#keepherinthegame drabble – how old would you be if you couldn’t remember how old you are?

In honor of @pitchstreetteam‘s March #KeepHerIntheGame campaign and this post, here’s a little Pitch oneshot for the prompt Flashback.

There’re still five days to send in your baseballs! You can even send them straight to Fox from Amazon! For more details, check here!

---

Ginny’d always been grateful to have a December birthday. As a kid, it meant that Christmas was on its way along with winter break and no homework for two whole weeks. 

It also meant that she got a break from her training schedule. Much as she loved the game, even Ginny didn’t want to spend every waking hour thinking about it. Holidays and birthdays were some of the few breaks her pop allowed her from training. 

Which was why it felt so strange to be in the Petco Clubhouse, working up a sweat the day she turned 24.

This wasn’t the first time Ginny hadn’t gone home for her birthday and the holidays, but it was the first time she didn’t have games as an excuse. She did have her bum elbow, though, and the battery of people that tended to it. It wasn’t even a lie when she told her mom it would be too much of a hassle to arrange all the physical therapy appointments and training sessions and doctor’s visits around a trip home.

She’d thought it would be a weight off of her mind, not having to worry about being stuck in North Carolina with her mom and Will or, God forbid, Kevin. No dealing with her mother’s hovering or her brother’s cold shoulder. No rebuffing her mom’s boyfriend—ugh, the word made her cringe every time—either.

Just another quiet day in San Diego, celebrating her birthday the way she wanted to. It would feel nice. Relaxing, even.

Mostly, though, Ginny felt lonely. 

She’d woken up alone in her hotel room and ordered breakfast for one to eat by herself at the bar in her empty kitchenette. Not even the tv tuned to something nostalgic made her feel less lonely.

Watching the little, blue alien wreak havoc on the screen had dug up memories Ginny usually did her best not to think about. Which was why she’d fled into the familiar confines of Petco’s cardio suite. 

But even the burn in her lungs and the aching arches of her feet hadn’t been able to chase the hazy recollections from her brain. 

No, Ginny couldn’t help but remember sitting in the dark theater, watching it for the first time. The memory overlapped with reality, and even though her arms pumped in time to her feet pounding the treadmill, she would swear she was sitting all cozy in the Tarboro Discount Theater, her mom on one side of her, Will on the other, and her Pop sitting at the end, arms crossed over his chest. She could practically hear Will’s bursts of laughter even though he’d complained he was too old for such a baby movie all the way in. 

That year was no different from all the other times her Pop grudgingly agreed to take the family to the movies rather than the batting cages for her birthday. And even though he’d frown and grumble and try to get her to change her mind, he’d always buy a bucket of popcorn just for her. 

And every year, as he’d hand it over, his usually stoic face would crease in a smile. There was something so special about that smile. Even better than the break from practice or the whole tub of buttery popcorn, it was what Ginny looked forward to every year. 

Still smiling, he’d kiss her temple and whisper, “Happy birthday, little girl. One year closer.”

And she’d echo, “One year closer.”

Every year. Until she turned eighteen and there was no one there to whisper to her.

Ginny shook herself and bumped up the speed on her treadmill.

She was on mile eight of what was supposed to be a five mile jog, but as long as inconvenient memories were going to keep popping up, Ginny was going to keep trying to distract herself.

After all, what better way to deal with unwanted feelings and memories than running away from them?

“Baker, what’re you doing here?”

“What’s it look like, Skip?” she replied, throwing her manager a grin without breaking stride. 

Al was having none of it. “No, no! What’re you doing here today?”

“Where else am I supposed to be?”

“It’s your birthday, kid! You should be at home with your family or out having fun with the other young people.”

“Oh,” she replied, finally stepping onto the sides of the treadmill and watching the belt whir between her feet. “I, um. I didn’t realize you knew it was my birthday.”

Al rolled his eyes. “I know everything about everyone. It’s how I’ve kept this job so long.” Ginny laughed, just as he wanted her to. “In fact, there should be a gift waiting for you when you get back to the hotel.”

“Skip,” she protested, finally powering down the treadmill, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. I do it for all my guys. And girls, now,” he allowed, nodding to her as she stepped to the ground.

That got Ginny to grin. A real one, this time. “Well, thank you in advance,” she said, following him out of the cardio suite.

“Anytime, Baker,” Al smiled, fond. “Now, I don’t wanna hear about you overdoing it with your workouts, you hear me? I want your arm back in my rotation come next season.”

“Got it, Skip.” Ginny’s smile blew wide, bright enough to make Al duck his head bashfully and shoo her out of the clubhouse.

It didn’t matter that Al was basically kicking her out, Ginny knew he just did it because he worried. And while it was nice that he’d sent something over to her hotel room, Al’d just given her the one thing she’d wanted since she collapsed on the field in September.

Sure, Blip and Mike and some of the other guys assured her that she’d bounce back and that she shouldn’t worry about the 20+ other pitchers who’d show up at Spring Training. But they were her friends, it was their duty to cheer her up. 

But to hear Al say that he wanted her back? That was an unexpected sandbar where she could rest after months of just struggling to keep her head above water. 

