Rating: PG-13
Series/Sequel: semi-sequel to Point of View, sequel to Untitled Again
Pairing: Greg Maddux/Tom Glavine
Summary: Another fluffy post-game.
Setting: Takes place after the third game of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays series.
And yes, I know that the Braves play in Cincinnati next, and they wouldn't
be driving home, they'd be getting on the bus to the airport following the
D-Rays game. I ignored this fact :-)...just like I tend to ignore the fact
that these guys a. don't belong to me, b. have never, to my knowledge,
considered this, and c. are both (happily) married with several children
each.
Greg Maddux was the last one to leave the clubhouse Tuesday night. He had to
go through the requisite arm treatments after his complete game, despite
the fact that his pitch count was well under 100 through 9 innings. By the
time he was ready, only the janitors were left. Or so he thought. He
found, upon entering the parking lot, that there were two players' cars
left. And he knew too well who the other belonged to. The owner was
already sitting in the passengers side of his. "Took you long enough."
"You're still here. Why?"
"Because," Tom Glavine replied, capturing Maddux's lips briefly with his
own, "I was waiting on you."
"Why?"
"252 wins. 12th of the season. 34th career shutout. 9 Ks. No walks. 6 hits, no
runs. A single, a run scored. ERA lowered to 2.44, best in the NL over our
esteemed colleague Mr. Burkett. Take your pick."
"We're at home, Tommy," Maddux sighed, already submitting to Glavine's
seductive techniques. Technically their arrangement was Only On The Road.
This arrangement was often broken.
"I know...but I couldn't...I mean, to sit there and watch you pitch that well,
that beautifully...I couldn't not see you afterwards. I couldn't not touch
you afterwards."
"What would you have done," Maddux asked, leaning into said touch, "if I'd
pitched poorly?"
Glavine grinned at him. "Wanted to comfort you, of course."
"Of course," Maddux replied, rolling his eyes. "How do you plan on pitching
Junior tomorrow?"
Tom loved Maddux for that, loved the fact that the pitching approach to Ken
Griffey was considered acceptable pillow talk. "You know, I don't think it
matters. The Reds are so horrible that if we lose any of these games it's
pathetic, Griffey or no."
"Kind of like losing the D-Rays series?" This question was managed in full
seriousness as Glavine's hand crept up his thigh.
"We shouldn't have lost the goddamned Rays series. But we did, and we didn't
lose any ground. So now we go pull ahead while the Phils have Montreal.
Oh, you like that, do you?"
"I've thoroughly enjoyed the 7 years you've been doing it. And you know as
well as I that anyone can beat anyone else. It's all luck and timing and
coincidence and...well, you know. Some days you get a guy behind the plate
that'll give you 3 inches off the corners, sometimes you gotta fit the
whole ball across the plate to get a strike."
"I know," Tom murmured, his mouth hot on Greg's neck. "But skill helps a lot,
too."
"Speaking of skill..." Maddux gasped, as his friend's - lover's - hands danced
on his body, deftly undoing his belt and slipping inside. He jumped at the
first touch, eliciting a chuckle from Glavine. "Shut up and do that
faster," he growled, bringing their lips together again for another kiss.
They sat in silence a few moments afterwards, Glavine's left hand gently
reaching over to lift Maddux's right one.
"Why do you do that?"
"It's your pitching hand. I just like seeing how your hand...so delicate...can
elicit such confusion with a simple twist, a change of position. And give
such pleasure afterwards."
"With a simple twist and change of position?"
"Exactly." Glavine grinned at him, then kissed the hand he was holding and
Maddux's lips. "I better go."
"Yeah. Sleep well, Tommy."
"Good night. I..."
"Me too. Get out of here."
Another lingering kiss and Glavine stepped outside, sliding easily into his
own driver's seat. Maddux licked his lips, tasting his lover again, before
turning his own ignition and starting for home.