#i'm sorry for the radio silence i just needed to rot for a little while u know? but i'm finding my creativity again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

glowstickia · 5 years ago

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39 (heartache), because I'm mean like that. ;)

[AO3]

Scars - Arm

Echo held her breath, steadied her aim, and pulled the trigger. “Got ‘em.” She grunted. Her focus returned to her scope as she swept the area, ignoring the blood seeping into the pavement of the unfortunate feral that came in her line of sight just seconds ago. Dogmeat’s tail thumped beside her. She smirked and gently patted his head, while keeping her eye on the street below. “How’d the recon go?” She asked, doing another gentle sweep with her eye.

“Oh, you know,” Deacon’s voice was steady. Tired. “Same ol’, smame old.” Echo pulled back from her scope to look at him in the eye-er, sunglasses. He gave her a lopsided grin. “Raiders hyped up on jet, cars being tickin’ time bombs, deathclaw rave party.” He shrugged as he leaned against the rusting air vents, far from the edge where her sniper rifle was propped.

“A party?” Echo placed an offending hand on her chest in mock gasp, “and you didn’t think to invite me? Rude.” She pulled Heartbreaker off the edge of the building and clicked the safety back in place as she cradled her sniper rifle. “Other than a few ferals,” she said, getting right back to business, “and some wild dogs, it’s been quiet.” She turned to Dogmeat, who had been patiently waiting beside her, “Ain’t that right bud?”

Dogmeat boofed quietly as his tail thumped, sweeping bits of rubble to the side with his fur. Deacon hummed thoughtfully and rubbed his chin.

“What is it, oh wise one?” Echo asked, adjusting her sunglasses.

“How many targets did ya hit, Bullseye?”

She sighed. So, this is how it was gonna be. “Like…” she mentally tallied the rotting bodies in the street, “four. All headshots. All ferals.” She added. She rolled her eyes as her fingers dug around her pockets for more .308 ammo. She pulled out Hearbreaker’s magazine and reloaded. “Why?”

Deacon nodded to himself. “Coolarooni,” he clapped his hands, “now let’s blow this joint.” He pushed off the vent and re-adjusted his postal shoulder bag. “Bet we can hit up Mercer house before sundown.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as she clicked the magazine back in place. She bowed her head and started to repack her belongings. “Is there movement or any pressing concerns-” Orange flashed from the corner of her eye. Her hand snapped the air, catching the holodisktape before it hit her face. Gunshots popped in the distance as chalk dust was smeared onto the holodisk. Leather gloved hands quickly shoved the holodisk into a blue and white mailbox. She blinked away the vision and frowned at him as she tweaked her sunglasses with her free hand. Good, they were still on. “What’s this?” She asked, waving the holodisk in his general face direction.

“A message from one of our tourists.” He said, tugging the newsboy cap that wasn’t there a moment ago. “You may need to beef up security.”

Her lips thinned as she pulled out her bright red voice recorder from her bag and popped in the holodisk. She gently cradled Heartbreaker on her lap, and pressed play.

[Mercer here. Uh. In need of a heavy to clear route for package delivery. Runner suspect the highwaymen are biding their time. Cords attached.]

Echo clicked the stop button and looked up to Deacon with a sigh. “They want their place back.”

Deacon bobbed his head and started making his way towards the fire escape. “Yep. And to think we took all those decorations down for nothing.”

Echo gagged, as she erased the tape and stuck the recorder in her backpack. “Ugh, please don’t remind me of their ‘party favors’. I still have nightmares.” She shuddered and stood up. Oooooh damn. She hissed and stretched her ankles against the air vent. Dogmeat took the moment to stretch his legs and trot up next to her. He whined. She shook her head and patted his head. “Good boy.” After re-gripping Heartbreaker, and making sure her ushanka hat wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, she clicked her tongue. “C’mon boy, let’s move out.”

Dogmeat’s tail wagged as he followed. Echo smiled at him briefly, letting Dogmeat trail behind as she watched Deacon with a trained eye. His grip on the railing did not go unnoticed.

Echo followed Deacon’s lead as they traversed the streets. They both knew he had a better sense of direction. Dogmeat trotted ahead and sniffed the ground. He, more than once, gently howled, warning them of nearby ferals…or dogs. With a few detours and the sun’s rays blinding them westward, they slowed their pace.

“We’re approaching Anna’s Cafe.” Deacon said, voice low as he checked the alleyway, silently stepping over tumbled brick and broken mortar.

Echo chewed her lip. “Think that’s where they’re camping?” When he turned, sunglasses matching hers, she sighed. “Greaaaaaaaaaat.” She grumbled, adjusting her grip on Heartbreaker. “And here we are without party favors.”

Deacon huffed a laugh. Got ‘im . “Really? Cause I made sure to bring a gift this time.“ He grinned as he clicked off the safety on his rifle.

Echo shook her head. “I told you before, your presence ain’t a gift, it’s a curse .”

Deacon dramatically placed a hand over his heart, “Ouch,” he grinned as he crouched down, "been hanging around Dez too much?“

Echo snorted as she joined him. “No, though I have heard something from Tinker Tom about you meddling with the time stream.”

He chuckled. “Ah, good ol’ Tom. He knows I’m a delight, no matter the era.” Dogmeat boofed quietly. He nodded. “See?”

Echo rolled her eyes and sighed. “Mhm.” She turned to Dogmeat and gave him a soft pat, “stay out of trouble.” Dogmeat’s tail thumped a little. She smirked at Deacon, “Ready to crash a party?”

Deacon matched her grin. “I call dibs on the snack bar.” Dogmeat trotted behind them as they snuck their way to the cafe.

It was a surprise party after all.

Echo hissed as she rolled to her side as her shoulder left throbbed. Oooo, yep, yea that was gonna bruise . She huffed as she sat up and rubbed her mouth against the back of her wrist. A quick check, and yep, nosebleed . She sighed loudly and looked around. Her ears were still ringing as the 200 years worth of radiated dust build up began to settle. One lens on her sunglasses was cracked. Great. Fantastic. And her hat waaas… She patted her ears and was met with the soft padding of the ear flaps. At least something wasn’t a total mess.

With determination and sheer stubbornness she pushed off the ground with her good arm and surveyed the damage. The cafe was still standing…miraculously. Foundation held on, but blood and gore was probably scattered everywhere upstairs. She wrinkled her nose at the thought and mentally backpedaled before kicking the door shut. “Focus.” she reminded herself as she picked up Heartbreaker. She should reload, but-. Dogmeat whined to her left. Following the sound, she carefully stepped over empty tin cans and chunks of rubble, into the old cafe.

Laughter entered her ears as her hand gently brushed the doorframe. Its hinges were empty, void of a door that once stood proud, pristine, and kept out the summer winds and cold December chill. A cello thrummed in her mind as a lone radio sat in silence on the ruined countertop. The old register was dented, rusting, and wide open with a couple caps hiding inside. She leaned over the counter seeing a familiar pair of shades as Dogmeat barked up at her.

‘Watch out for flying glass’ The music trilled. ‘Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out-’

Echo knocked on the counter. “Helloooo, I’d like some coffee?” She said, pushing through and brushing away the phantom music. “And my friend here is thinking about needing some pastries in a doggie bag?”

Dogmeat’s tail wagged as he walked over and sniffed Deacon’s chest. He grunted and groaned as Dogmeat gave his cheek a good cleaning. “Hey Bud.” He sucked in some air, “Sorry, ma’am, we’re fresh out.” Deacon righted his hat and sunglasses with his left hand, while he left his right hand hidden from Echo’s current view.

Echo gave a couple short whistles. Deacon whined at the noise. Dogmeat sat tall as he looked up at her with his ears perked. She clicked her tongue and gestured with her head behind her. Dogmeat gave a soft boof and happily trotted to her side. She frowned, immediately seeing the shine of slick red on Deacon’s right arm. “You need a doc.”

“Hmm?” He looked down and blew a raspberry, “Workmen’s cooooomp.”

She set Heartbreaker against one of the once plush, red stools, and made her way around the counter. “Deeks,” she said, keeping her tone even as she set her backpack at their feet and crouched to his level. She clicked her tongue and Dogmeat appeared right beside her. “Dogmeat. Go find something soft.” She raised her left hand towards the stairs and winced. Fuck…shoulder… Dogmeat boofed and ran up the stairs.

“Good man.” Deacon said, sitting up straighter with a grunt. “Seems like I won’t be the only one getting workman’s comp ey?” He grinned showing too many teeth. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Echo hummed a bit. “No, pretty sure Carrington’s gonna chew you out more than me.” She opened her bag and began rummaging around in it. Where… “After all you are the senior field agent, bucko.”

“To wilful men, the injuries that they themselves procure must be their schoolmasters.”

“Alright, King Lear.” She said, popping open a can of purified water, “Give me your arm and maybe I’ll make sure you won’t die.”

Deacon chuckled. “It was Regan.” He corrected as he raised his arm towards her. “And you’ve got better bedside manner than our resident ray of sunshine.”

Echo snorted as she poured a lil bit of the water onto his arm. “Yea? Never in all my years did I think I could surpass Mr. Sourpuss.” She sat the can down, while her free hand helped keep weight off his arm.

Bullets cracked against the cement as she leaned against the wall, heart racing and drumming so loud he couldn’t think. High Rise chuckled beside him. “Close one, huh Deeks?” He flashed a grin on his face, wet with sweat and blood.

“Not done yet.” She murmured.

