Post Fight
Rating: PG
Series/Sequel: Direct sequel to Maybe I Should Just
Pairing: Greg Maddux/Tom Glavine
Summary: Two days after their fight...
Author's Notes/Setting: following Maddux's walkless inning breaking (I'm very
excited about that) game. Oh yeah, and the picture at the end? Well, it
exists. I have it pinned on my wall. Very amusing...
Two days after their fight, and Maddux still couldn't get it out of his head,
even in the midst of his walkless innings streak. The game ended, the
Braves won, and still he looked for Glavine in the clubhouse, but the
other pitcher didn't seem to be around. Sighing, he pushed the thoughts
halfway out of his head and tried to continue the things he needed to do
before he could just go home and sleep.
He finally escaped to the parking lot, exhausted from both the game and the
millions of questions he was forced to field afterwards. The last thing he
expected to see was Tom's car, still there. Curious, he approached the
vehicle, surprised to see his lover in it. He opened the passenger's
side. "What are you still doing here."
"Get in. I'm giving you a ride home."
"Ya know, I have a car, right over there-"
"Greg, just get in the car."
He did, shutting the door and fastening his seat belt. "What?"
Glavine drove a few minutes in silence before replying. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"The other day. For what I said."
"It's ok, Tom."
"Look, the main reason I wanted to talk to you was to make sure you're ok."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't see you lose your temper very often. Kind of worried me."
Maddux sighed, but he was really glad of the concern. "Nah, I was just on
edge. About us...about everything. I just snapped, but besides, he was
just fucking stupid. You don't hit the fucking pitcher."
Glavine grinned at him. "I liked your slide, though."
"Yeah, well. What else could I do? Couldn't hit anybody, that'd be too risky,
with this damn streak I'm trying to maintain. I felt like taking out the
shortstop was the best way to go."
"Hey, you'll definitely get batting points for that. And like I said, I rather
enjoyed it."
"It was a shit game, though. I was just lucky to win. I'm surprised I haven't
walked anyone, the way I've pitched these last two days."
"You're looking ok. You can't defend against walks. Everything else, well,
sometimes it clicks, sometimes it doesn't."
"You know, Tommy, if I remember correctly, I was drafted the same year as you,
in the same round as you. I've been pitching just as many years as you
have. And I really don't need pitching advice. Discussion is one thing,
analysis is one thing, criticism is one thing. But regular old baseball
knowledge, I think I've got plenty of. Not that I don't appreciate it, or
anything, I just don't really think it's necessary."
Glavine couldn't help his laugh. "You're back to normal, at least. I am glad
Giles saved your ass tonight, though."
"Marc's gonna be good."
"'Marc?'"
Maddux shrugged. "He looks like a Marc."
"You are such a dork."
"Tommy...did you just use the word 'dork'?"
"My son says it. Besides, it applies." He reached Maddux's house and pulled
into the driveway, turning off the car. Then he dug into his pocket and
pulled a small, wallet-sized picture.
"Oh, God. What is that?"
"Got it out of an Ingle's ad."
Maddux buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Fuck, you did not find
that!"
"I did," Glavine grinned, studying it. "It's kind of cute. With the red hat
and head tilt and apple and everything."
"It's kind of horrendous. Please, burn it or something."
"Nope. I'm keeping it."
"Bastard-" Maddux started, but he was cut off by a kiss, and instantly forgot
everything he'd said previously. "I'm sorry for two days ago, too."
"Don't be. Just invite me in," Glavine breathlessly replied, fingers trailing
over Maddux's face and neck. "I know they flew out today."
"This afternoon," Greg murmured. "Ok, then. Come in."