By me
Rating: R...lotsa language and some sex
Series: 3/4
Pairings: Brad Radke/Corey Koskie, Jarrod Washburn/David Eckstein, JT Snow/Damon Minor, Scott Rolen/Matt Morris
Summary: The LCS are over. Two moved on, two went home.
Notes: Sorry this took so fucking long...and the CArdinals definitely got more than their alloted space here...sorry.
Minnesota
And just like that, the season was over. They had thought they were going to keep it going. A three-run rally off the Angels stingy bullpen should�ve been enough to get them a ticket back to the Metrodome.
But no. The most bizarre inning in recent history gave the Angels an 8 run lead and the victory. And the Angels were going to the World Series. Not the Twins, not the Cinderella team of the playoffs. Though they were all Cinderella teams, somehow, all four of them.
Corey was quiet on the plane, but he was always quiet. Brad didn�t think much of it, even as Koskie didn�t talk to him the whole flight home. They didn�t really need to talk. They both knew they hadn�t done what they hoped to do. What they�d expected to do.
What they were capable of doing.
Finally, thankfully, the flight ended and the team filed quietly off the plane, meeting wives and girlfriends or whoever to go home. Corey and Brad walked away with just a few half-smiles and muttered words to teammates. They�d see them tomorrow anyway, in a solemn Minnesota locker room.
They reached home and Koskie tossed his bag in the corner and sighed, heading for the back of the house. Brad couldn�t take it anymore. �Core?� he asked, somewhat timidly. �You ok?�
Koskie stopped and turned, taking a step back towards the pitcher before pulling him closer. �Yeah...yeah. We did ok, huh?�
Relieved, Brad let out his breath in a huff and rested his forehead on the third baseman�s shoulder. �Yeah. Ok.�
�I�m sorry I wasn�t better.�
�It was meant to be them. You know how those things are.�
�Yeah.�
They stood there for a few minutes, just together, until Radke broke the silence. �Hey, Core...it�s hockey season.�
It brought an unexpected chuckle from the infielder, and he shifted and caught Brad�s lips with his own. �You gonna stick around here and watch it with me?�
�What, watch the whole season?�
Corey raised his eyebrows. �Maybe.�
Radke grinned and kissed him again. �Sure.�
Anaheim
Jarrod Washburn didn�t want to his open his eyes. If he did, he was afraid that this would all be a dream. Not David, sprawled out across the bed to his right. That was an insecurity Jarrod had gotten over already. He knew Eckstein wasn�t going anywhere.
But he was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around the fact that they were the American League Champions. The LCS had flown by, and Jarrod had never had a doubt they�d take it all. It was just hard to believe they, the Anaheim Angels, wild card of the AL, were going to the World Series.
He opened his eyes a little, taking in the early morning light. The covers were mostly not on the bed anymore, and he retrieved them, pulling them over himself and David, before snuggling closer to the shortstop. David didn�t wake, just instinctively moved towards the heat of Jarrod�s body before settling again. Seeing no reason to disturb David or himself this early, Washburn drifted into sleep again.
He woke this time when Adam Kennedy pounded on his door. He and Benji had an unfortunate habit of staying over. �What?� He yelled, and David growled at him and pulled a pillow over his head.
Adam pushed the door open. �Get up or something. We�re bored.�
�So...go have sex or something. Geez, that�s what Benji�s here for, isn�t it?�
�We already did,� Adam whined.
David sat up. �Are you four years old?�
The other infielder rolled his eyes. �Just hurry up, �kay?�
Sighing, David leaned against Jarrod, who was watching him with amusement. �What, still tired?�
�Nah, not really. I want to, like, go watch Sportscenter all day and hear them talk about us playing in the World Series.�
Jarrod grinned. �We�re playing in the World Series.�
The force of David�s kiss pressed him back into the headboard.
And Washburn decided his houseguests could entertain themselves a bit longer.
San Francisco
Damon Minor didn�t like not playing. He didn�t enjoy watching and knowing he had no chance of entering the game. But at moments like these, it didn�t matter so much that he wasn�t contributing on the field. It was still his team, his teammates, receiving the trophy as the National League Champions.
It was also JT.
And the smile on his face made Damon forget anything he was disappointed about. The locker room was crazy, better than after the division series. So many people everywhere that Damon could barely turn around without being hugged by someone. He estimated that half of those people didn�t know who he was.
But finally, he found himself in JT�s arms, and he held on a little longer. JT pulled back and grinned at him, and Damon had to generate a great deal of self control to not kiss him in the middle of all the reporters.
But Snow knew him, and dragged him into the back and pressed him up against the wall and kissed him deeply. Minor smiled at him when they broke, blinking lazily. �I love you,� he said.
�Love you too. And I...I can�t believe it. Jesus fucking Christ we�re going to the World Series!�
JT�s smile was infective and Minor�s stayed in place even as he said, �Yeah, you are.�
�Ah...fuck. I�m sorry, Dame, I...you know you deserve to be there.�
�No. I don�t. If I deserved it, I would. You don�t have to apologize to me, babe.�
�I shouldn�t go on about playing there since you aren�t.�
�No. You should go on about playing there. Because you are and that�s fucking amazing, ok?�
JT smiled, meeting Damon�s eyes. �Still yours...it�s still yours when we win.�
��Course. My team, isn�t it? But nah...I just want my favorite first baseman to win.�
JT laughed. �Your favorite first baseman? That�s so cheesy.�
Minor nodded. �I know.� He kissed Snow again.