“Bullseye,” Deacon whistled at her, “grip bit, ah, tight.” he hissed as her fingers released, leaving a faint ghost on his skin, “Damn,” his voice sounded tired, “had a grip like a mirelurk claw. You okay, Boss?”

Echo cleared her throat and set a bottle of vodka at their feet. “Fine.” she said, keeping it short so her voice wouldn’t betray her, “just…remembered someone is all.” It wasn’t a lie per se…

He arched an eyebrow at her, but for once, was quiet as she focused on cleaning his wound. It looked deep.

“You’re gonna need a stim.” She said, forcing herself to keep steady and calm and ignored the gunshots and H2’s whimpers in her head. She was here . It was just her, and Deacon, and Dogmeat. They just fought off the band of raiders in Anna’s Cafe. They’ll go to Hangman’s Alley and have a nice long rest in Mercer house. Then return to HQ in the morning. Back route. Report. And-

Dogmeat nuzzled her hands out of her bag as she blinked. His fur was…grounding as he let her rub his head.

“Hey boy,” she laughed a little, “was wondering when you’d be coming back.” He boofed. “Well? Find anything.” He barked softly and trotted off. She watched him climb the stairs until a soft cough caught her attention.

“Echo,” Deacon leaned against the rubble behind him, adjusting slightly to dislodge whatever was poking his back. His brows scrunched ever so slightly, despite being obscured by his sunglasses, “didja forget to turn off the stove in HQ again?“ he’s mouth twitched a smirk, “You know Des hates burnt cookies.”

Echo snorted. “No, it’s not the stove. Besides, I’m pretty sure Drummer Boy was working on some casserole recipe tonight. Something about mole rats and tato’s.”

“Eugh, mole rat meatloaf…” He stuck his tongue out in disgust as Echo rummaged in her bag again, “Hope there’s not left overs.”

“Mmmm,” Echo pulled out the tin box marked with a + with duct tape. She popped it open and smiled a bit. 4 stims, some rolls of gauze, and a salve she learned to make a few-no longer than a few months ago. She picked up the stimpak. “Well, if there are, I’ll make sure to give my portion to you.” She flicked the stimpack, something she read in a medical journal a long time ago.

“You cruel mistress.” He scrunched his nose, “Having me suffer stomach aches alone? Criminal.”

She swallowed as she looked at Deacon’s wound. She’d need to keep him steady to inject the stim, but… She huffed. “Hold still.” It didn’t give him a lot of time to react as her hand went to his wrist again and the stim worked its medical magic.

The ground and walls were burned, charred slightly from laser blast and angry fire. She’d seen them before as his hand came back blackened by ash. He didn’t want to look at the body by the fallen shelf, he looked everywhere around the room, until he finally approached Tommy Whispers. The bruised eyes. Deliverer still in his hands. It was Tommy.

Echo exhaled as she busied herself with her bag. The stim was spent, but she could chuck it in boiled water later. Once sanitized maybe Carrington would let them take more than a few stims on these missions. Or maybe she could trade it for a discount-

Deacon cleared his throat as he sat up. His eyes, or what she could tell behind his sunglassed mask, stared at his skin as it closed the gap. “Think it’ll make a wicked scar or somethin’?”

She closed her bag and shrugged. “I mean it was pretty deep.” She pointed to the scar that stretched from her jaw and curved above her brow. “Though won’t make as sick of a story as this one. You’ll need to spice it up a bit.”

Deacon rubbed his chin in thought. “Mirelurk-nah didn’t bust any bones…” he snapped his fingers, “mole rats. Swarm of ‘em.”

Echo snorted. He was just throwing her off. “Ah, so you could get out of Drummer Boy’s mole rat meatloaf?”

Deacon crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Exactly.”

“Good luck with that. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed you didn’t bring back any meat to contribute.” She stood and stretched her back, “Sun’s setting.” she said, walking around the counter and retrieving Heartbreaker. She hissed, swapping her rifle’s weight to her other arm. She didn’t have to turn around to see the arched brow or other such judgmental looks Deacon was giving her behind her back. “I’m fine.” she said, absolutely not fine, but she would be once she had some pain pills in her. Or something cold against the definite bruise on her shoulder. “Just fell a bit hard is all.”

Dogmeat gave a muffled bark as he dragged something heavy down the stairs. The duo turned and watched Dogmeat drag a super sledge to Deacon’s feet.

Deacon laughed as he picked up the super sledge and patted Dogmeat’s head. “Who’s a good boy?” Dogmeat danced, his front paws alternating in bounce as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. “Yea, you are bud. Finding weapons of mass destruction~” he rubbed Dogmeat’s face and lifted the sledge hammer.

“Welp, that explains why he was taking so long.” Her lips twitched a grin, “Gonna use that next time?”

“Oh fuck no.” He said, leaning on it, “You know I prefer sneakery.” He patted the handle, “Though I’m sure someone would like this puppy.”

Echo gestured to Dogmeat. “Of course they would. No one can resist this face.” Dogmeat barked in agreement.

Deacon laughed.

#fallout #deacon #deacon fallout 4 #fo4 #dogmeat #samara 'echo' gray #asking glow #corvegaassemblyplant #glow writes #fallout fic

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megaphonemonday · 8 years ago

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Okay, I'm absolutely aware this may be a no-go from the start, and to be fair, I'm crazy about Bawson. But I love Livan too! Would love to see a Ginny/Livan ficlet, or even an OT3 with him. Poor Cuban papi deserves some loving too, and those dimples are being wasted with no love interest for him :)

okay so i have never written a poly relationship before and this is so so far out of my wheelhouse, but i actually really love this ot3 because the idea of Ginny and Livan running circles around old man Lawson brings me such joy

to maybe make up for the fact that i took approximately forever writing this, have like 12.5k instead of a ficlet??

(also, hey @mindykahling)

without sense | ao3

Somehow, the first person that Ginny saw after breaking up with Noah was Livan. She hadn’t even told Evelyn about the split, yet there was one of her catchers. And it wasn’t even the catcher she would’ve picked.

She’d known abstractly that Livan was still living at the Omni in the off-season, but she’d never actually seen evidence of him around. Maybe because he liked hitting the bars for a little “dancing and flirting,” and Ginny liked hitting the sack at a reasonable hour. Bumping into him (literally) at the convenience store half a block away at 11:30 on a Thursday night probably counted, though.

He eyed her basket, piled high with both Ben and Jerry’s and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, critically and asked, “Rough night, mami?”

Ginny sniffed. In disdain. Not because tears were threatening to spill again at the thought of exactly how rough her night had been. She ducked her head and muttered, “None of your business.”

Before she knew it, her basket was being gently pulled from her grip and an arm was dropping over her shoulders. Surprised, she forgot about the red rimming her eyes and glanced up at Livan. He grinned down at her, not even a flicker of pity crossing his face at the sight of hers.

“I think I’m going to make it my business,” he said, steering her towards the checkout counter. First, though, he made a pitstop in the candy aisle and grabbed nearly one of everything.

“How haven’t your teeth rotted out?” Ginny asked, a little horrified and a little impressed.

His hand faltered on the way to a bag of gummy bears, but he recovered pretty quickly, tossing it into the basket. “Making up for lost time,” he replied, forcing the words to come out smoothly and Ginny wanted to cringe. She did blush. How could she be so obtuse? Seriously, couldn’t she do anything right?

“Well,” she offered, feeling both too big and too small in her skin, “my uncle’s a dentist. He’ll make your dentures when they do.”

That earned a laugh, a real laugh, from Livan and Ginny finally found herself smiling in spite of herself. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have him around. They paid quickly and headed back to the hotel, Livan gallantly carrying most of their score since Ginny was still down an arm.

It wasn’t until they were both shut in her room, picking through their rations, that Ginny realized she’d never actually invited him in.

She turned a suspicious glare on him. Despite the fact that he’d just peeled off the plastic wrap on her carton of ice cream. “Why are you butting in, again?”

“What? A man can’t join his teammate for some late night snacks?” He didn’t look her in the eye, though, simply picked through his bag of M&Ms.

Ginny decided not to press it. “I guess. But you were right at the store.” Her attention was taken up with not flinging ice cream around the room as she struggled with her left hand. Finally, the spoon successfully dug into the pint of Half Baked and came up with a chunk of cookie dough. She stared hard at it as she confessed, “It has been a rough night.”

“I already knew that, mami,” he drawled, smirking at Ginny’s exasperated huff. For a minute, it was quiet between them. Then, he sighed and turned on the couch so he could face her. Silently, Ginny mirrored him. “I’ll say mine if you say yours.”

She raised an eyebrow, unsure if this was going into some kind of “I’ll show you mine” territory. Still, it would be nice to unload on someone and Evelyn had her own life to deal with; she couldn’t always be around for Ginny’s problems. Maybe it would be good to have someone else. Someone who didn’t have a family to take care of.

“Fine,” she agreed, and pointed her spoon at Livan, “but you’re going first.”

His eyes narrowed, but the smirk didn’t fall from his lips. “You drive a hard bargain, Baker.” Ginny just stared him down and he sighed again, some of the bravado fading. “I think Isabella has fallen in love with someone else.”

“You think she’s cheating on you?”

He scowled. “No. Isabella wouldn’t do that. She is too honorable. But I can’t really blame her for thinking about it. It is lonely, being the one left behind.”

Livan sounded like he knew from experience.

“And besides, it’s not like she has something to take up all her time the way I do. Of course she finds comfort in others.”

