by me
Disclaimer: I do not own these people, and this never happened. It's all a
figment of my very active imagination. Comes from not having television
as a child.
Rating: R
Pairing: Marcus Giles (2nd base, Atlanta)/Mark Prior (Pitcher, Cubbies)
Notes: Thanks to Fi for the beta even though she knows little about
baseball. This story is set just after the 2003 MLB All-Star game at
Cellular Field in Chicago. A couple days prior to that, the Braves were
playing the Cubs at Wrigley and Mark Prior ran over Marcus Giles running
from first to second (as Gilly was fielding a ground ball). Giles wound
up with a concussion, missed a week and a half, and has hit amazingly well
since. Prior bruised his should badly, went on the DL for 15 days, and
returned to form.
Mark Prior stepped up to the railing, resting his forearms and gazing out at
the field. It was a gorgeous night in his recently adopted hometown, and
the field was beautiful for baseball. He couldn�t help but smile as the
infielders joked and smiled as they warmed up.
He felt rather than heard the deep sigh beside him, and without even turning
to look he muttered, "Go sigh somewhere else, I feel bad enough already."
He could see the second baseman out of the corner of his eye, and he was
surprised to feel a pang of guilt when Marcus Giles looked genuinely
startled, glanced at him and then the ground and mumbled, "Sorry," and
started to turn.
"No! Wait," Prior said quickly, reaching out to catch Giles�
shirtsleeve. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, Marcus."
"Just Marc. Or Gilly," the infielder said evenly, leaning against the fence
next to Prior and watching the bottom of the first inning start.
After an out, Mark couldn�t take the silence. "I really am sorry. I...feel
really horrible about it."
Giles shrugged. "Thanks, but you shouldn't."
"I mean, I just couldn't help thinking. If I was like 12-0 or something and
knew I�d get the start for the N.L. and then somebody else�s stupid error
cost me the chance..."
"So don�t think so much."
"Can't help it, it's a pitcher thing."
"Look, Pri, I know. I know you�re sorry. I've been through it, I wish like
hell I could play but I can't so I'm here and I'll enjoy it and I'll move
on. Maybe I'm old enough not to dwell on it, but..."
"You aren't that much older than me!"
"Sometimes things happen that age you."
Prior was quiet a second, then started away from the rail. "I'm going to be
stupid over here by myself for a while."
"No!" This time Giles caught Prior by the wrist. "No, don't...I didn't mean
to...I mean, yes, it blows not being able to play. I'm sorry you can�t
either."
"That�s my own fault."
"Yeah," Giles agreed, giving him a small smile and turning his attention back
to the field.
Prior was quiet for a few half-innings, saying only a few words to teammate
Kerry Wood after his successful inning, while Giles talked almost nonstop
with Rafael Furcal. Eventually, Wood went to get his arm iced and Furcal
went to bat and the silence between the Cub and the Brave continued.
After scoring from Andruw Jones' double, Rafael Furcal sat down next to the
Cubs' more veteran All-Star, peering across the dugout at his best
friend. "They should just fuck already," he mumbled, and the big righty
looked at the small shortstop in surprise, then laughed.
"You know...that's an interesting solution. Might work, though..."
"Of course it would work," said Furcal indignantly.
Kerry didn�t really notice. "Pri needs to get laid," Kerry mused. "I mean,
you can't think about baseball 24 hours a day. At least. You shouldn�t."
Furcal nodded in agreement. "So do you have a plan?"
"It's your idea. Shouldn't you come up with the plan?"
"I would, but I have to go play now," Raffy replied, grinning broadly as he
retrieved his glove and waving cheerily as he trotted to his position.
"I hate position players," Wood muttered, but he made his way over to Prior
and Giles, putting an arm around his teammate�s shoulders in the
familiar way of good friends.
"Hey Pri. Hi Giles."
"Hi Ker..." Prior said, knowing something was up and looking wary because of
it. "What do you want?"
"Well, I was thinking. Concussions are sort of scary. Does your head still
hurt, Giles?"
"Um. A little. Not-"
"See? So wouldn't it be uncomfortable to fly all the way to Atlanta and then
try to drive home? I mean, something could happen."
"I think if it wasn't safe Marc's trainer would have told him-"
"I didn�t say unsafe. I said uncomfortable. I mean, Mark's got plenty of
room, don�t you, Pri?"
"Uh-"
"Great. It's settled then. Kerry ruffled Prior's hair and retreated quickly
to the other side of the dugout, leaving his victims staring dumbfounded
at each other.
A few hours later, after the game and its post-game festivities were over,
Giles stared out the window of Prior's BMW. "You could have just said no
and told him to go to hell."