St. Louis
Rolen opened the door to Morris� house open gingerly, slipping the key back into his picket. The house was dark and silent, and Scott climbed the stairs carefully, heading towards Matt�s bedroom.
The pitcher was still wearing the clothes he�d traveled in, and he was standing in the window, staring blankly out. �Matty?� Scott said softly.
He whirled, and Scott could see the bottle of Black Label clutched in his hand. �What�re you doin� here?�
�I...I wanted to talk to you. You ran off after we landed and you sat with Andy on the plane...�
�I don�t want to talk, Scott. So just go the fuck away.�
Rolen thought about it. Andy had threatened him with loss of the other arm if he allowed Matt to do anything stupid, and Rolen was the one most likely to be listened to by the pitcher. �No,� he finally decided.
Rolen took a step forward, reaching out to cup a hand behind Matt�s neck, rubbing gently. �Please, Matt. You did your best, that�s all anyone can ask for.�
Matt shoved him away roughly and took another swig from the bottle. �My best wasn�t enough, then, was it. And I told you, fuck off.�
�No,� Scott said again, crossing his arms. �I will not. Give me the bottle and...just...�
�I told you! Fuck off! I don�t need anyone around right now.�
�Oh yes. Yes you do.�
�No,� he protested, a bit of alcohol seeping into his voice. �I have Darryl anyway.�
�No! He�s dead, Matt! He can�t stop you from getting drunk and hurting yourself, he can�t talk you through a tough loss, and he can�t love you! He�s dead, Matt...�
Scott knew it had to be coming, but he was still somewhat unprepared when Morris grabbed his collar. �Don�t say that...don�t fucking say that.�
�Why? It�s true, isn�t it?�
Abruptly, Matt slammed him against the wall, digging an elbow into his left shoulder, perhaps without thinking.
White-hot pain originated in Scott�s shoulder and shot up and down his arm and through his chest. The third baseman couldn�t muffle his cry of pain, and his knees buckled causing him to slide from Matt�s grasp, clutching his already-injured shoulder, his breath coming in short gasps.
Realizing through his anger what he�d done, Morris backed away, blinking back tears as he watched Scott struggle with the pain.
Rolen let go of his shoulder long enough to reach in the pitcher�s direction. �No, Matt, please...�
Strangling the sob rising in his throat, Matt moved forward again, dropping to his knees, accepting Rolen�s one armed embrace.
�I�m sorry...I�m so sorry, Scotty...� He could feel Rolen�s breathing, both in the hot gasps against his neck and in the shudders of the infielder�s body in his arms. Matt ignored the tears in his eyes, rubbing his hand in soothing circles on Scott�s back, his broken apologies almost inaudible to even his own ears.
They stayed there on the floor, long after Scott ceased shaking and his breathing normalized, long after Matt�s sobs stopped and his tears dried.
Scott shifted first, a small gasp of pain escaped despite his best efforts as his stiff shoulder moved.
�Scotty...�
�Sh,� the third baseman said, struggling to his feet with Matt�s help. �It�s ok.�
�It�s not-�
�It is.� Scott sat on the edge of Matt�s bed, managing a half smile as Morris knelt between his legs, deftly unbuttoning Rolen�s dress shirt and slipping it over his shoulders. He leaned forward, brushing his lips over Scott�s bare shoulder. The skin there seemed scalding to him, and he used his tongue to cool the heated flesh.
Rolen sighed and tangled his fingers in Matt�s hair as the pitcher�s mouth caressed his shoulder, somehow easing the ache.
Gently, Matt pushed him backwards on the bed. He nibbled across Scott�s collarbone and bit possessively into his neck, eliciting a cry of pleasure from Rolen. He soothed the mark and continued downwards, sending jolts of pure pleasure to pool in Scott�s groin.
�Matty...� he breathed, as Morris fiddled with his pants. Sighing, he slipped them over Scott�s hips and off. �Matt.�
�Hm?� He didn�t stop what he was doing, continuing to press kisses to the smooth skin.
�You don�t have to.�
He looked up this time, his eyes glinting. �I hurt you, Scotty. I...I...�
�I�m ok, though.�
�I�m just trying to help.�
Scott pulled the pitcher close and kissed him gently. �You are.�
Their kiss deepened as Matt struggled out of his clothes, leaving them with skin-on-skin contact. As the kiss broke, Matt again turned his attention to Rolen�s shoulder. �I�m still so so sorry.�
�I shouldn�t have said what I did, Matt. I�m sorry, too.�
�But you�re right and I�m not. So...lay down. I�ll make you forget you even have a shoulder.�
Scott couldn�t help his shiver of anticipation as Matt�s voice dropped into a husky, heated whisper. He lay back � somewhat gingerly � and his heart skipped as his gaze caught and held Matt�s, as he watched the pitcher slide down his body, continuing his maddeningly wonderful caresses.
And Morris was right, because by the time Scott came, screaming, some time later, he had not only forgotten that he had a shoulder, but also had misplaced muscle control, speech centers, and pretty much everything but the way Matt felt cuddled against him now, his own breathing labored as he recovered too. Scott took a deep breath and concentrated really hard. �Love you,� he managed.
Matt�s soft chuckle filled Rolen�s ears, and he burrowed closer to feel the vibrations in his chest. �I love you too, Scotty. I love you too.�
TBC at the conclusion of the World Series, which I hope beyond belief is not tonight.