“But you don’t know for sure,” Ginny offered, shifting just enough that her knee brushed against his. She would have touched his arm or shoulder, but the ice cream had turned her fingers cold and clammy. It wouldn’t have been that comforting. Still, when Livan knocked his knee against hers in acknowledgement, a flutter of understanding exploded in her stomach.

He smiled sadly, though. “I am sure. Isabella and I have known each other for years. She does not need to tell me for me to know she is unhappy. Or when she is in love.” He shook himself before Ginny could offer any more apologies. “There. You’ve heard mine. Now tell me yours.”

Heaving a sigh, Ginny set aside her ice cream. “I broke up with my boyfriend today,” she admitted.

Livan’s eyebrows raised. “You broke up with him? Shouldn’t he be the one with all the ice cream, then?”

“I’m allowed to be sad, too,” she sniped sourly, nearly crossing her arms over her chest in a huff.

“True, but you must have had a reason.”

Ginny looked down, digging her spoon back into the slowly melting mess. Her jaw worked side to side as she considered her words.

Haltingly, she said, “It was supposed to be easy and fun. A distraction for the off-season, which sounds terrible now that I say it out loud.”

That was the worst of it. The guilt that she’d used Noah to make herself feel better, and it hadn’t even—

“I liked him. I did. A lot. But we had next to nothing in common and it was exhausting coming up with reasons that I should want to be with him.”

Gently, Livan prodded, “That doesn’t explain why you’re so sad.”

“I just wanted it to work. It was supposed to work! What’s wrong with me that I couldn’t make it work?” she demanded, tears threatening to fall again.

He tutted, sounding so much like her grandmother that Ginny started to giggle. Tears and laughter. They both made her feel better. She tipped slightly to the side and her shoulder connected with Livan’s.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment before Livan nodded decisively, like he’d made up his mind. Ginny hadn’t even realized there was anything to decide.

“I’ll be your distraction,” he declared. At Ginny’s raised eyebrow, his smirk returned in full force. “Not like that, mamita. I’ve heard about your code.”

Which was absolutely ridiculous. Apparently her teammates had been chattering behind her back.

Livan wasn’t done, though, his smirk turning a hair more sincere. “I bet you have seen nothing of this city and me? I’m just a poor cubano, lost in this ridiculous country. You must show me your ways.”

Charming as he was, Ginny could tell that he wasn’t used to hearing no and probably wouldn’t take one this time around.

Good thing she didn’t really want to tell him no. She could do with a friend right now.

So, she stuck out her hand and said, “It’s a deal,” smiling as they shook on it.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ginny knew that suddenly befriending Livan Duarte would stir up a whole mess of shit.

That didn’t mean she regretted her decision. No, she just had to start avoiding supermarket magazine racks even more diligently than before.

Thankfully, Amelia hadn’t said anything about it when they decided to start working with each other again, even though Ginny knew she and Livan had been papped when they went for a beach run a week ago. In fact, no one actually said anything about it to Ginny. Not Blip, not Evelyn, not her mother, who didn’t even kick up much of a fuss when Ginny told her she’d be staying in San Diego for the holidays. Not anyone.

Except Mike.

In the middle of December, after two months of radio silence, Ginny got a text.

Mike I see you and my back up have been painting the town red

Ginny stared at the message for a long moment. Long enough for her phone to buzz again as a reminder. Finally, she picked it up and tapped out a response, trying not to sound defensive and failing.

Me Yep. He’s been helping me with PT and neither of us know the city that well, so we’ve been hanging out. Getting a head start on spring training stuff too.

It took much longer for Mike’s answer to come back.

Mike Well you’ve got a perfectly good catcher, no need to shop around for another.

Again, Ginny just stared at the message.

On the one hand, it was nice to know that Mike still considered himself her catcher, still thought that she’d be around come spring training. The stupid swoop of excitement in her chest was testament enough to that.

On the other, this was the only evidence she had that Mike thought that. He hadn’t come to any of her doctor’s appointments or checked in on her (carefully monitored) workouts. He hadn’t even talked to her much outside a short visit in the hospital right after the game.

She knew why he’d pulled away. He had to focus on the final games of the season and repairing his marriage. But. Blip had been facing the same problems and still managed to be a good friend. To be fair, Blip didn’t also have to deal with the fallout of an almost-trade to Chicago, not that it seemed like Mike was doing much on that front. As soon as the season ended, he’d headed out to LA without so much as a goodbye. Not to Ginny, and certainly not to Livan, at least.

So while she understood his reasons and even wanted Mike to be happy in an abstract sense, Ginny was carrying around some (completely justified) annoyance with him.

Which was probably why she eventually replied:

Me Sorry, old man. That’s a convo for Oscar, but I’ve got a feeling you won’t have much luck.

Mike Don’t think I didn’t try.

Ginny rolled her eyes and had a response tapped out lightning quick.

Me I know it’s hard at your advanced age, but not all changes are bad, Lawson. I’m not trash talking Livan with you

Feeling strange leaving it at that, she also sent:

But if you want all the SD gossip, I’m your girl.

She contemplated locking her phone and tossing it in the gap between her bed and the wall rather than wait to see if Mike would take the proffered opportunity. Instead, those little dots popped up on his side of the conversation and Ginny waited with bated breath.

Mike All right, rookie. Lay it on me. What’ve I missed?

Practically beaming, Ginny fell over herself to fill him in all the trivial shit she’d gleaned from the grapevine.

And unlike the two and a half months preceding, neither of them let the ball drop.

Every so often, Ginny would send Mike more Padres gossip or pictures of weird shit she ran into around the city, demanding explanation from San Diego’s unofficial mayor.

Or, Mike would send her recommendations for restaurants and stores, which Ginny checked out without fail, sometimes bringing Livan along. Mike would always respond snippily if she told him about her company, but she figured this counted as exposure therapy. Give Mike as much time before February to get used to his backup, and maybe he’d stop acting like such a diva.

She was just sending off another selfie of her and Livan, this time at the old fashioned ice cream parlor Mike suggested—in spite of the fact that it was early January and Ginny suspected Livan was still trying to shake off a New Year’s hangover—when she felt her smirking friend’s attention on her.

She hardly even had to look at him anymore to know he was giving her a heavy lidded gaze, the set of his mouth pure amusement. “Spit it out, Duarte.”

“What’s going on with you and Lawson?”

Which was not at all what Ginny was expecting. Usually when she insisted on a selfie, his smirking dimples (which were entirely different from his laughing or smug dimples) would make an appearance and he’d crack a joke about how she could get as close as she wanted.

Ginny busied herself staring down at her phone’s screen, waiting for a twitter notification or a snapchat, something to come in as an adequate distraction. Nothing. Yet again, the internet failed her.

“What are you talking about?” she hedged, refusing to make eye contact. “What’s there to go on?”

“You can be honest, mami,” he replied, nudging her conspiratorially. “I’ll keep your secret.”

“Where did you—? There’s no secret to keep!”

Livan rocked back a little at her vehemence, and Ginny was shocked into looking him in the eye. Immediately, his gaze turned assessing.

Immediately, she recognized her mistake.

Where before, he’d just been teasing, trying to get a rise out of her, now Livan knew he’d stumbled upon something juicy. It was going to take one hell of a distraction to get him to drop it now.

“What’s it you Americans like saying so much? Something about a lady protesting too much?”

Ginny’s lips pursed, but she silently dug into the giant banana split they’d ordered. If Livan wanted to run his mouth and miss out on ice cream, that wasn’t her fault.

“C’mon, Ginny,” he coaxed, sounding suddenly so much like Evelyn fishing for gossip that she had to suppress a giggle. “I know what I’ve seen and there’s no way there isn’t anything going on.”

She shoved the full spoon in her mouth, shivering a little at the lump of slowly melting ice cream on her tongue. Not that that kept her from shoveling more of the banana split into her face. She couldn’t very well answer nosy questions with a full mouth, could she?

Livan, seeing their supposedly shared dessert rapidly disappearing, made a choice and let the matter drop.

For now.

Ginny was under no illusions that he would bring it up again, probably when she least expected it or was somehow compromised and more likely to tell him the truth.

If she knew what the truth was, maybe she’d be more inclined to tell him.

Here was what Ginny knew:

She had feelings for Mike. Feelings that she’d tried to deny and suppress and had finally settled on ignoring. Because Mike was her teammate for the time being and while Ginny was maybe rethinking her policy on dating teammates, he was her captain, too, and was trying to reconcile with his wife.

Which was more important to Ginny. She had zero interest in breaking up a marriage. She had zero interest in being perceived as a homewrecker on top of whatever other bullshit was laid at her door.

And if Mike did leave Rachel, only to start dating Ginny, then she definitely would be painted as the homewrecker. No matter what Ginny did or didn’t do, the press would see one story and tell it.

And last: None of that mattered. Ginny still wanted Mike.

But Mike wasn’t going to be her catcher forever, so she figured she might as well get used to it now. What was to say all these feelings weren’t just the product of too much time spent in close proximity? What was to say she’d feel the same about him once he retired?

(Nothing aside from gut instinct and an inexplicable certainty.)

Much as she might hope and wish that she’d be part of his life after he retires, there was no guarantee. Particularly if things ended up working out with Rachel. Much as Ginny liked to think she’d be able to stand by and watch someone else make Mike happy, the sick roiling in her stomach at the sight of them together had made her increasingly unsure.

Another reason to avoid supermarket magazine racks.

So, there was nothing wrong with making sure that she’d have a solid support system if things didn’t work out the way she hoped. And Livan was definitely part of that.

A part that she could admit to being more fond of than she’d anticipated.

