never admit it, but Sebastian was a little jealous of Artie's ability to sing any genre– from rap to soul to pop to country– with ease. To some people– Artie included– that kind of thing came naturally. Sebastian wasn't so lucky.

"I happen to like this view," Griffin said, settling down in the folding chair on one side of Artie. The skeptical expression on Artie's face said that he didn't believe Griffin for even a second. "I do!" Griffin maintained, catching Artie's disbelieving glance. "Easy access to the bathrooms."

"Are you sure you don't mean easy access to the bar?" Artie teased, raising a singular eyebrow and nodding to the two beers in clear plastic cups that Griffin was currently double-fisting. Being that he was of the legal drinking age and not driving, Griffin was indulging himself.

They were sitting in the accessible seats, of course, and Sebastian had heard enough stories from Griff and Artie's childhood to know that Artie wasn't very fond of this spot. Not after spending years sitting right behind the team dugout, anyway. Sure, the seats were pretty high up, but they also gave spectators an impressive view of all of the action happening below. Seb couldn't help but be enchanted by his surroundings.

Sebastian had also been double-fisting drinks– sodas in souvenir cups for himself and Artie– while Artie carried their food on his lap. Once settled opposite Griffin on Artie's other side, Seb passed Artie his drink, accepting the cheese-covered nachos he'd ordered (that were conveniently piled into a replica baseball helmet with the Indians' logo on it– very clever, Sebastian decided) in return.

"Thanks," Artie told him, gratefully making the exchange. In doing so, he caught Sebastian's eye, holding his gaze for a bit longer than what was comfortable. Artie tilted his head to the side. "You good?"

For the last twenty-four hours, Sebastian had felt Artie keeping a close eye on him. During last night's barbecue dinner, the walk they'd gone on with Art and Buck afterward as the sun was going down, and earlier that day when they toured the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Sebastian had sensed Artie's focus on him, no matter how little he wanted it.

Seb knew that he was turning out to be much more reserved this weekend, in the presence of Artie's father, than he typically was. He was the guest on this particular trip, and he didn't want to overstep. Artie admires and adores his father more than anything, Sebastian knew, and he also knew that their time spent together this summer had been few and far between for an abundance of different reasons. Sebastian also felt– from personal experience– that he would give anything for time back like this with his mom. He wouldn't have wanted anything– or anyone– to be in the way.

So, he tried to hang back and let the Abrams boys have their time together without having to think much about him. He was worried that his being there for the weekend would somehow disturb their cherished father-son dynamic. He intended to make himself as small and as scarce as possible. The less his presence was noticed, he figured, the better.

However, Artie and Griffin didn't seem to feel the same way. They were always going out of their way to include him in conversations and show him that he was welcome. In trying to give Artie and Griffin space to not feel smothered, however, Sebastian had unintentionally given off the impression that something was wrong, or that he wasn't having a good time on this trip.

"I'm great," Sebastian answered, not wanting Artie and Griffin to think he wasn't enjoying himself. "Never better. Remind me later to thank your dad again for the tickets. This is awesome."

"No need," Griff said, his mouth full of the bite he'd already taken of his hot dog that was smothered in ketchup and mustard. "The coaching staff always gets free tickets, and Dad always reserves three."

Sebastian guessed that the Abrams boys probably– maybe without even realizing it– took experiences like this for granted. They'd grown up going to ball games regularly, after all. If their roles had been reversed, Sebastian probably would have felt the same way. But, nope. This was his first ever professional baseball game (not that his step-brothers needed to know that, though), and he was determined to take it all in.

Baseball, Sebastian knew, had a reputation for being boring. It didn't move at a fast pace like basketball or hockey, and didn't have one big game to conclude the season, watched by millions of people all over the world as an excuse to throw a big party like football. Despite all of that, Sebastian loved it. Sitting in the grandstand with his brothers, eating ballpark food, booing at strikeouts, and cheering for home runs… he felt like a little kid again.

