(no subject)
Title: The First Time
Fandom: RPS; MLB; St. Louis Cardinals
Pairing: Adam Wainwright/Chris Carpenter
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of sex and some disagreeable language
Disclaimer: Not true. No ownership to be spoken of. No money made. No harm meant.
A/N: For the sslyricwheel challenge. The lyrics to "August in Bethany" by Juliana Theory were given to me by wrennette. This is also doubling as a baseball100 prompt. Ends.
x-posted to baseball_slash, sports_slash, sslyricwheel, and theboysofsummer.
The first time had been nothing to write home about. It had sort of started out as joke. Enough of a joke that neither one of them felt like they had any obligation to make a thing out of it.
Adam had walked over, perhaps out of some sense of obligation, he could never be sure. He tried hard not to smile. “I heard everything you touches turns to gold. Will you touch me?’
Chris laughed, but when he saw that Adam wasn’t laughing, his grin turned downward, creating tiny little furrowed wrinkles. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”
Adam picked up his glove and tossed it up in the air nervously. “Do you want me to be serious?”
Chris picked some stray pieces of grass off of his cap, squinting up into the sunlight. “I don’t know. Maybe not seriously serious, but sort of serious?”
Adam pulled his cap down, casting his face half in shadow so Chris couldn’t see the beginnings of the smile. “Okay. Then I’m not seriously serious, but sort of serious.”
Chris turned to him for the first time, letting a fly ball drop right behind him to yells of his fellow pitchers-cum-outfielders. “Do you want the key to my room?”
Adam tried hard to ignore the pressure of his stare, the severity. He had forgotten how serious things could be. In all his fantasies about this conversation with Chris Carpenter, he had reverted back to his high school days where nothing had any weight and nothing had any consequences and nothing ever felt real because you knew it would end when your four years was up. “Uh… Yeah.”
Chris squinted at the batter who was sending another missile their way. He made no effort to get it, even as it rolled all the way up to his feet. “ It’s in my stuff. When we run back in, I’ll give it to you.”
Adam pulled his cap down again, his smile so wide he could feel his cheeks getting hot. “Yeah, okay.”
And that was how it started. Well, not how it all started. It all started when Adam got traded away from the Braves for J.D. Drew, who didn’t even have the decency to stay longer than a year, and Chris saw him, just a kid of 21, newly engaged, with the deepest frown on his face. He put an arm around him, possiblely only because Adam was sitting down, and said, “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t want to be here either.” And disappeared. Like that was all that needed to be said.
And that’s when it all started, all of the time spent with a tired left wrist because he couldn’t get the image of Chris Carpenter in a towel out of his head, even when Spring Training was long gone and a whole season in the minors until he saw him again. He couldn’t very well wear out his pitching arm (he got really good at masturbating with his left hand). All of the time spent avoiding Chris when he did get called up because he was too shy to actually say anything, all of the time spent trying to convince himself he didn’t feel that way, had never felt that way, could never feel that way, all the time spent mimicking him to be a better pitcher.
But that was how they started. When batting practice was over, they ducked down to the clubhouse and Chris handed him the inconspicuous little card key. Adam hadn’t thought to ask why he had been carrying around the extra key with all the stuff he needed for the park that day, but it didn’t matter that much. He tucked it into his stuff, the stuff he would be taking back to the hotel that night, and sat in the bullpen the whole night, what felt like miles away from Carpenter.
He hadn’t been nervous until Chris’s hand made it all the way down his waistband, his fingers sort of cold and overeager. He just let his head loll back and the jumbled nerves tangle up in the pit of his stomach. After all, being nervous had always had a way of making him harder.
It had been fast. It hadn’t hurt as much as he expected, maybe because Chris was so terrified he would break in half. It wasn’t everything he expected, especially since Chris basically kicked him out afterwards, but it wasn’t as bad as some of the high school fiascos.
When he was back in his hotel room, he stopped himself from overly romanticizing the whole thing, but it was hard. He’d wanted Chris Carpenter since February 14, 2003. It was May 24, 2006.
*-*-*-*-*
The first time Chris left sucked.
He ran his fingers through Chris’s hair, trying not to stare at him too hard. Chris’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed the way it always was when a headache started to crawl in post-game.
“Don’t go,” Adam said quietly, more to himself than to Chris. “You said you wouldn’t.”
Chris stirred slightly, shifting against Adam’s side. “You know I can’t stay, Adam.”
Adam chewed on his lip, brushing Chris’s hair off of his forehead. “Just for tonight.”
Chris opened his eyes, slowly, as if the weight of his eyelashes was too much for him to bear. “Don’t do this.”
Adam sighed, letting his hand fall in the space next to Chris’s head. His arm was starting to go numb, but he’d almost give it up if Chris would actually stay the whole night. “What? What do you want me to do, Chris? Pretend that it doesn’t matter?”