He was there. And he didn’t have a wife he was trying to win back. For all he was basically a political exile, Livan was so much less complicated than nearly everyone else in her life.

And Ginny could really do with fewer complications.

Although, looking at the upstart catcher sitting at her side while thinking about the tangle of feelings she harbored for the man he was supposed to replace, Ginny started to worry that complicated was just the beginning of her problems.

The day her doctor and PT cleared her to start a throwing regimen again, she and Livan went out to celebrate. They hit a bar with a view of the ocean and each ordered a drink, which quickly became three or four each.

Which probably explained how they got to the topic at hand. Maybe. Sort of.

Livan had just ordered her a celebratory shot and demanded to know what she was most excited to get back to.

“Honestly?” she asked, face twisting as the rum burned down her throat, kicking Livan when he laughed at her discomfort. “It’s just good to be one step closer to spring training. It’ll be nice to feel like part of the team again.”

While she’d still made it to most of the September games, had dressed for them, and sat in the dugout with everyone else, Ginny knew most of her teammates were suddenly aware again that she was The Girl™.

Worse, she was The Injured Girl™.

Suddenly, she was being treated with kid gloves: no playful jostling or teasing, just wide berths and vaguely guilty glances. In a way it was sweet. In another way, Ginny’d been ready to bite someone’s head off by the time the season ended.

Livan had just looked doubtful.

“You want to feel like one of those maniacs?”

Ginny could only shake her head ruefully. Clearly, he hadn’t learned to appreciate a good team yet. And why would he? Team work wasn’t what had gotten him off Cuba. “They’re harmless,” she’d replied. “Miles better than some of the guys I’ve had to share a clubhouse with.”

Which was how she’d been roped into telling Livan all about the bullshit she’d had to put up with in the minors. How the men who were meant to be her teammates hadn’t reacted well to being told a teenage girl was joining their ranks. Sure, not all of them were assholes, but enough had tried to intimidate her into leaving: hiding her stuff, tearing holes in her uniforms, parading around naked to make her uncomfortable. It sucked, but Ginny hadn’t signed her contract under the impression that everyone was going to love having her around. She’d signed for a shot at fulfilling her pop’s dream.

Things were different with the Padres, though.

“Haven’t seen one of my teammates’ dicks in my time in the bigs and I couldn’t be happier,” she grinned, ignoring the fact that maybe there was one or, okay, maybe two dicks she wouldn’t mind getting a good look at.

What Ginny expected was an appreciative chuckle and maybe a little eyebrow wagging. Not what actually came out of Livan’s mouth.

“I’ve seen Lawson’s,” he admitted, taking a long pull from his bottle.

Ginny’s eyes went wide and Livan smirked. She leaned hard against the bar at that information, knowing that the yarns her mind spun out likely had little basis in reality. Still, she couldn’t help the way her mouth went dry.

“How?” she breathed, which wasn’t at all what she meant to say, but since she wanted to know the answer, she couldn’t really regret it.

“First time I met him. He was in an ice bath when Arguella took me down to the clubhouse. Decided he needed to show me who’s in charge, so he stood up to prove what a man he is. It would have worked.” He sounded more than idly impressed and everything went hazy in Ginny’s brain for a moment. As soon as she tried to picture that interaction, though, heat flooded her face. She took a hasty gulp of her drink as cover, though when Livan shook himself, he slid Ginny a sly glance. “If I were the type to be intimidated by the sight of another man’s dick.”

Ginny’s brow furrowed. Was he—? She’d suspected, but— “And what type is that?”

“The rigidly masculine,” he replied, his gaze sliding sideways and landing on her. “Or who thinks masculinity must be rigid. The kind of man who refuses to appreciate another man’s body.”

“That’s all you do,” she turned to face him, intrigued. Elbow propped on the bar, she leaned into his space. “Appreciate?”

A slow smile bloomed on Livan’s face and Ginny had never really taken time to think about how handsome he was. With his dimples and chiseled jaw, it was no wonder he had groupies throwing themselves at him left and right. He leaned in close and Ginny could practically feel his warm breath against her lips.

“Are you asking me to kiss and tell?”

“Are you saying there’s something to tell?”

They stared each other down for a moment longer before they both broke into giggles. Livan tapped his bottle against hers and nodded his acknowledgement.

“You’ll have to get me drunker than this to get me to start spilling my secrets,” he confessed, taking another sip.

“Is it a secret?” she worried aloud. Ginny didn’t want to pressure him into telling her anything.

His head tilted to the side in consideration. “No,” he replied after a moment’s thought. “It’s not something that I share often, but it’s not a secret.”

“That must be nice.” The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about them.

Livan didn’t react, though, just waited her out.

Ginny chewed on her lip before caving. She’d have to tell someone at some point. It might as well be someone who’d definitely understand while she was a little tipsy. Pretend the drinks had loosened her tongue if things went to hell.

“I’ve wondered, you know. What it would be like. With a…”

“Woman,” he filled in.

She nodded, grateful the bartender had been ignoring their end of the bar for the past few minutes. “Yeah. I never really got a chance to figure out if it was just theoretical, though. By the time I realized that I like girls, too, I was in the minors, making my way up. There was already so much public scrutiny because of what I was doing, I didn’t want more because of who I was doing.”

Livan snorted at that and Ginny felt her nerves calm. She took another drag from her bottle, disappointed to find that it was empty. Her drinking partner just laughed and dropped some money on the bar to cover their drinks. Then, he swung himself off his stool and motioned her to do the same.

“You tell any of the guys this and I’ll fill your locker with shaving cream,” she promised as they stepped out into the cool air.

His hand came up to clutch at his heart. “You wound me, chica.” He did actually sound hurt, theatrics notwithstanding.

She rolled her eyes, but still offered him an apologetic smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just trying to cut down on the chances of one of them asking me to be in a threesome.”

Livan tossed an arm around her shoulder, chuckling quietly. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he murmured, a dangerous grin set off by deep dimples.

The suggestion in his tone definitely didn’t make Ginny shiver, but it did make her elbow him in the gut.

In the weeks before she left for spring training, it felt like Ginny didn’t stop moving.

Between PT, appointments in the bullpen with the pitching coach, hanging out with the Sanders clan and/or Livan, fielding texts from Mike, business meetings with Amelia, and fulfilling her promotional duties to Nike, Ginny hardly had time to breathe, let alone relax.

Not that she minded. She was too excited by the prospect of finally getting to play again.

There was nothing quite like a forced vacation to set her priorities straight. And as many doubts as Ginny’d had last season, it was nice to know that she missed baseball. This was what she wanted to be doing. Not forever, but definitely while she could. She was practically itching to get back on the mound.

Which was why Ginny was nearly quaking with excitement at 8:00AM on Valentine’s Day. In spite of the fact that she’d had to haul her ass out of bed, had no romantic plans for the day, and was stuck in the airport waiting for her delayed flight. None of that mattered. Spring training started today!

Next to her, Livan slumped in one of the cushy armchairs that were apparently kept safe from the masses the Admiral’s Lounge.

She had very little sympathy for him. He’d known all about their early flight and still decided to go out and drink. Even after she’d declined his invitation.

(The only sympathy Ginny felt for Livan was for his recently broken heart. It turned out that Isabella had wanted to start seeing someone else. Naturally, Livan didn’t put up much of an argument, but Ginny could tell he was moping.

She tried to combat this by hiding candy bars in his hotel room every time she came by to chivvy him into a workout, but he never said anything about it. He did seem marginally more cheerful, though.)

She’d had to knock on his room’s door for a solid ten minutes before she even heard signs of life this morning. When he’d wrenched it open to glare at her blearily, all Ginnysaid was, “I hope you already packed because our car will be here in half an hour.”

Because he wasn’t a total disaster, he had and they’d gotten to the airport with minimal hangover-induced casualties.

“¿Por qué estamos aquí tan temprano, mami?” he mumbled, his head falling pitifully to her shoulder.

Ginny’d played enough winter ball south of the border to cobble together his meaning, but it was pretty adorable that sleepy and hungover, Livan’s language filter turned off.

“You didn’t have to take this flight, papi,” she reminded him, settling her shoulder more comfortably under the weight of his big head. “There are flights basically every hour to Phoenix. You could have picked any of them.”

“All I’m hearing is that I can fall asleep now and when I wake up, there will still be an airplane to take me to Arizona.”

Ginny snorted. “If you’re fine flying standby. You’d be lucky to get stuck in a middle seat between someone with a cold and a screaming baby.”

Livan peeled an eye open to stare at her judgmentally. “Look at me. There’s no way they’d make me sit in a middle seat.”

“Ooh, yeah,” she laughed. “How could I forget that ‘hungover Cuban’ is everyone’s dream man?”

“You two are looking cozy.”

Ginny startled at the familiar voice, jostling Livan from his resting spot. Which, on the plus side, was enough to startle him awake, but on the negative, made him whine like a baby.

“Ow!” He glared, rubbing his neck, about two seconds away from pouting.

“You’re fine,” she told the whining catcher before looking up at Mike Lawson himself. Because he was standing right in front of her instead of somewhere in LA where he’d been all off-season. “He’s fine.”

Mike just looked semi-amused. Ginny could practically hear the, “I’d be fine if he weren’t,” but Mike kept his mouth shut for once. Which was nice. It gave her a chance to study him rather than tell him off for being a dick.

His hair had gotten long. Long enough to show off the slight wave in it. Long enough for her to wonder what it would feel like wrapped around her fingers as he—

Which, all right. That was enough studying for one day.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, glad that her shock outweighed any embarrassment.