"You could've too."
The silence stretched between them until Giles finally said, "So why didn't
you?"
Prior glanced at the second baseman, bit his lip and said, "I don't know."
"Me either."
They exchanged another somewhat nervous glance before Mark pulled into a
parking spot in front of his building. "Spare room's there, kitchen's
there, make yourself at home," Mark pointed out as he closed and latched
his door. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Ok," Marcus mumbled, watching his host flee.
He had managed to locate a beer and the television when Prior sat down next to
him, wearing faded jeans without a shirt, his hair damp and sticking up
from the towel drying.
Prior narrowed his eyes at the second baseman. "Should you be drinking that?
With your head?"
"One won�t kill me," Giles grumbled, glancing at the pitcher, and then
focusing on him as he noticed his shoulder. "Christ," he mumbled,
brushing his fingertips over the bruise. "You beat yourself up too,
didn't you?"
"Kind of,� Prior smiled sheepishly, noticing that the infielder�s touch
lingered on his shoulder. "Anyway...I wanted to apologize for...earlier.
The whole game I...I didn't mean to bring anything up, I should have just
been quiet."
Giles dropped his hand and sighed. "Look, it's fine. I missed the All-Star
game; it isn't the end of the world."
Prior smiled. "I'm making too big a deal out of this, aren't I?"
"You kind of are," Giles couldn't help but grin back. "But you are a pitcher,
so, you know. Over thinking and lack of common sense go hand in hand with
that."
"Eh, shut up."
"Make me."
Mark grinned. "I'll get a beer instead."
"Get me another one."
"You said one wouldn't hurt you, more might."
Marcus kicked him on the way by, deciding to be immature. "You are not my
mother."
"God forbid," muttered the pitcher as he headed back for the kitchen. He
returned a few minutes later. "You drank my last beer. Hope you like
Jack." He plunked the unopened bottle of Black Label on the coffee table
with two glasses filled with ice.
"And you seemed to think another beer would hurt me?"
"Yeah well. I�m not your mother."
"You'd make an ugly girl."
"Oh, shut up and drink your whiskey."
Giles couldn't help but smile as he picked up his glass. He hadn't had a
drink in a couple weeks, and the alcohol was relaxing him. And Prior
still wasn't wearing a shirt.
*
*
*
A few glasses of whiskey later, Giles was completely relaxed and the
conversation was easy. The nagging occasional pain in his head was gone
and they weren�t even talking about the somewhat embarrassing defeat to
the American League. Prior was, in fact, discussing a particularly
annoying trait of Kerry Wood's, namely feeling the need to meddle in most
aspects of Mark�s everyday life. This reminded Marcus of something he�d
noticed earlier, during the game. An observation which he naturally
blurted out. "He and Raffy were talking earlier."
Prior stopped talking and tilted his head. "Raffy, your shortstop?"
Giles grinned and nodded. "My shortstop."
"He was talking to Ker?"
"Yep."
"And then Kerry came and decided he would invite you to stay at my apartment."
"I guess."
"They must have had a plot."
Giles tilted his head. "A plot?"
Prior leaned forward conspiratorially, his eyes sparkling. "A plot."
"Well, what where they plotting?"
Mark had a little smile on his lips as he leaned back, keeping his eyes on
Giles. "Well, why don't you think about it a minute and see what you come
up with?"
So Giles did. He thought about seeing Furcal and Wood together, snickering
and casting glances at him and Prior. And after considering it for
several minutes, he came to a conclusion that couldn't possibly be right
because there�s no way Raffy would try to set him up with a guy, because
he'd only told Raffy that he sort of liked guys if the shortstop promised
to not set him up with any. But his mouth dropped open nonetheless and
Prior, who had been watching him the whole time, took the opportunity to
lean forward and kiss him.
Marcus was still thinking, and was caught by surprise, but he had no
inhibitions at the moment, the whiskey had seen to that, and Prior�s mouth
was very warm and his body was very solid as it pressed against his and
Giles quickly reached up and pulled the pitcher closer, running his hand
over the heavily muscled shoulders that had been occupying his attention
for a lot of the evening.
They broke, and Prior leaned close to his ear. "You sure you want to let them
be right?"
Giles shifted. He was already hard, and he could feel that Mark wasn�t
enjoying the moment any less. "Mm, yes."
"'kay." Prior kissed him again, but before it could go too far he stood up
and pulled the second baseman with him. "Bedroom, then."
Marcus followed him, but he was suddenly seeing the room spin around him and
he had to sit down heavily on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Shit,"
he mumbled.