“No,” Chris said, closing his eyes again and relaxing into Adam’s side, freeing up some of Adam’s arm so the feeling could return. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Fine.” Adam wedged his arm out from under Chris, resting it on his own chest instead. “It doesn’t matter to me. Go. Come back for an hour or two. Then go again. Really, it’s a very healthy and adult relationship.”
“Fuck you. I told you, I can’t… A relationship…”
“Is out of the question for a married man, I know, I know. Whatever. Wrong word choice.”
Chris untangled himself from the covers and sat up, buttoning his pants. “Wrong conversation choice. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Adam turned on the lamp next to the bed, more to avoid watching Chris leave than an actual desire to have the light on. “What if one of these days I just don’t let you in?”
Chris pulled his frayed sweatshirt on and got on his hands and knees to hunt for his shoes. “You know what? What if I just decide you’re not worth it? You ever think of that, Adam? Hm? Fuck this.”
“Chris-“
“No.” He’d found his shoes and laced them quick than Adam would have thought possible. “Fuck you. You want a ‘relationship,’ find yourself a fag. Have fun on the flight back to St. Louis.”
He slammed the door. Adam turned out the little lamp and slammed his head against the pillow. If he had made a mistake, he couldn’t find the will to regret it. That’s why he doubted he was making a mistake.
*-*-*-*-*
The first time Chris got hurt was awesome.
Obviously from a team stand point, it was a huge blow, but Adam was selfish. Instead of running to Alyson, he ran to Adam. The days and nights ran into each other and their inseperability meant more to Adam than Chris’s health. He turned a blind eye to Chris’s increasing despondentness and the Titanic feeling that hung around them.
“Adam,” Chris said quietly, watching the city pass by out the passenger window. “What are we doing?”
Adam took a left turn on a red light because no one else was on the road anymore. “I don’t know. You’re the one who always insisted we weren’t doing anything at all.”
“Yeah, I know, but it feels different now. Now that I’m hurt.”
“Oh, yeah?” Adam suppressed a smile, but it hardly mattered. Chris wasn’t even looking at him “Why’s that?”
“I guess I just… I just started thinking about what’s really important to me and you’re… You’re important. To me.”
Adam smiled when he drove through the tunnel, his face only illuminated briefly by the tiny stripes of light. “Well, uh, thanks.”
Adam somewhat maliciously wished Chris Carpenter would never get better.
*-*-*-*-*
The first time Chris took the mound after Tommy John surgery was hell. Adam sat inbetween Braden Looper and Todd Wellemeyer and he was furious enough to kill. Talking about Carpenter like he was the goddamn second coming.
“I think even if he gave up 100 runs tonight, we’d find a way to win.”
“Oh, hell yeah. Nothing could kill the buzz in this town. He’s a god.”
“Better than an ace. His worst stuff is the goddamn best stuff on the team.”
Adam moved. He paced. He broke a bat. On the night of Chris Carpenter’s return, however, no one cared. He could have set the dugout on fire and only when the flames were crawling up their ankles would any of his teammates notice.
All it took was Chris’s return. That’s all it took.
*-*-*-*-*
The first time Adam walked out was the last time either of them walked out. Or in.
Chris kissed him when he walked in the door, his hands already starting to crawl under his t-shirt like that’s where they belonged. Adam tried to fend him off, but Chris was persistent- grabby- a bubbling laugh beneath every batted away hand and shove Adam gave him.
“Adam, come on, what’s your problem?”
“Not in the mood.”
“Then why are you here?”
Adam didn’t mean to give him the death look, but Chris had it coming. “So we’re just sex buddies again.”
“No, but I… You said… Look, I’m sorry, Adam, okay? I’m just… wired. Sitting on my ass all night, watching you, neither one of us doing anything, it was hard to con-“
“Yeah, okay. I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Being hurt.”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“You’re hurt a lot. I thought you would have some… advice or something.”
“No. I haven’t got any. It’s as hard the first time as it the current time. It’s never… easy.”
“People leave hurt baseball players.”
“You’re wife ain’t leaving you. Jenny loves you.”
“I’m not worried about Jenny.”
“Me and Alyson are fine.”
“I’m not worried about Alyson.”
“Then what are you… Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you should go.”
“I think… I think I probably should.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I… I can’t… I can’t do this.”
“When I said that to you, you nearly killed me.”
“Now I could nearly kill myself, all right? Is it even? I just… I can’t. I can’t.”
“There has to be something wrong.”
“No. Nothing.” Yes, everything.
“Adam-“
“I have to go. Baylie needs me.”
“Yeah, okay. Call me.”
“I don’t… I don’t think so.”
And that was the first time.