Mike shrugged, falling into the empty seat on her other side. He sprawled, looking nearly as tired as Livan and Ginny was filled with amused affection for these two disasters sitting beside her.

“You really know how to make a guy feel welcome, Baker,” he replied dryly.

Ginny rolled her eyes but dutifully responded, “Hi, Mike. It’s nice to see you. What are you doing here?”

That earned a chuckle from him, though she was sure Livan was smirking like a maniac, filing this interaction away to annoy her with later.

She didn’t really care. It was nice to see Mike, even if his presence was a surprise.

“I had a few things to go over with the front office,” Mike finally replied, leveling Ginny with a blank stare. Well, he was going for blank, but Ginny could see wisps of confusion and suspicion, but also latent affection. It was nice to know she could still read him after all these months. “Not like I needed to go back to LA before heading out to Arizona.”

Ginny wasn’t sure if there was more to what he was saying, but she couldn’t afford to really think about it. Not if she wanted to stay sane for the next six weeks.

Livan, unfortunately, had no such reservations.

“Trouble in paradise, Lawson?” he drawled, slouching in his seat so he could tilt his head against the low backrest.

Mike craned around Ginny to glare at his ailing backup, but didn’t bother responding. Instead, he grumpily settled back into his own seat, frowning all the while.

All Ginny could do was roll her eyes. Apparently she was in the company of Major League Baseball’s grumpiest catchers today.

Well, they couldn’t keep it up forever.

Except, apparently, they could.

“Here, mamita,” he said, handing over a paper boat with three sopes. Before she could check, he kept going, “No cilantro, I know. My abuela would kill for some back home, and you treat it like it’s poison.”

Ginny shrugged, knowing he was just teasing, but also trying not to telegraph how much attention she was paying to Mike a few seats away. He’d opened his mouth the minute Livan walked up, but froze when he mentioned the cilantro. Now, Mike’s gaze was just darting between them, like he had missed out on something and was scrambling to figure out what it was.

She kept her observations to herself and grinned at Livan.

It was no secret that Mike was disgruntled as all hell by her and Livan’s friendship. (Apparently, exposure therapy hadn’t worked quite as well as she’d hoped.) Ginny was pretty sure it was equal parts alpha male bullshit and jealousy, so did her best to ignore him. If he wanted to pull his head out of his ass, she’d be more than willing to discuss the matter with him, but that didn’t seem all that likely now.

Although he was probably under the impression that Ginny didn’t want to talk about their feelings for each other at all, and she didn’t. Not at all. Not even after he admitted to things not working out with Rachel. And in spite of the fact that Mike would sometimes look at her and she’d forget that they were in the middle of a game because all she wanted to do was make him explain what, exactly, was going on in that head of his that made him look at her like she was the greatest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Ginny would be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same way about him most days.

Okay, maybe she was sending some mixed signals.

Admittedly, it probably didn’t help that her friendship with Livan seemed so flirty. But Livan didn’t mean anything by it. He'd flirt with anything that moved if he was bored enough. Even if sometimes Ginny got a little too caught up in the back and forth banter and found herself flushing, heart tripping at the sight of his dangerous smirk.

Just look at the man! It was a natural response, okay?

For his part, Livan liked being Mike’s backup exactly as much as he did last season. Which was to say: not at all. And, since he couldn’t needle Mike on the field, he took to doing it off, often leaving Ginny in the crossfire.

(It was entirely too easy to forget that she even tolerated either of them when they were intent on turning the Peoria clubhouse into the opening battle of World War III.)

Still, she refused to pick a side, telling both of the, fully grown, men to start acting like adults.

Which typically went well for a while until things devolved into another petty argument and everything went to hell again.

Now, though, they were in one of those rare periods of good behavior. Extended good behavior, even. Neither catcher had sniped at each other in more than a week, proving that they were, in fact, capable of acting more like grown men than betta fish.

Mike, though, looked like he was perfectly willing to toss that hard earned peace out the window.

Ginny distracted him, waving her fork in his direction. “Wanna try, Lawson?”

He glanced suspiciously between her and Livan, though he did stand up and move so he could sit next to her. This close, she could smell the sweat and dirt on him. He hadn’t bothered to shower after their morning work out, not with an afternoon one on the way, at least. With one last squinty look at Livan, Mike wiggled his fingers at Ginny.

She handed the plastic fork over as Livan mumbled something about agreeing to feed her, not their captain. Mike rolled his eyes and took a big bite, his eyebrows raising in pleasant surprise. As he chewed, Ginny could see the cogs in his brain turning, and she cut him off before the thought could fully form.

“No way, old man!” she warned, plucking the fork from his grasp and falling on the food again. “You want more, get your own!”

Mike smacked his lips thoughtfully. “I just might. Where’d you get it?” he asked, as if he hadn’t watched Livan deliver it to her from the corner of his eye.

Ginny pointed straight at the smirking, dimpled Cuban sitting across from them as if she didn’t know exactly how full of shit Mike was.

Livan just raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Mike stared back impassively. But when Ginny was within seconds of huffing and leaving them to their alpha male nonsense, he caved, earning her proud grin.

“Where’d you find the sopes? I’ve played here for years and none of the stadium food is that good.”

“There’s a food truck that parks outside most days. Some of the best latin food I’ve had in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded slowly, a grin spreading out beneath his beard, “but they’d be even better with some cilantro.”

Livan laughed at that. His real laugh, bright enough to surprise a chuckle out of their bearded captain. “That’s what I keep telling her!”

“You two are wrong and gross and wrong!” Ginny exclaimed, hugging the boat to her chest like they could contaminate her food just by talking about the disgusting thing.

Mike and Livan, though, just kept laughing at her.

“I changed my mind! Go back to being pissy with each other,” she pouted.

Secretly, she was entirely too pleased with herself.

In spurts and stops, Mike and Livan stopped acting like they were in a pissing contest and started doing a pretty good impression of teammates. Not friends, necessarily, but something close enough.

Close enough that Ginny stopped feeling like the subject of a custody agreement between two bickering divorcés.

Her meddling paid off on the field, too. Mike couldn’t catch every game, much as he wanted to. And while he was no more graceful about sitting out or playing first than he’d been last season, most of his complaints were cut off at the knees when it became clear Livan had turned over a new leaf.

It had been his own raw talent that eventually got him out of Cuba in spite of his parents’ political imprisonment and his own failed defections. Now that he was out, though, baseball wasn’t just a vehicle for his freedom. He had to play with and for his team, which meant making a few adjustments to his style.

Or, Ginny’s many heavy-handed hints over the course of the off-season had finally sunk through the thick, protective layer of his ego.

Either way, the bullpen was more than happy to have another catcher to do advanced prep with. And while Mike would never admit it, Ginny knew it had to help, having someone to share the load.

More than once, Ginny walked into the clubhouse to find Mike and Livan sitting side beside, flipping through heat maps and scouting reports as they compared notes. Mike still rolled his eyes at Livan’s attitude, but it felt more fond than it had last season. And Livan’s needling wasn’t in search of Mike’s weaknesses to exploit, but spoke to a much friendlier rivalry.

All without her interference.

It was something of a conundrum. As annoyed as she’d been by their constant sniping, Ginny had actually liked being the bridge between the two catchers. She liked coaxing them into acting like normal human beings with one another.

It was strange to realize they maybe didn’t need her anymore. Not off the field, at least.

But then, almost without fail, Mike and Livan would look up from their work and catch sight of her across the room. Their twin smiles—different but equally bright—soothed Ginny enough to make her drop her worries for the moment and make her way over to them.

Whether she perched on Livan’s armrest or leaned over Mike’s shoulder, it felt right. To be part of what was becoming a tight-knit group of her friends and teammates.

And that was all.

It didn’t matter how many long-suffering sighs Blip directed their way. Or how many times Ginny caught Al studying them with a furrowed brow. It didn’t matter how many times Evelyn waggled her eyebrows or made insinuations.

That was all she wanted from them.

Well, it was all she could have.

One of their last nights in Arizona, the Padres and the Marlins hit the town for one last hurrah in Peoria. A final farewell to their host city. Ginny didn’t think the townies could see the backs of them soon enough. Not that that kept her from cutting loose.

Early into the evening, someone hijacked the jukebox, playing a string of country western. There was plenty of grumbling to begin with, but the baseball players eventually leaned into it, clearing a space on the floor for an honest to God hoedown.

Too many drinks later, and Ginny was laughing breathlessly as she watched her teammates and opponents struggle to keep up with the locals.

One of the Marlins that Ginny vaguely remembered from the minors pulled her out onto the floor. Having spent two seasons in Texas, Ginny knew all about line dancing, though she hadn’t had much chance to show off lately.

She’d learned to stop trying to get Mike to dance with her, though when she glanced over at where he was sitting with Blip, he was watching her with great amusement. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and his head tipped back in a laugh she couldn’t hear over the ruckus, but knew well enough to hear echoing in her head.

Livan was another story, though. He was almost always good for a dance or two when they went out after games, and Ginny wanted to watch the normally smooth catcher try his hand at this.

When her eyes sought him out, though, he was leaned up against the bar, chatting… intimately with a townie in cutoffs and cowboy boots. His dimples were on full display, flanking that dangerous smirk of his. The target of that smirk sidled right up to him, her fingers curling around his belt loops as she nodded towards the door in invitation. Livan’s mouth quirked and he followed her out without looking back.

It shouldn’t have felt like such a shock.