"Hey, you ok?" Prior asked, worry infusing his tone. "Lay down," he ordered,
pushing the Brave backwards onto the pillows.
"Sorry," Marcus muttered, his eyes still shut.
Prior sprawled next to him, resting one hand on his stomach. "What�s wrong?"
"Dizzy. Just...too many things at once."
"Mm. You should get some rest."
"I'm ok." To illustrate his point, he reached up and pulled Prior down to
him, kissing him again. "Really."
"I believe you then," the pitcher whispered as he was drawn into another kiss,
deeper than the first. He ran a hand down Giles' side and across his hip,
coming to rest on his thigh for a moment before reaching over to cup the
bulge in his crotch. He stroked the infielder through his jeans, and
Marcus sighed into his mouth and spread his legs further.
Mark sat up a little to work on the buttons on both Marcus' shirt and jeans,
and when Giles sat up to help, he promptly pushed him back. "No more
dizziness. You stay still."
"Oh, come on-"
Prior held up a warning finger. "Stay still."
Marcus would've whined more, but he forgot his protests as Mark tugged his
jeans off and wrapped his hand around the second baseman's length,
stroking gently. Instead he just said Prior's name, perhaps starting in
protest, but ending in a plea.
Mark wasn't in a mood to tease, and replaced his hand with his mouth quickly,
enjoying feeling Giles squirm under his ministrations, and proceeded to
give him one of the best blowjobs Marcus had ever received (THE best came
from a member of his own clubhouse who was rather well-known for that
particular honor, and Giles had heard that it was a title that his fellow
super-competitive pitchers never cared to wrest from him, and it didn't
appear that they�d change their minds anytime soon as one was in New York
and the other in the bullpen).
Giles, mindful of the be still order, didn't move too much, mostly
clutching the sheets in his fingers and letting the pitcher control the
pace, because everyone knew they were all control freaks anyway. However,
holding back seemed to make his orgasm that much better, and he was
boneless and exhausted when Prior slid up his body to kiss him hard.
Giles wrapped an arm around his neck and slid the other hand in the loose
jeans � and no underwear, he noticed - the pitcher was still wearing,
stroking him lazily. "Was that an apology?" he murmured.
Mark smiled sheepishly. "Kind of. I really am-"
"Jesus, Pri, this would be a good time to stop apologizing."
"I know. Sorry."
"Mm. Tell me what you want." Giles had unbuttoned the jeans and was working
them down.
"I want...well, I want to fuck you, but I don�t think I�d last ten seconds."
His breath was coming in shorter and shorter gasps.
"Maybe next time," Giles grinned, kissing him soundly before pushing him onto
his back and crouching between his legs. He closed his lips over Mark's
erection, swirling his tongue over the tip to taste the pre-cum. Without
any more warning, he took the pitcher deep, swallowing.
It did take longer than 10 seconds, but not too much longer. Giles settled
himself against Mark's side afterwards, both men finding baseball, alcohol
and sex to be a powerful sleep aid. Less than a minute after Prior
murmured a thank you and flipped off the light, both were out.
*
*
*
Marcus Giles awoke feeling slightly awkward. He'd had sex with guys before,
but he hadn't actually slept with one, and he wasn't sure how to handle
the situation. Luckily for him, he didn't really have to. Prior rolled
over and settled and arm over his midsection, nuzzling against his
neck. "What time's your flight?"
"Eleven," Giles said, relaxing and deciding he liked waking up this way.
"Probably need to leave around nine," Mark told him, eyeing the clock on the
bedside table that read 7:04.
"I can take a cab."
"Nah. I don't mind. What do you want to do in the meantime?�
�Well,� Giles answered, �I think it could be next time.�
Mark raised his head to look at him, his eyes darkened. �Yeah?�
Marcus pulled his head down for a kiss. �Please.�
Two hours later, they were headed for Chicago's O'Hare Airport. "Thanks for
not telling Ker to go to hell," Prior told him as they exited for the
airport, after a trip filled mostly with silence.
"Eh, he�s bigger than me anyway."
Mark smiled slightly as he stopped at curbside check-in. "Have a
good...season. Unless I...see you again?" It was almost a question.
Prior caught a quick smile and a wink from the second baseman that was almost
an answer as he pulled away. After a moment's deliberation on the
freeway, he took an exit that wasn't his own, heading for Kerry Wood's
apartment to wake him up. Once that was done (and it would be an ordeal),
Mark figured he'd either kick his ass for meddling or buy him breakfast
for meddling. Whichever it ended up being, Mark Prior smiled the whole
way there.
Fin.