*-*-*-*-*
Fandom: RPS; MLB; St. Louis Cardinals
Pairing: Adam Wainwright/Chris Carpenter
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of sex and some disagreeable language
Disclaimer: Not true. No ownership to be spoken of. No money made. No harm meant.
A/N: For the sslyricwheel challenge. The lyrics to "August in Bethany" by Juliana Theory were given to me by wrennette. This is also doubling as a baseball100 prompt. Ends.
x-posted to baseball_slash, sports_slash, sslyricwheel, and theboysofsummer.
The first time had been nothing to write home about. It had sort of started out as joke. Enough of a joke that neither one of them felt like they had any obligation to make a thing out of it.
Adam had walked over, perhaps out of some sense of obligation, he could never be sure. He tried hard not to smile. “I heard everything you touches turns to gold. Will you touch me?’
Chris laughed, but when he saw that Adam wasn’t laughing, his grin turned downward, creating tiny little furrowed wrinkles. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”
Adam picked up his glove and tossed it up in the air nervously. “Do you want me to be serious?”
Chris picked some stray pieces of grass off of his cap, squinting up into the sunlight. “I don’t know. Maybe not seriously serious, but sort of serious?”
Adam pulled his cap down, casting his face half in shadow so Chris couldn’t see the beginnings of the smile. “Okay. Then I’m not seriously serious, but sort of serious.”
Chris turned to him for the first time, letting a fly ball drop right behind him to yells of his fellow pitchers-cum-outfielders. “Do you want the key to my room?”
Adam tried hard to ignore the pressure of his stare, the severity. He had forgotten how serious things could be. In all his fantasies about this conversation with Chris Carpenter, he had reverted back to his high school days where nothing had any weight and nothing had any consequences and nothing ever felt real because you knew it would end when your four years was up. “Uh… Yeah.”
Chris squinted at the batter who was sending another missile their way. He made no effort to get it, even as it rolled all the way up to his feet. “ It’s in my stuff. When we run back in, I’ll give it to you.”
Adam pulled his cap down again, his smile so wide he could feel his cheeks getting hot. “Yeah, okay.”
And that was how it started. Well, not how it all started. It all started when Adam got traded away from the Braves for J.D. Drew, who didn’t even have the decency to stay longer than a year, and Chris saw him, just a kid of 21, newly engaged, with the deepest frown on his face. He put an arm around him, possiblely only because Adam was sitting down, and said, “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t want to be here either.” And disappeared. Like that was all that needed to be said.
And that’s when it all started, all of the time spent with a tired left wrist because he couldn’t get the image of Chris Carpenter in a towel out of his head, even when Spring Training was long gone and a whole season in the minors until he saw him again. He couldn’t very well wear out his pitching arm (he got really good at masturbating with his left hand). All of the time spent avoiding Chris when he did get called up because he was too shy to actually say anything, all of the time spent trying to convince himself he didn’t feel that way, had never felt that way, could never feel that way, all the time spent mimicking him to be a better pitcher.
But that was how they started. When batting practice was over, they ducked down to the clubhouse and Chris handed him the inconspicuous little card key. Adam hadn’t thought to ask why he had been carrying around the extra key with all the stuff he needed for the park that day, but it didn’t matter that much. He tucked it into his stuff, the stuff he would be taking back to the hotel that night, and sat in the bullpen the whole night, what felt like miles away from Carpenter.
He hadn’t been nervous until Chris’s hand made it all the way down his waistband, his fingers sort of cold and overeager. He just let his head loll back and the jumbled nerves tangle up in the pit of his stomach. After all, being nervous had always had a way of making him harder.
It had been fast. It hadn’t hurt as much as he expected, maybe because Chris was so terrified he would break in half. It wasn’t everything he expected, especially since Chris basically kicked him out afterwards, but it wasn’t as bad as some of the high school fiascos.
When he was back in his hotel room, he stopped himself from overly romanticizing the whole thing, but it was hard. He’d wanted Chris Carpenter since February 14, 2003. It was May 24, 2006.
*-*-*-*-*
The first time Chris left sucked.
He ran his fingers through Chris’s hair, trying not to stare at him too hard. Chris’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed the way it always was when a headache started to crawl in post-game.
“Don’t go,” Adam said quietly, more to himself than to Chris. “You said you wouldn’t.”
Chris stirred slightly, shifting against Adam’s side. “You know I can’t stay, Adam.”
Adam chewed on his lip, brushing Chris’s hair off of his forehead. “Just for tonight.”
Chris opened his eyes, slowly, as if the weight of his eyelashes was too much for him to bear. “Don’t do this.”
Adam sighed, letting his hand fall in the space next to Chris’s head. His arm was starting to go numb, but he’d almost give it up if Chris would actually stay the whole night. “What? What do you want me to do, Chris? Pretend that it doesn’t matter?”