Livan was single. Hell, Ginny even knew that he’d hooked up with people since getting to Arizona, but she’d never actually seen evidence of it.

Why had it been okay in the abstract but felt like a punch to the gut, now?

(Inexplicably, her mind supplied a similar image of Mike leaving with another woman, too. He wasn’t and hadn’t as far as she knew, but it wasn’t as if there was anything stopping him. In spite of what the roiling in her stomach might wish

This was so very, very bad.)

Plastering a smile to her face, she tripped over to the bar, the end that hadn’t just propped up her friend and his latest conquest. The bartender poured her another gin and tonic and it took all of Ginny’s self-restraint not to toss it back in one gulp.

“You doin’ all right?” came the concerned question from maybe the one person that Ginny wouldn’t clock just for asking.

She waited for a moment before turning to Blip. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Maybe because your boyfriend just left here with his hands practically down another woman’s pants?”

“What!” Ginny sputtered, wishing she’d waited to take another sip. The burn of gin in her sinuses was a distraction she couldn’t really afford around Blip when he was playing detective. Maybe if she’d been prepared, what came next would’ve been less incriminating. “Livan’s not— We’re not— It’s none of my business who he leaves with! Not that I even noticed him leaving! Who are we talking about?”

Blip just stared down at her pityingly, which did not help with Ginny’s urge to take herself out to the desert and start digging her own grave.

Finally, he replied, “Well, your other boyfriend sent me over here to make sure you’re okay.”

Without her permission, Ginny’s eyes tracked over to Mike Lawson, who very pointedly was not looking her way. Apparently, that was answer enough for Blip.

He snorted and shook his head slowly, clearly trying to gather the strength to deal with this. Ginny could sympathize.

“You need to figure this out, Ginny,” he warned, leaning both his arms on the bar and staring her dead in the eye.

A burble of panicked laughter burst off her tongue. “You think I don’t know that?” She fought the urge to collapse face first next to her drink and hide under her arms. But she was a grown up. And the persistent stickiness of the surface did not fill her with confidence. Ginny settled for running a hand through her hair. “But it’s so freaking complicated and it’s not as if there’s some sort of blueprint for dealing with—”

Blip continued to eye her, a little uncomfortable but mostly unfazed. Ginny had to wonder how much he’d figured out for himself and how much he was getting from Mike.

God, Mike! What did he think was going on here? How hadn’t he run for the hills?

Unless, maybe—

Maybe he was as conflicted as Ginny. For nearly the same reasons as she was. Or at least reasons involving all the same people.

It seemed so unlikely, so improbable. But maybe it was true anyway.

Tucking that thought away for later, Ginny looked back at Blip. “It doesn’t feel like there’s a way out of this without someone getting hurt.”

He nodded his agreement. “There might not be. But I know that you’ll do what’s right and you’ll have my complete support. Whatever it is.”

Seriously, how did Blip always know? Flushing a little, Ginny nodded.

Wisdom imparted, he straightened and knocked her with his elbow. “Now come back over to the table and convince Mike he doesn’t need to knock his backup’s teeth in in the morning.”

It wasn’t strange that Livan walked her to her door. In fact, it happened more often than not after team outings.

The first time it’d happened, Ginny’d tried to shoo him away to his room around the corner.

He’d acted scandalized. “Do you know what my abuela would do to me if she discovered I didn’t make sure you arrived home safely? She would single-handedly find a way out of Cuba just so she could scold me.”

Laughing, Ginny’d looked up and down their abandoned hallway. “I think she might forgive you just this once,” she teased

“You do not know my abuela, Ginny,” he’d groaned theatrically, just making her laugh harder. She hadn’t even questioned it when he followed her into her room, immediately going to her kitchenette and raiding the snack cupboard.

It’d become something of a tradition.

This, though, felt different.

Maybe because Ginny’d decided to stop pretending she didn’t have feelings for her catcher. Either of them.

She’d decided that waiting, playing it safe, wasn’t worth the gut-wrenching ache of having to watch someone else make them happy. Not when she could be doing it herself. Not when they could make her happy, too. It wasn’t that she wasn’t afraid of the consequences if everything went wrong, but Ginny was more afraid of never finding out what everything going right might be like.

As she’d been all night, she was utterly aware of how much space separated her and Livan. It was less strange in her empty suite than it had been in the crowded club, but here, Ginny didn’t have to worry about someone else taking him home.

She was honest enough to admit that that was what had finally pushed her into acting on her resolution, pulling his attention away from the very interested brunette at the bar and staying in his orbit all night. And now he was sitting on the couch of her suite, an exact copy of the one in his own room.

He was right there and Ginny was chickening out.

“You were all hands tonight, mami,” he commented, arching a sculpted brow at her. She flushed a little at having been so obvious, but it wasn’t as if Livan seemed to mind. “Keyed up from the win?”

“Something like that,” she replied, fidgeting, wondering if she was really gonna do this. She couldn’t do this.

His smirk turned a little softer, more affectionate than she saw him with almost anyone else.

Fuck it, Ginny thought, banishing her worries and climbing into his lap. She was still a little tipsy, but remarkably clear-headed. Definitely clear-headed enough to note Livan’s groan of appreciation as her ass settled on his thighs. One of her hands smoothed its way up his broad chest to curl around his neck, thumb tapping gently against a straining tendon.

Appreciation aside, he held himself stiff. “You sure I’m the one you want to celebrate with?”

Ginny hummed, dipping her head to taste that tendon her thumb had found. Livan wasn’t done, though.

“I’m not sitting behind Mike Lawson,” he warned, freezing her in place. Slowly, she rocked away from him, staring wide eyed. He gazed back, jaw set.

“What about next to him?”

Ginny would never be able to say what made those words come out of her mouth, but the second she did, she couldn’t deny that was exactly what she wanted.

Livan reared back, surprise and interest warring on his face. In a blink, they were gone, shuttered away. “What are you talking about?”

“I see the way you look at him,” she breathed, hands coming up to cradle his clenched jaw. As her fingers stroked over the stubble there, he relaxed, but his expression remained guarded. “When you think no one’s watching, you stare and stare, like you can’t get enough. It’s the way I—”

She cut herself off, but Livan finished for her, “Look at him?”

Ginny nodded, eyes wide.

“And what about the way you look at me?” he asked, his hands finally moving from her waist. They curled around her back and slid down her spine, slow and inevitable, to the curve of her ass. His strong fingers dug into her flesh and Ginny was torn between gasping and groaning. She bit her lip instead, sure that her pupils were blown wide, but taking comfort in the fact that Livan’s were, too.

“How do you think I know you’re looking at Mike so often?” she managed. The words were coy, but the tone was decidedly… not. They were heavy with meaning and more than a little desire.

He smirked. “That mean you haven’t caught me looking at you, mami?”

Ginny sidled closer, a slim hand slipping between his thighs. Rubbing against the evidence of his interest, she smirked back at him. “Don’t think I need to catch you looking, papi,” she breathed.

“Don’t start something you’re not looking to finish,” he groaned, his head tipping back to thud against the wall.

“I never do,” she purred right in his ear. Then, she bent and her teeth scraped against the tendon standing out starkly on his neck.

Reluctantly, one of his hands pulled away from her ass and came up to grip her chin. He tilted her face to his, warned, “We’re not done talking about Lawson,” and finally slanted his lips over hers.

The eager sound she made probably signaled her agreement, but Livan had more immediate matters to attend to.

If Ginny had known how easy it was to get Livan on board with dating her and Mike, together, she maybe wouldn’t have waited so long to make her move.

It wasn’t that they made much progress in figuring out how to approach their captain, but it was nice to have someone to commiserate with. Someone who could understand how stressful this all was.

(The other benefits were a nice bonus. Well, Ginny liked imagining that they would be.

After that first night, they both agreed to wait before falling back into bed. Well, Ginny decided and Livan went along with it.

She just wanted everyone to be on a level playing field when they finally got everything figured out.

Whenever that would be.)

“We need a plan,” she groaned, flopping back to the ground, her feet firmly in Livan’s lap where he sat on his couch.

He laughed, a thumb digging into the arch of her foot. Ginny’s toes curled and she groaned again, though this time for a better reason. “You might be overthinking this, jeva,” he replied and a thrill ran through Ginny. That wasn’t the first time he’d called her that, girlfriend, but it was the first time since he’d told her what it meant.

Still, she didn’t have time for the butterflies in her stomach. They needed a plan.

She leveled him with a fond, if exasperated, stare. “If you’re not going to help, I don’t have to be here.” His fingers tightened on her foot. Smugly, she raised an eyebrow and said, “That’s what I thought.”

Livan rolled his eyes, but went back to her foot rub. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. It’s not like I have any more experience in this than you do.”

“At least you’ve had a threesome before.”

He smirked down at her, too smug for his own good.

For her own good too.

(Ginny’d never thought smugness would be such a thing for here, yet here she was, stuck on two of the most self-important men she’d ever met.)

“Then again, so has Lawson if the rumors are true,” she mused teasingly, watching the smirk drop from Livan’s face.

His eyes narrowed at her obvious delight, fingers brushing light as feathers over the sole of her feet. Ginny twisted, giggling, and Livan doubled down, tickling until she was breathless.

Once he was sure she was appropriately repentant, he replied, “Yes, but you came to me first.”

“Only because I knew how easy you’d be to get bed,” she muttered mulishly. It was going to take a while for her to forgive the tickle attack.

Livan snorted. At least he didn’t believe her. “Like Lawson wouldn’t jump at the chance to get you in bed.”

Ginny didn’t dignify that with a response.