The coolest part of the day, though, happened not during the game, but after.

"The only thing that outweighs wheelchair perks are coach's kid perks," Artie quipped as Sebastian and Griffin worked together to carefully carry him down the four steps that led into the dugout from the field. This was where they were planning to meet up with Art after the game, and Sebastian could hardly believe it.

After setting Artie's chair safely back on the ground, Sebastian walked around, taking in the sights of this exclusive hangout spot that he could hardly believe he had access to. There were peanut shells and gum wrappers still littering the floor, coupled with equipment and water bottles that had yet to be put away. It was everything Sebastian had expected it to be, and he couldn't believe he was really down here, where the professional players had been just an hour before.

"Alright, this is seriously the most insane thing I've ever experienced," Sebastian said, pacing in disbelief. He felt like the real deal. "Do you realize how cool this is?! How cool your dad is? 'Cause I don't think you do."

Artie smirked before nodding, coasting to a stop right in front of where Sebastian was sitting on the bench that ran along the wall, starry-eyed as he glanced out at the perfectly manicured field. "I guess that feeling came more naturally to me when I was younger than it does now, but yeah. It's pretty awesome."

"Griff must have inherited that coolness gene from him before it skipped right over you, huh?" Sebastian told him, slugging Artie on the shoulder good-naturedly. Even when things were going well between the two of them, Seb couldn't resist being at least a little bit mean to Artie– that was just how their dynamic worked.

"Ooh, burnnn," Griffin commented, causing Artie to scowl at both of them.

However, the expression on his face was fixed awfully fast once Art appeared in the dugout from the clubhouse, accompanied by the team's manager– a bigger white guy that Sebastian recognized from TV. Both Artie and Griffin's shoulders had rolled back so that they were carrying themselves a little bit straighter when the other guy entered the space. Even Sebastian stood up from where he'd been chilling on the bench, wiping the remnants of dirt and peanut crumbs off of his shorts nervously.

"Hell of a game, Dad," Griffin greeted him, going in for a hug.

"Tough loss, but we'll get them next time," Art replied with a shrug.

"I mean, statistics-wise, it wasn't all that bad," Artie pointed out, always prepared with the facts. "Almost everyone got on base at least once, and the bullpen looked great."

Art smiled appreciatively down at Artie and his post-game analysis. "Well, the win just wasn't meant to be, I guess."

Sebastian observed the boys and their dad. The way that both Griffin and Artie idolized their father was apparent, and– despite having the coolest job in the world and being surrounded by famous athletes all day long– Art was equally enamored with the two of them. He acted like his kids were the only ones in the room whenever they got the chance to be together.

On the contrary, Sebastian and Harrison's relationship had its share of ups and downs over the years. Back in Paris, when Sebastian was young, his father had been a stay-at-home dad. They did everything together back then, and those were some of Sebastian's fondest memories. After his mother died, however, the pressure of supporting his growing son weighed heavily on his heartbroken, grieving father. He immersed himself in his work and left little time for anything else, including Sebastian. They'd drifted apart after that, and even though their relationship had been patched up and vastly improved upon in recent years, Sebastian still had such an immense respect for Art Abrams. He, too, was a single father who had a career that was important to him, and despite living across the state from his kids, he always made time to nurture their relationship.

"The bats were hot today, that's for sure," the man in the Cleveland Indians jersey and hat noted. "Your old man does a great job whipping these players into shape."

"Thanks for saying that," Art replied, turning pink at the compliments, much like Artie tended to do. "These are my boys, Griffin and Artie."

"Nice to see you both," the team's coach said. "Your dad is always talking about you and your sister." Turning to Griff, he said, "I heard you were quite the athlete in high school. Not anymore?"

Now it was Griffin's turn to be bashful. "Yeah, I played football and basketball for a few years. Not anymore, though. I had an offer to play football in college, but I turned it down." He shrugged as if that wasn't a huge deal to the majority of the sports world. "I'm well into my retirement now."