“No,” Chris said, closing his eyes again and relaxing into Adam’s side, freeing up some of Adam’s arm so the feeling could return. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Fine.” Adam wedged his arm out from under Chris, resting it on his own chest instead. “It doesn’t matter to me. Go. Come back for an hour or two. Then go again. Really, it’s a very healthy and adult relationship.”
“Fuck you. I told you, I can’t… A relationship…”
“Is out of the question for a married man, I know, I know. Whatever. Wrong word choice.”
Chris untangled himself from the covers and sat up, buttoning his pants. “Wrong conversation choice. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Adam turned on the lamp next to the bed, more to avoid watching Chris leave than an actual desire to have the light on. “What if one of these days I just don’t let you in?”
Chris pulled his frayed sweatshirt on and got on his hands and knees to hunt for his shoes. “You know what? What if I just decide you’re not worth it? You ever think of that, Adam? Hm? Fuck this.”
“Chris-“
“No.” He’d found his shoes and laced them quick than Adam would have thought possible. “Fuck you. You want a ‘relationship,’ find yourself a fag. Have fun on the flight back to St. Louis.”
He slammed the door. Adam turned out the little lamp and slammed his head against the pillow. If he had made a mistake, he couldn’t find the will to regret it. That’s why he doubted he was making a mistake.
*-*-*-*-*
The first time Chris got hurt was awesome.
Obviously from a team stand point, it was a huge blow, but Adam was selfish. Instead of running to Alyson, he ran to Adam. The days and nights ran into each other and their inseperability meant more to Adam than Chris’s health. He turned a blind eye to Chris’s increasing despondentness and the Titanic feeling that hung around them.
“Adam,” Chris said quietly, watching the city pass by out the passenger window. “What are we doing?”
Adam took a left turn on a red light because no one else was on the road anymore. “I don’t know. You’re the one who always insisted we weren’t doing anything at all.”
“Yeah, I know, but it feels different now. Now that I’m hurt.”
“Oh, yeah?” Adam suppressed a smile, but it hardly mattered. Chris wasn’t even looking at him “Why’s that?”
“I guess I just… I just started thinking about what’s really important to me and you’re… You’re important. To me.”
Adam smiled when he drove through the tunnel, his face only illuminated briefly by the tiny stripes of light. “Well, uh, thanks.”
Adam somewhat maliciously wished Chris Carpenter would never get better.
*-*-*-*-*
The first time Chris took the mound after Tommy John surgery was hell. Adam sat inbetween Braden Looper and Todd Wellemeyer and he was furious enough to kill. Talking about Carpenter like he was the goddamn second coming.
“I think even if he gave up 100 runs tonight, we’d find a way to win.”
“Oh, hell yeah. Nothing could kill the buzz in this town. He’s a god.”
“Better than an ace. His worst stuff is the goddamn best stuff on the team.”
Adam moved. He paced. He broke a bat. On the night of Chris Carpenter’s return, however, no one cared. He could have set the dugout on fire and only when the flames were crawling up their ankles would any of his teammates notice.
All it took was Chris’s return. That’s all it took.
*-*-*-*-*
The first time Adam walked out was the last time either of them walked out. Or in.
Chris kissed him when he walked in the door, his hands already starting to crawl under his t-shirt like that’s where they belonged. Adam tried to fend him off, but Chris was persistent- grabby- a bubbling laugh beneath every batted away hand and shove Adam gave him.
“Adam, come on, what’s your problem?”
“Not in the mood.”
“Then why are you here?”
Adam didn’t mean to give him the death look, but Chris had it coming. “So we’re just sex buddies again.”
“No, but I… You said… Look, I’m sorry, Adam, okay? I’m just… wired. Sitting on my ass all night, watching you, neither one of us doing anything, it was hard to con-“
“Yeah, okay. I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Being hurt.”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“You’re hurt a lot. I thought you would have some… advice or something.”
“No. I haven’t got any. It’s as hard the first time as it the current time. It’s never… easy.”
“People leave hurt baseball players.”
“You’re wife ain’t leaving you. Jenny loves you.”
“I’m not worried about Jenny.”
“Me and Alyson are fine.”
“I’m not worried about Alyson.”
“Then what are you… Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you should go.”
“I think… I think I probably should.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I… I can’t… I can’t do this.”
“When I said that to you, you nearly killed me.”
“Now I could nearly kill myself, all right? Is it even? I just… I can’t. I can’t.”
“There has to be something wrong.”
“No. Nothing.” Yes, everything.
“Adam-“
“I have to go. Baylie needs me.”
“Yeah, okay. Call me.”
“I don’t… I don’t think so.”
And that was the first time.
*-*-*-*-*