The problem wasn’t getting anyone into bed. Obviously. The problem was getting them all in it together.

And if there was any hope of that happening, they really needed to get a better read on Mike.

“Nos pillamos, Lawson.”

Mike frowned, but raised his hand in farewell anyway.

As Ginny and Livan left the clubhouse, she elbowed him. “You know his Spanish isn’t that good, right?”

Livan shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be. It’s all in the delivery.”

Rolling her eyes, she replied, “If you’re not going to try, then there’s no point in doing this. You can’t rely on charming your way into his pants.”

“Why not?” he smirked. “It worked on you.”

Torn between thumping him in the chest and giggling, Ginny settled for rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious. If we’re not all on board, this could really mess with team dynamics and I’m still not sure that this will even work and—”

“Respira mami,” Livan soothed. Ginny sucked in a deep breath, suddenly aware of how close she’d been to devolving into a panic attack. “Let me handle the first move, okay?”

Gratefully, she nodded.

That feeling lasted approximately 72 hours.

“Movie night?” she hissed, gathering an armful of snacks from her kitchenette to dump on the coffee table.

Livan shrugged. “At least he went for it.”

He had her there. In fact, it had been a ploy practically designed for Mike Lawson. When their captain found out that his two non-rookies had never seen Pride of the Yankees or Bang the Drum Slowly or Major League, he’d insisted on overseeing their pop culture educations.

Ginny took comfort in the fact that it was such a thin excuse. If Mike didn’t want to spend time with them, it would’ve been easy for him to blow this off.

Still, it was pretty hard to figure Mike out if they were all supposed to be sitting in the dark staring at a screen.

“Think of it as a long game, Ginny,” Livan suggested. “This is just the first inning.”

Weirdly, that helped.

Feeling Mike out and how he might feel about dating two people at once became less nerve wracking when it was a game of give and take.

The longest game of baseball in her life.

First, he’d come over and feel affectionately superior as he showed Ginny and Livan the classics of baseball cinema, which of course took more than one night. Soon, it became something of a standing date, Ginny curled on the couch between her two guys, even if one of them didn’t quite know it yet.

Then, movies turned into cooking lessons at Casa Lawson when Ginny horrified both men with her utter lack of culinary abilities.

Which was fine since she put both of them to shame on the driving range and putting green.

They were a natural set when Voorhies insisted on taking the team to a local Trivia Night. They didn’t actually do that well, too busy bickering over answers to actually write anything down, but Ginny couldn’t remember laughing so hard in a long time. And the fond glances Mike sent both her and Livan were much better than the dinky trophy Blip, Sonny, and Butch ended up winning.

Still, Ginny couldn’t help but try and push the pace along sometimes.

What? That whole “Patience is a virtue” thing was definitely overrated.

Mike’s deep laugh rumbled over the phone line and Ginny smile automatically in response. She snuggled into bed, feeling cocooned by her pillows and his soothing voice in her ear.

“I’m serious!” she replied. “Back in the minors, I played with at least three guys who swore by it!”

“Thongs?” Mike laughed again.

“They said it made them run faster.”

“Maybe so they could get them off quicker.”

There were lots of things Ginny wanted to say to that. “Don’t knock ‘em ‘til you try ‘em,” or something about how she couldn’t wait to get hers off, either, but she bit her tongue. Much as she wanted to hear the lick of desire in Mike’s voice when he managed to reply, she had other information she needed from him tonight.

“Don’t be jealous that they were so secure in their masculinity.”

“Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“Well, why else were these guys telling you about their underwear if not to impress you with their oh so enlightened ways?”

Ginny practically cackled at that. “I promise you, they were not trying to impress me. I just heard about it second hand.”

Mike harrumphed doubtfully and Ginny’s laughter softened into a giggle.

“Is that what you think being secure in your masculinity is? Wearing women’s underwear?”

“Isn’t it?” he joked. “Isn’t that what all those girly mags Javanes reads for waxing tips say?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not all they have to say on the subject.”

“Then enlighten me, Baker.”

“Well, what about finding other men handsome?”

“What about it?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m asking if you are secure enough in your masculinity to notice when other men are handsome, captain.”

She didn’t think she was imagining the slight catch in his breathing. Whether it was from the topic or the use of his title, though, she couldn’t say for sure.

“You know I think Leo has beautiful eyes,” he eventually hedged.

She hummed, thinking back to the conversation she’d had with Livan on this very topic. “So, you draw the line at admiring? Hypothetically, you wouldn’t do anything more?”

“Would you do ‘anything more’ with a woman?” he grouched, clearly out of his comfort zone.

“Yes,” Ginny replied, immediate. “And not just for attention.”

The silence on the line seemed charged with more than slight static.

“Huh,” Mike finally responded, a little choked off.

“You got your answer, now I want mine.”

Because they’d always been honest with each other during these phone calls—when they couldn’t be honest with one another, they just didn’t talk—Ginny didn’t bother to press him. Much as she wanted his reply, it didn’t mean much if Mike didn’t want to give it. Hard as it was, she would wait.

After a long moment, he sighed. “Maybe it’s not so hypothetical.”

Everything stopped as Ginny’s brain struggled to catch up.

That was unexpected. She didn’t know why, but she’d never paused to consider that maybe this wasn’t Mike’s first rodeo. Sure, sometimes he looked at Livan with an expression that was so similar to the way he looked at her, but she’d kind of assumed that attraction was theoretical. And sure, he’d been married and in the majors forever, but he still had a life before becoming San Diego’s hometown hero.

“Really?” she asked, trying to keep her tone curious rather than breathless.

Even over the cell connection, Ginny could practically hear his eyes rolling. “Shocked, Baker?”

Honesty. “A little. Not in a bad way, I just hadn’t thought about it before now.” Which was mostly the truth, so Ginny didn’t feel all that bad.

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she promised firmly. There was another long pause before Ginny said, “Thank you for telling me.”

“Back atcha, rookie.”

Of course, even metaphorical games of baseball had to come to an end. And Ginny knew how hard it was to keep it scoreless just to prolong the inevitable. Better to go out on terms that she liked.

If only her stomach had gotten the message.

“Oh! You’re here.”

Mike’s brow furrowed a little. “Am I not supposed to be? You invited me.”

Ginny shook herself, half hoping it would also shake loose her anxieties. She stepped back to let him in, apologizing.

“Sorry, I’m just a little scatterbrained today,” she lied. “Of course you should be here.”

“So, where are we in your pop culture education?” Mike asked, making himself at home on the couch. In his spot on the couch, in fact. It was funny how much better it looked with him sitting there.

“Huh?” she replied, eloquence personified when it became clear that Mike expected an answer beyond Ginny’s admiring stare.

“Movie night? I assumed that’s why you invited me over.” He looked around, a little dramatic, but grinning bright enough to ruin the effect. “Where’s Livan, anyway? Did you eat all the snacks again and send him out for more?”

“Oh, uh, no,” she replied, suddenly wishing she’d let Livan in on this particular conversation. But something felt right about it being just her and Mike to begin. She shook her head, sinking to the couch herself, a bit further away from him than she usually would. “I actually had something I wanted to ask you?”

Something like trepidation passed over his face, but he just nodded at her to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny began, “Mike, you’re one of my best friends. You’re my teammate and my captain and I know you’ve got my back no matter what, and I couldn’t possibly be more grateful. But things are— Well, they’re—” she sighed, frustrated with herself. “Why is this so hard?”

Mike’s eyes softened and he took one of her hands in his. “Ginny,” he said, so sweet and tender, she found herself swaying into him. Found herself imagining him reaching her conclusion all on his own and agreeing wholeheartedly.

Unfortunately, her imagination got ahead of her.

Because what Mike did say was this:

“If you’re trying to tell me you just want to be friends, don’t worry,” he sighed, defeated. “I’ve gotten the message.”

She was reeling. All she could manage was a startled, “What?”

He chuckled, a little sad. “C’mon. Only hanging out with me when Duarte’s around? Constantly bringing him up when we talk on the phone? The man’s a pretty effective cock block.”

“But—” Ginny floundered, wondering if she’d been projecting the whole time. Was this all just wishful thinking? “You have fun when we all hang out!”

“Of course, I do. You’re there.”

Ginny’s breath caught at that simple admission, but she couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“You like Livan, too, though, right?” Mike’s brow furrowed, like he hadn’t been expecting that. Which meant he was denser than Ginny’d thought or he was being purposefully obtuse. She had not been particularly subtle by the end.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, his ears warming to a dark pink.

“He’s maybe not as terrible as I originally thought,” Mike hedged, looking a little sheepish. “He has surprisingly good taste in movies and is always willing team up against you when you decide to hog all the food. Now and again he manages to make a few good jokes. And I’ll deny this if you tell anyone, but he probably won’t run the team into the ground when I eventually have to retire.”

High praise indeed.

Mike’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That you’d rather go out with him?”

“Mike—”

“I wouldn’t blame you. He’s younger and he does know you pretty well. If he lives up to his reputation, he’s probably a pretty good fu—”

“Stop,” Ginny commanded, pressing a finger to his lips to underline her order. Obediently, Mike stilled, looking down at her intensely. While she would’ve loved to discuss exactly how much Mike had been listening to the gossip about Livan’s abilities in bed, there were more important things at hand.

“I want you, Mike. I’ve wanted you for longer than I’ve even known you. If I could stop, I would. And believe me, I’ve tried. Not just because of the mess this could make but because you are awfully hard to deal with sometimes. Still,” she breathed, smiling up at him fondly, “as big of an asshole as you can be, I’m kind of stuck on you.”