"And Artie will be applying to film schools this fall," Art added, not going to allow one son to be outshined by another. "He just wrapped up the filming for his first short film."

Sebastian thought that was nice of him to add. It was clear that Art was very proud of all of his kids for all of their different accomplishments. Even though Artie didn't play sports anymore, he thrived in other ways, and Art was quick to show that off and brag about it.

As Art had a hand resting on the shoulder of each of his boys, Sebastian hung back. He was unsure of where he fits into this particular interaction. Should he go over there? Maybe he should. He was aware of how awkward he must look right now– still within earshot, but also not having introduced himself, nor having contributed anything to this conversation.

As if his mind had been read, Artie looked over his shoulder and met Sebastian's eyes. Nodding with his head, he beckoned for Seb to come join them.

"Oh, and this is Sebastian! My ex-wife's step-son," Art said once Seb had stepped forward. "From what I hear, he's an ace on the lacrosse field."

The team manager paused and appeared to replay that first sentence back in his head a few times to ensure that he'd heard it correctly before smiling and sticking out a hand for Sebastian to shake.

Sebastian was positive that the statement was not heard or said all that often. Maybe in any other blended family, that sentence would be unheard of. But not theirs. And that was something that Sebastian was proud to be a part of.

…

"I'm exhausted," Griffin said, flopping on his back onto the full-sized bed in the bedroom that the three boys were sharing. "Sitting out in the sun all day really wore me out."

"Are you sure it was the sun's fault?" Artie asked, looking at his older brother knowingly. "Not the– oh, I don't know– ten beers?"

Artie was freshly showered and changed into his pajamas as he entered the room from the hallway. He'd just finished up after being the last of the three boys to monopolize the shower and bathroom.

By now– after spending the last eight months fighting over the communal space with Ella and Griffin– Sebastian was used to sharing a bathroom, and he had figured out that calling first dibs on the space was the way to go. Artie, he knew, preferred to let everyone else shower and brush their teeth (and– in Sebastian's case– complete a lengthy skincare routine) before taking his turn in the bathroom. He didn't want to worry about anyone waiting on him, since everything tended to take him longer than it took everyone else. This was fine with Sebastian because he didn't like waiting. He'd take the first shower any day, thank you very much.

Griffin propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at Artie. "First of all, I didn't have ten," he argued. "And second of all, how is it my fault that the game went into extra innings?"

"Extra innings doesn't mean extra alcohol."

"I'm with you, Griff," Sebastian chimed in from his perch on the top bunk, earning him his own glare from Artie. "I think a drink per inning is more than acceptable."

"Thank you!"

"What?" Artie exclaimed, horrified. "No! Not unless you want to be dehydrated. Or, like, get alcohol poisoning."

"I was staying hydrated," Griffin reminded him. "I got up to pee, like, four times because I drank all of those waters remember? Because I was sweating so much. Because of the sun. So, ha."

"Well, we can agree to disagree," Artie relented, clearly not wanting to argue about this subject anymore. "But don't come to me begging for some 'hair of the dog' in the morning when you have a hangover and can't get out of bed."

With that, Sebastian watched as Artie retrieved his duffel bag and began to neatly fold the clothes he'd worn that day before tucking them inside.

All of their bags were being kept in a pile on the floor of the room's small closet– there just wasn't room for them anywhere else. Well, not where they wouldn't inevitably wind up in Artie's path, anyway. The bedroom that they were sharing was cramped enough as it was. On top of the three young adults currently inhabiting it, the room consisted of a dresser with a TV on top, a set of bunk beds, and a full-sized bed– the one that Griffin was currently lying on, however, Artie got to claim it at night, since it was equipped with the expensive mattress that was supposed to prevent him from getting pressure sores. It was a tight squeeze, and Artie needed every extra inch of space he could get when it came to comfortably moving around the room.

