by me
Rating: R
Notes: I said I wasn't writing anymore. Clearly, I was lying. Posted this to
my LJ and figured I may as well post it here too.
Setting: A little ways into the season. This is before Tommy started
struggling with injuries and the general bad-ness of his team and before
Maddy started winning. Obviously. I mean, the setting is the Mets first
series in Atlanta.
Glav's line for the game: 3.1 IP 8 H 6 R 6 ER 2 HR 2 BB 0 K
I will be nothing without you.
The words rang in Tom Glavine�s head. He�d figured they were bullshit at
first. I mean, this was Greg Maddux. Nothing phased him. He was the
best pitcher around, the smartest, the craftiest. How could something as
stupid as the end of a relationship that shouldn�t have started anyway
affect his pitching? It couldn�t.
But after the first start, the first bad start, Tom Glavine started to wonder.
After they both got rocked on Opening Day he almost called. But he didn�t,
and he wondered if Greg came as close as he did...and he had hit memory 2
twice without sending. But then he decided that was a bad idea. And he
realized he should delete Greg�s cell number from his phone.
Now it was much further into the season and Tom was 5-3 and pitching well.
Greg was 3-5 and not. And he still hadn�t managed to delete memory 2.
And now they were playing each other. Not pitching against each other, Tom was
pretty sure that would strain his composure more than he could handle. For
now�it was bad enough that he had to drive the familiar pattern from his
home to Turner Field without Greg beside him. It was shorter than he
remembered, the drive. Maybe that was because of the nerves gnawing away
at his stomach, though. And now the walk from the parking lot to the
clubhouse. He had visualized it, in his mind. He had visualized it all,
standing on the rubber in a different uniform, facing his friends and
teammates, but that was happening tomorrow. The visualization he�d never
managed to finish was the one he was acting out now. He could never get to
the visitor�s clubhouse in his mind.
But here in reality, step by step, he was growing closer. Passing the doors
he�d been going through for 6 years, since Turner Field opened in �97, he
approached the more unfamiliar ones. The room was empty, and he was
grateful, as he sat down at his locker. Looking around the room whose
layout was so similar to the one just down the hall, he had to close his
eyes and sigh. It couldn�t be regret. He�d spent too much time on this
decision to regret it. No, just�nostalgia, maybe. Longing for familiarity.
"You�re here early."
His eyes snapped open. He knew he�d have to run into Greg, it was inevitable.
But now was too early, he wasn�t ready yet. He hadn�t prepared, didn�t
know what he would say or do. But Greg did, he always did, and he wandered
into the room, sitting next to Glavine, but not too close. "I...yeah."
"How�s your family?"
"Good...they�re good." This small talk was weird, they�d never talked like
this. Maybe Greg did feel the discomfort he wasn�t showing.
"You�re pitching well," Maddux said softly. "I�m glad."
"Yeah, I...it�s tough. Tougher than I thought it would be."
"Yeah," Maddux sighed. "Anyway, I know it�s weird being back here. It�s still
weird for me in Chicago and it�s been 10 years." He paused, and Glavine
didn�t say anything. "It�s been weird here too, Tommy. For all of us."
"For you?"
"Especially for me."
The vulnerability in his voice led Glavine to speak when he wouldn�t have
otherwise. "I miss you."
"Hampton-Ortiz doesn�t have quite the same ring as Maddux-Glavine."
"I can pitch without you-"
"Clearly."
"But that wasn�t what I meant and you know it."
"You�re strained enough. There�s no need for me to complicate things."
"You were never a complication." Tom wasn�t sure why he was allowing this
conversation to happen. It was over, they�d made that decision in
December. It was stupid to keep dwelling on the past. Especially when they
could hardly hold eye contact. Voices in the hall made them both look up
and gave Glavine the opportunity to say, "You better go."
"Yeah. I�ll see you later."
"Probably not," Glavine said firmly, and couldn�t explain why it hurt so much
to see Maddux�s shoulders slump as he turned out of the visitor�s room.
*
*
*
Somehow, Glavine wasn�t surprised to see him the next day. "I knew you�d be
here," Maddux said, to explain why he was currently sitting next to his
former teammate in the hall sometime about the fourth inning of the second
game of the series.
"Aren�t you charting?"
"Smoltzy can handle it."
"Maddy...you don�t have to be here."
Maddux just stretched his arm across the lefty�s shoulders. "They hit you
pretty well."
"I wasn�t sharp."
"Ah, you weren�t bad. They just...know you. How many times have you told
Andruw how�d you pitch him?"
"Oh, come on. Six runs in 3 innings?"
"And you seemed nervous."
"I was."
"It won�t be that bad again. Next time you�re here it won�t be as bad."
"I know, Greg. I�m ok." But he didn�t move away from Maddux�s touch, because
despite their clashing uniforms, it reminded him of last season and the 9
before that.
They sat there in silence for a few moments before Maddux spoke, and it wasn�t
about the game. "I miss you too, you know. I�m not...not as focused."
"You can�t blame me for your losing record."
"Christ Tommy. Do I ever blame anyone but myself for anything?"
"No."
"Then who do you think I�m blaming for my losing record?"
"I�m sorry."
"Don�t be."
Neither of them could explain the next few minutes. Maybe it really was
inevitable regardless of what they had consciously decided. It was
magnetic attraction, almost. Maybe it was just the first time they�d held
eye contact longer than a couple seconds. Whatever caused it didn�t
matter, though, because when their lips touched the kiss was, as was their
first one so many years ago, right. And it quickly led to a deeper, more
urgent kiss that broke when Glavine dropped his head to Maddux�s shoulder
and mumbled "Shit."
Greg�s lips brushed Tom�s ear as he whispered, "Stay with me tonight."
"I can�t."
"Please, Tommy. I...I need you. Just tonight."
"Why can�t I tell you no?"
Greg backed away a little, pushing himself to his feet. "You can."
"But you want me to stay."
Maddux swallowed, his eyes focusing on the far wall. "I need you to stay. I
need...closure."
And Glavine nodded.
The game continued and the Braves won handily, seemingly having no trouble
handing their former ace a loss.
*
*
*
"Shit, Tommy," Maddux breathed, as the lefty�s tongue danced across his skin.
He rubbed his hand across Glavine�s neck, back, shoulder and pulled him up
for a kiss. Both of their heart rates were returning to normal, breathing
evening out. It had been good sex, even with the knowledge of this being
it hanging over their heads. And they both knew it, there was no
need to say it. But still Tom did.
"This can�t happen again, Greg." The words were mumbled into his shoulder, and
Maddux felt calm despite hating it was true.
"I know." He felt focused again. Like he had found something to center him. He
was finding the finality surrounding this event to be comforting. "I know."
Glavine hadn�t slept well in weeks, and his eyelids were growing heavy
now. "I..." he started, wondering if maybe he shouldn�t just leave.
"Shh," was the quick reply, accompanied by a stroke of a hand down his
spine. "Sleep, it�s ok."
"Ok," Glavine sighed, not finding the energy to argue.
He slept. Greg Maddux didn�t.
Fin.