Mike’s lips spread in a bright grin. In spite of the backhanded compliment—hey, she’d learned from the best. Gently, he reached up to lower her finger from where it still pressed against his mouth. After a long moment where he just stared at her in awe, he leaned in.

Much as Ginny wanted to let him kiss her, wanted to finally know what he tasted like, she couldn’t. Not without telling him everything.

She took a deep breath and continued, “But you’re right. I want Livan, too. And not just because I thought you were off the table. I think I’d want him anyway. Him and you. Together.“

Mike looked a little bewildered. And then angry. “What? You want me to be okay with you fucking us both?”

“What? No—”

“I’ve already tried out that kind of relationship, and it really didn’t turn out well for me. So forgive me if I’m not interested in giving it another shot.”

All at once, it came together. The real reason things hadn’t worked out with Rachel and why he’d been so reluctant to talk about it.

Her heart ached even as she burned to show Rachel Patrick exactly what kind of man she’d given up in Mike Lawson.

He stared down at her, indignation burning away in his eyes. When Ginny didn’t do anything but stare helplessly back, Mike huffed and stood to leave. Before he could take more than a step, though, Ginny was up twining her fingers into his. He stilled, tension still thrumming through him, but at least he didn’t jerk his hand from hers.

That was something, at least.

“Mike,” she breathed, tugging him back to her. Her thumb rubbed gently against his in apology. Of course, that wasn’t enough, so she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He sighed, but his jaw remained clenched, his whole body poised to go the moment she let him. “I know you didn’t. It’s not like I wanted it getting around.”

And it really hadn’t. When he and Rachel first separated, most of the press laid the blame solidly at his door. Though no one came out and accused Mike of infidelity, several came awfully close with their crude insinuations about his behavior afterwards. Ginny cringed to think that she hadn’t given those reports a second thought. She might not have believed them, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were true.

But Mike must have had a reason for keeping the truth to himself. So maybe he deserved a little honesty from her in return.

“You remember the guy my mom wanted to bring to the All Star Game last year?”

His brow furrowed, but he replied anyway, “Yeah. Why?”

“I walked in on them flirting, practically making out, in our kitchen when I was a kid. Way before my dad died.” Mike softened. Just an inch, but enough that some of the tension left his shoulders and he took a deep breath. “I know how awful it is, even if it’s never happened to me. I would never ask that of you. I would never do that to you or anyone else.”

He was impenetrable, jaw working side to side. Ginny was an expert at reading Mike Lawson, but she couldn’t get anything from him for a long moment.

Finally, though, he blinked. His question, when it came out was tired and quiet and Ginny felt her stomach sink. “Then what are you asking, Ginny?”

“This isn’t me trying to have my cake and eat it too,” she babbled, fighting against the sense that this was a losing battle. Trying to find the right combination of words that would get him to see her side. Get him to agree. “It’s me trying to figure out what will make me and the people important to me the happiest. Even if it’s in an unconventional way.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” he burst, shaking his head. “You’re gonna have to be clearer for me. Spell it out.”

“She’s talking about a threesome.”

Both Ginny and Mike whipped around to face the unexpected interloper.

Livan leaned casually against the door, eyes darting between Mike and Ginny. The spare key card that’d gone missing last week was still visible in his hand.

Irrationally, that was what Ginny latched on to.

“You stole my key!”

“I borrowed it in case of emergencies. And it was a good thing I did. You were losing him.”

“I was not!”

Mike made a noise in the back of his throat that wasn’t quite a dispute, but it was enough to make her flush in embarrassment. She sank to the couch and buried her face in her hands.

“I messed this all up,” she groaned pitifully.

The cushion next to her depressed, and Ginny somehow knew it was Livan sitting next to her. He rubbed soothing circles on her back. “You were doing fine. You were too inside your head.”

It wasn’t until Mike cleared his throat, though, that Ginny managed to lift her head.

“Please explain what the hell is going on.”

Livan rips off the bandaid. “Ginny thinks we should be a threesome.”

“You agreed!”

“A threesome?” Mike asked, looking no less confused, but at least a little intrigued now.

Silently, Ginny and Livan nodded.

Their captain regarded them for a long moment, before shaking his head. “A one time thing? I don’t think I can do anything like that with you just once.”

“No!” Ginny exclaimed, hope blooming for the first time of the evening. “Not just once! I want us all to date.” Mike stared blankly, his jaw going a little slack. Beside her, Livan chuckled a little, but turned it into a cough when she elbowed him.

“It could work and it makes sense! Rather than someone ending up the odd one out, we should all just date each other. I mean, I like the both of you, Livan likes you and me, you like me, and, I mean,” Ginny wanted to trail off, feeling so high school about all of this with all the likes she’d been throwing around, but forced herself to go on, “I thought you liked Livan—”

“I do,” Mike interrupted, ears going a little red.

“Really?”

“No need to sound so shocked, mamita. Everyone likes me.”

Ginny ignored him. “Then what’s the problem?” she demanded, looking hopefully up at Mike.

“It’s just”—he paused, scrubbing a hand over his face—“a lot to process.”

He did lower himself to the empty couch cushion to process, though. Ginny counted it as a win.

After a long silence in which Ginny wanted to crawl out of her skin rather than sit quietly for one more minute, Mike sighed.

“So you really think we should all just date each other? That’s the solution you’ve come up with?”

She nodded. “It’s this or at least one of us ends up feeling left out and the others feel guilty as hell. Not to mention how it all could end up spilling onto the field.”

“What’s to say it won’t affect the game anyway?”

“Maybe all those ice baths have kept you from noticing,” Livan drawled from Ginny’s other side, “but ever since we started trying to rope you in, the team has been working its way up the standings.”

Mike leaned around Ginny to glare half-heartedly at the other catcher, who just smirked in response. The glare shifted to a reluctantly fond smile and the smirk did the same.

Their captain’s attention flicked back to Ginny, studying her speculatively.

“C’mon, Mike,” she urged, sure that he was this close to agreeing. Her heart was beating a mile a minute. “You know all about teamwork. Who says we can’t make a team of our own?”

That earned a huff of laughter, one with no hint of doubt or annoyance.

He gave her one last searching look before asking, “You’re sure?”

Practically quaking in excitement, Ginny nodded. Mike’s attention shifted behind her, clearly looking to Livan, too, and Ginny could feel her chest filling up, fit to burst.

“All right,” he finally agreed, smile rounding his cheeks into boyish glee. “We’ll try it your way.”

Before the last word even left his tongue, Ginny was throwing herself into his arms, nearly squealing with delight. Mike didn’t even get a chance to hug her back before she was out of his arms and pouncing on Livan. Giddily, she bounced up, dragging both men with her as she danced around the suite.

Who cared about consequences? There’d be time to figure all that out. Later, though.

Ginny’d just won the longest game she’d ever played.

Both Livan and Mike chuckled at her antics, obligingly spinning her around a few times before the sheer joy of having this stressful period resolved—and resolved almost exactly the way she wanted it—gentled to a simmer.

When she finally calmed a bit, they were all standing in the open doorway to her suite’s bedroom.

Looking at the bed, which had always seemed more than spacious enough, Ginny’s head tilted to the side in consideration.

Livan voiced her concern: “Can that bed even fit all of us?”

“We’ll have to huddle.”

“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourselves?” Mike broke in, exasperated.

Ginny and Livan traded twin looks of confusion before turning in sync to their captain. A bark of surprised laughter burst out of him, but he still replied, “I haven’t even gotten a kiss yet.”

Okay, maybe they had gotten ahead of themselves.

Lightly, Livan propelled Ginny towards Mike. “Go on, jeva. You’ve been waiting longer.”

“I think I’m the one who should make the calls,” she shot back, still more than happy to step in close to Mike.

“I swear if either of you make a joke about pitchers and catchers,” Mike threatened even as he gathered Ginny in his arms. She wasn’t paying attention to how he finished that threat, too interested in the sudden closeness of her catcher. She might end up playing with Livan longer, but Ginny knew that Mike would always be her catcher.

Grinning brightly, her fingers curled around the shell of his ear and pulled him closer.

She was still smiling wide when her lips finally hit his. It faded, though, as she gave herself over to sensation. As Mike sighed and sidled into her, pressing their chests close.

Often as Ginny had imagined first kissing Mike Lawson, from her tame daydreams as a teenager to the decidedly riskier fantasies after she’d finally met him, this blew them all out of the water.

His strong arms banded around her back, cradling her gently against his broad frame. He practically oozed heat, warmth licking against Ginny’s skin. But maybe that had more to do with the way he’d already coaxed her mouth open, thoroughly exploring her lips and teeth and tongue with his own. And damn it, he was totally right about the beard. Feeling it brush up against her skin, Ginny just wanted to know what it would feel like elsewhere.

But it was knowing that Livan was at her back, his hands brushing against her hips and Mike’s forearms, that pushed this from good to amazing. The fact that they were in this together. And his chin was hooking over her shoulder, nuzzling into her neck and Mike’s jaw. All it would take was a simple tilt of his head and Mike’s lips would lock with Livan’s, Ginny cradled between them.

And then it happened and Ginny could hardly contain herself, she was so happy.

Her dreams had been good, yes.

But this?

This was so much better.

#Anonymous #Pitch fic #pitchfam #Ginny x Livan #Ginny x Livan x Mike #what are their ship names??#bawson's in there too #i wrote something #this got... out of hand #am i surprised?#no #should i be?#again no

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