From above, Sebastian was able to see things that he might not have otherwise. For example, he noticed the way that Artie was very intentional and careful about the way he chose to maneuver around the space. At home, everything was spread out enough that he never had to worry about things like that, so Seb had never properly recognized this struggle until now.

First, there was the yelp he'd heard earlier coming from down the hall. Artie had gone to take his turn in the bathroom, and– forgetting that his dad's house didn't have all of the same modifications here and there to make his daily life just a little bit easier– he'd accidentally slammed his knuckles into the narrow doorway.

Then came the persistent wrinkle lines that had appeared between Artie's eyebrows at some point– a tell-tale sign that he was overanalyzing every move he made. Internally, he was constantly weighing the pros and cons of any of the situations he could potentially face where these accessibility issues were concerned. He was an overthinker, Sebastian knew, and, with that, came a state of perpetual anxiety. Artie hardly ever settled down.

Now, as Artie had finished re-packing his weekend bag, he carefully executed a meticulous three-point turn in his chair– affording him the ability of having just enough space to turn around between the bed and the closet– before finally returning his bag to the pile.

"Alright, move please," Artie said after that, motioning to Griffin that he needed to give up the bed. "Back to the bottom bunk you go."

"But it's so comfy," Griffin protested, doing the exact opposite of what Artie was asking of him and spreading his limbs out like a starfish, preventing Artie from having any room to transfer.

Artie rolled his eyes, not in the mood for an argument. "Well, if you're not gonna get up, then at least make yourself useful and stretch me out?"

"Deal," Griff gave in, scooting over on the mattress so that he would be able to adequately kneel over his brother and help him out.

Artie set his brakes and moved from one surface to the other, making the movement seem swift and easy, which Sebastian was sure it was not. As Artie used his arms to situate himself in the center of the bed and laid back on the pillows, Griffin took charge of Artie's left leg, lifting it in the air and gently stretching his muscles so that his joints didn't tighten up.

"Extra innings and the loss aside, today's game was a pretty good one," Griffin stated, rotating Artie's hip as Sebastian tried not to stare. Artie's eyes were closed, so he supposed it didn't really matter if he watched or not, but Sebastian had gathered by now that Artie was a pretty private person. He didn't want to overstep.

"It was okay," Artie replied. "I mean, it was better than the one we went to last summer where it rained the whole time and we had to go buy disposable ponchos for twenty dollars at the team store. It falls short of the post-season run in '07, though."

"Well, I thought it was fun," Sebastian told them. "Even though they lost. Thanks again for taking me, I…" Sebastian heard his voice trail off. He swore he wasn't going to confess this next part, but now it was already halfway out of his mouth. He couldn't stop now! "Um… I'd never been to a game like that before. Well, not a professional one, anyway. I had a great time. Your dad is awesome."

"Wait, seriously?" Griffin stared back at him in shock, while Artie still had his eyes closed– probably concentrating on giving his body a moment to reset after being in a seated position for the majority of the day. "You'd never been to one?"

Sebastian shook his head. "No. My dad's more of a golf guy, I guess." He shrugged. "We used to make trips down to Georgia for the Masters every year, and head to California in the summer to play on the course at Pebble Beach, but he never took me to a ball game."

"Well, that sure was a memorable first time in the ballpark, then," Griffin joked. "Most fans are psyched if they get to take a picture with the mascot at their first game. It's not all that often you get to say you got to hang in the dugout."

"Truth," Artie agreed just as Buck, back from his evening walk around the neighborhood, came bounding through the door and jumped onto the bed. The jostling of the mattress caused Artie's eyes to snap open with surprise before a grin spread across his face as he welcomed the dog into his sacred personal space.

"You know, Art, I wouldn't have picked you for such a dog person," Sebastian said, observing how the dog– who looked too big to be a puppy, but sure acted enough like one– panted with his tongue out before giving Artie a sloppy kiss on the face and nuzzling close to his side. The labrador was nearly Artie's size, and Sebastian had been surprised when he'd woken up that morning to find them in nearly this same position. Just because Artie's mattress was big enough for two bodies didn't mean that Sebastian had ever expected Artie to be up for sharing the bed with anyone. Especially not with an animal.

