(Untitled)

[haolehothead]

It's a goddamn beautiful day to play a little baseball. Danny's knee is decent, he's got the field in decent condition thanks to a lot of help from a lot of people, and everyone's on their best, what with all the practices they've been having. It's not about the winning, to Danny, though. It's just about getting to have some good times and hey, if

Comments

[haolehothead]

Danny's hair is a goddamn beautiful mess and it's all because of baseball. True to his promise to his dedication, he's wearing baseball pants, shoes, and even a jersey for the Yankees, because he has got pride, yes, he does. So he only won one game. It's not about that.

Well, correction, it's not all about that. Some of it is just about watching the great plays and the bad. The bad plays are occasionally one of the best parts, Danny admits it. And today, today's been good. It's been really good.

[curiously_cora]

"Who are the Yankees?" Coraline asked curiously, looking up for once at Danny. Sitting on the floor Coraline was rubbing her knee where it was bleeding. "Your pants are funny."

[haolehothead]

"The Yankees," Danny says patiently as he digs out some of the first aid kit materials he's brought with him, "are a first-class American sports-team who have a history of being the greatest ever," he crows with a proud smirk. "Hey, sit still, lemme clean that up."

[curiously_cora]

"They can't be the greatest ever because there are a lot of sports teams that are much better like the English football team or the Welsh rugby team." Coraline said, listening to Danny. Coraline pushed her leg out for Danny and made a happy face. "Guess what I did? I flew on a dragon and it was amazing."

[out_of_realm]

The smell of the dirt and the sweat and the familiar cheers and ref calls bring Tom back to Columbus, Ohio and twenty five years ago. It was like soda and PopRocks and trying to make it to first base, on the pitch and behind the dugout.

Tom grinned, sweat rolling down his temple and jogged off the field. Mike would have liked this. He could have thoughts now like that without the bottom of his stomach disappearing. It was bright and hot and he saw Neil laughing out of the corner of his eye, the girls playing tag with some other children.

Yeah. Baseball. He smiled. He remembered this.

[one__song]

It occurred to Roger every time he saw Tom that he'd spoked to him about twice. This seemed criminal in nature, especially because he got the impression that he and Dean had something of a relationship, and Roger thought he was on par with the two of them. Dean had the advantage, though, of not harboring some really fucked up, really inappropriate feelings for Neil. Coupled with his inherited social inability around strangers (something that wasn't a problem in his younger years), he was pretty sure he was about to shoot himself in the foot.

"Good game," Roger said as Tom passed by him. Roger's interest in sports amounted to exactly nothing, but baseball was easy enough to follow, especially with people he gave a shit about playing it.

[out_of_realm]

"Hey," Tom said, giving him a grin and shoving his hand back through his hair. "You guys played a good game."

He rocked back on his heels, rubbing a hand over his face. "I feel like I haven't seen you around in forever. Life's just crazy with the girls...how've you been?"

[one__song]

Roger laughed, sweeping a side-view of Neil and Dean celebrating or whatever they were doing. He didn't really have friends outside of the two of them, so being decidedly over here while they were over there was a little off-putting.

He soldiered forward.

"I'm okay," Roger said. It was the standard response that he gave people on the streets, especially people in group therapy. He was sure no one was surprised when that wasn't his strong suit. "Uh, how're you? I know we only see each other at like, functions but..." he trialed off. Exactly what was he trying to say.

"Uh, yeah, like I said: how're you?" He left it at that. The only thing he could do would be to look even more like an ass.

[sluttylyingliar]

This is so. completely. awesome.

Rachel's not playing because just, hell no. Dirt and broken nails isn't her thing. But there's something about baseball. Specifically, there's something about the view directly behind the batter's...place. Base. Whatever.

And her boyfriend? He looks damn fine swinging a bat. She cheers enthusiastically, eyeing Raylan and promising all sorts of things for a win. It's a good day.

[newkindofcop]

Steve's not playing either, as fate would have it.

Let's just say there was a small accident during practice, the details of which he won't go into because he knows Danny already feels incredibly guilty about it, but needless to say, his arm is in a sling as he steps up to join Rachel on the bleachers, offering her a slow smile.

"Nice day for a game."

[sluttylyingliar]

"Okay, if that arm is sex related I'm going to insist that you and Danny get some kind of sexy time referee," she snorts, patting the place next to her. "I am definitely happy to volunteer."

[newkindofcop]

Steve makes a face.

"Baseball-related," he assures her, taking a seat on the bleachers beside her and squinting out towards the field. "Tried a move sliding towards home plate and popped out my shoulder. Danny's been beating himself up about it."

[phoinikothrix]

Francis has been to a lot of baseball games--after so many boyhood summers in Boston, how could he not have been?--but these games might just have been the most entertaining he's ever seen. Never mind that he only vaguely recognized the vast majority of the players; never mind that he spent hours shouting himself hoarse sitting on rickety bleachers instead of the best seats his grandfather's money could buy; never mind that it's a baseball diamond on a strange island instead of the glorious red brick of Fenway Park. It's baseball, and Francis never realized how very much he missed it until today.

"Well, are congratulations or condolences in order?" he asked, turning with a grin to the person beside him, the Red Sox cap on his head comically at odds with the staid businesslike demeanor of his suit and tie. "Everyone played awfully well, don't you think?"

[off_the_ceiling]

"I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to say that the other guys sucked," said Jess, hoping she hadn't walked away from the game too dirty and sweaty for polite company, "but I guess I can admit that they got a few good hits in. Not enough to win the game, but a few."

[phoinikothrix]

"A highly diplomatic response," Francis replied, happy to see someone he recognized, but slightly mortified that it was someone intimately familiar with his disastrous activities on Mardi Gras. "It's good to see you again, Jess--it is Jess, right? At least this time, nothing's on fire."

[off_the_ceiling]

"Well, not yet," said Jess a little wickedly, "but the day is young, and I totally know where we can get shots." Though she was pretty sure the flaming drinks only came around once or twice a year. "Now you, I did not know you were such a baseball fan."

[frakkup]

Kara's keyed up, more than even she anticipated, and she's been looking forward to the game all week. What she hadn't expected was to feel like crying the instant she walked out on the field, surrounded by teammates that were almost exclusively new, to look out into the crowd and remember there wasn't anybody left to cheer her on.

Sharon's gone, and Cas, little Hera's not there passing cookies to Calliope when she thinks no one's looking. Buck's not there to slap her on the back, Winters isn't there to call them all to order when the ribbing gets too hot. Mamet's back home to shoot himself all over again, Mike's here and he's frakking dead.

She fights it all down, throws herself into the game with all the intensity she can muster, and that's all it is, a stupid game. It shouldn't matter so frakking much, but it does

[dumbassbastards]

Karen's old enough now that Rollie can safely leave her in the stands with Josie and not worry about the two of them as he heads down on to the field to see Kara.

"Good game," he says. "You hit the hell out of that ball. Karen was impressed. Josie might've been too but we're not communicating too well yet."

[frakkup]

It takes her longer than she'd like to gentle her expression, to not pick her glove back up and demand that Rollie best her in a game of fastball catch right frakking now, but she manages.

"Yeah?" she asks, pulling sweaty hair back from her face. "How long 'til we get her out here on the field?"

[dumbassbastards]

"Any moment now," he says, giving her a suspicious look back over his shoulder. Getting older doesn't seem to be making a dent in Karen's unpredictability. "She may wait till Josie can toddle a little better, hard to say. Might be harder to get me out here, I'm so damn rusty." He's in good shape, though; his island activities make sure of that.