"Yeah, well, I probably would have thought the same thing," Artie acknowledged with a grin. "But I like this dog."

"And he likes you, too," Griffin confirmed. "Buck couldn't give two craps about me or Ella, but, man, does he love Artie."

At that, Buck rolled onto his back, exposing his underside to the ceiling and begging the boys for belly rubs, which made them all laugh. Even Sebastian– who still considered himself to be more fond of cats than dogs– thought it was kind of adorable.

"Geez, speaking of the sun getting the best of us today," Griffin said just then, recalling the conversation they'd been having before and regaining the attention of the other two. "Looks like someone missed a spot with their sunblock."

He pointed to where Artie's pajama pants had ridden up, putting the skin on the top of his knees on full display. Sebastian leaned over the guardrail of the bunk bed to get a better view. Artie was typically pretty pale year-round, which made the bright pink shade of his kneecaps extra noticeable.

"Ouch," Sebastian said with a quick intake of breath. Griffin was right– the sun had taken its toll on the exposed areas of Artie's legs. It hadn't started to blister or anything– which was good since Sebastian recalled that Artie had pretty sensitive skin– but it still looked painful.

"It's fine," Artie insisted, returning his attention to rubbing Buck's belly and seeming pretty unbothered about the whole thing.

"It's only fine because you don't feel it," Sebastian remarked unhelpfully. Unable to put a halt to his words, he went on to add: "I guess you're kind of lucky, huh? That you didn't know until Griff said something? Nothing's worse than a warm shower when you have a sunburn."

"How about when it starts to itch?" Griffin said.

"You're right," Seb agreed. "That's much worse."

"Art, do you want me to go grab you some aloe?" Griff offered, setting Artie's leg back down on the comforter and preparing to climb off of the bed. "I think Dad has some of that after-sun lotion stuff under the sink in the bathroom. The kind that gives you a nice cooling sensation."

"No, it's okay. I'm good."

"Are you sure? It may just help to, you know, even out your temperature," Griffin went on. "Your legs are kind of warm right now because of it, when usually they're not all that warm because your circulation is–"

"Griff, I'm fine," Artie repeated, rolling his eyes. "It won't itch anyway. Like Seb said, I-I didn't even realize I'd gotten burned until you said anything. I'll be okay. Just forget about it, alright?"

It wasn't an outburst exactly, but Artie's clear annoyance and stern tone on the subject had gotten his point across. He didn't want such a spectacle to be made over something as silly and as common as a sunburn, and that was that. Griffin shrugged and finished stretching Artie's legs, as Sebastian– who'd been sitting cross-legged on the top bunk– took that moment to climb under the covers.

As Sebastian tossed and turned in bed that night, his mind kept returning to the weekend they'd had so far. The fact that his step-brothers had even thought to invite him on this trip in the first place touched him beyond explanation (though he tried his best not to show it), and everything else– the barbecue dinner, the baseball game– was just icing on the cake. He thought about the way that Artie was constantly checking in on him, making sure that he was doing okay and having a good time, and how Griffin was constantly doing the same for Artie, even if the other guy was too stubborn and prideful to appreciate it.

Sebastian had long admired Griffin and Artie's relationship, and for the last several months, Seb had wondered if his step-brothers felt the same way about him, too, as they felt about each other. Would they keep his best interests close to their hearts and want what was best for him, even when he may not want it for himself? If the events of this weekend were any indication, Sebastian guessed that maybe they would.

Seb rolled over again, pulling up the blanket to hide the smirk on his face, even though they'd already turned off the lights and the room was dark. Just the prospect of it all made him giddy all over again.

The universe, Sebastian was learning, put certain people in your life on purpose. He was glad that whoever was in charge had thought to put Griffin and Artie in his.