It was a gift. 

And Ginny couldn’t imagine getting a better one this year.

#keepherinthegame drabble – need to dress accordingly

In honor of @pitchstreetteam‘s March #KeepHerIntheGame campaign and this post, here’s a little Pitch oneshot for the prompt Author’s Choice. 

There’re still seven days to send in your baseballs! You can even send them straight to Fox from Amazon! For more details, check here!

---

“Ginny, I swear to God, if you don’t get your cute butt out here in the next five seconds—”

“Stop using your mom voice on me, Ev,” Ginny called from the bathroom. “It’s weird.”

“Stop making me mother you!” she shot back. “This is supposed to be girls’ night, Ginny! For a few hours, I forget that I’ve got a husband and two seven-year-olds at home, I put on a pretty dress, I go to a bar, and someone buys me overpriced drinks. But I can only do that if you get your ass in gear.”

Finally stepping out of the bathroom, Ginny rolled her eyes. She’d waited until Evelyn could see, though it seemed she should have waited a moment longer. Her friend was sprawled on the couch, an arm flung theatrically across her face.

“You could definitely do all of that without me.”

“No, I couldn’t. If you’re not with me, I won’t have a convenient excuse to kick all the men who will undoubtedly flirt with me to the curb.”

Ginny laughed. “Your husband and kids aren’t reason enough?”

Evelyn moved her arm to glare, but shot upright instead. “Holy hell, Ginny,” she breathed. “Where did you get that?”

“This?” Ginny asked, self-consciously smoothing out the skirt of her dress. Not that there were any wrinkles in the loose, swinging fabric. The silk rubbed enticingly against Ginny’s legs and she remembered exactly why she’d bought it in the first place. She hadn’t really paid much attention to her reflection in the fitting room once she felt the sleek slide of fabric against her skin. “You told me to wear something that I like.”

“I know!” Evelyn grinned and eyed Ginny’s outfit appreciatively. “If I’d known that this is what you like, I would’ve stopped shopping for you years ago.”

“Like you would’ve given up control of my closet,” she teased, feeling better about the pale gold dress she’d just tied shut around her waist a few minutes ago. It hung from her shoulders on thin straps, making Ginny feel oddly exposed, though that could have more to do with the absence of the sling she’d been wearing since September. Having the use of two arms again was taking some getting used to, but Ginny was grateful.

Grateful enough to agree to girls night out without thinking it through.

It was Evelyn’s turn to roll her eyes, pushing to her feet. “I only needed to control your closet because I wasn’t aware you knew fabrics other than lycra and cotton existed.”

“This isn’t lycra?”

Evelyn swatted at Ginny with her clutch, pointing at the door.

“Out!” she ordered, only leaving her friend enough time to slip on a jacket and grab her purse.

---

They were onto their third venue of the night, Evelyn refusing to stay anywhere for more than two drinks. Ginny didn’t mind. That was usually about the time that anyone who’d caught wind of her whereabouts—thanks a lot, Twitter—showed up and started taking photos from a distance. Then, the distance would close and anything even resembling privacy was out the window.

She didn’t mind outrunning Ginnsanity, it’s just— Her feet were getting tired.

“Ev, can we please call it quits after this one?”

“Don’t wimp out on me, Ginny. This place is supposed to be amazing!”

“You’ve said that about the last two places!” she laughed, looking out the window as the car rolled to a stop.

“And they were! C’mon, don’t tell me that you wouldn’t have stayed at the first one for the bartender alone.”

Ginny smiled, but didn’t admit to Evelyn that while the bartender had been cute in a clean cut kind of way, her tastes were running distinctly more lumberjack these days.

“Besides, you need to get out there! You can’t keep putting off the rebound.”

“I don’t know if a handful of dates is something I need to rebound from.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes and opened the car door as Ginny checked in with the driver and arranged their pick up. When she joined her friend on the curb, she was treated to an imploring look.

“All right. Maybe you don’t need a rebound, but I need this night.” Evelyn grabbed Ginny’s hands and squeezed to punctuate her point. “God knows I love my boys—all of them—but I need a night where I’m not a cook or a chauffeur or a housekeeper or even a mom or a wife. Can you do this for me?”

Ginny sighed and squeezed back. “Anything for you, Ev.”

As expected, her friend squealed and danced a little in place. Evelyn’s excitement was infectious, and soon, Ginny joined in.

Before she knew it, they were skipping the (very long) line and strolling up to the (frankly enormous) bouncer. He eyed them a bit suspiciously for a minute before recognition sparked in his eyes.

Still, he examined both her and Evelyn’s IDs very carefully, before stamping their hands and waving them through. Just as they were about to step inside, though, he called them back. He blushed and said, “I don’t normally do this, but would you mind taking a picture? My kid is gonna lose her mind.”

That was easy enough to agree to, so Ginny smiled and nodded. Evelyn, far too used to this, took the man’s phone and snapped a few photos.

After nodding his satisfaction, the bouncer informed them, “Oh! You’ll find the rest of your group in the VIP lounge,” before turning to the next group of clubgoers.

Rest of their group?

Ginny and Evelyn traded confused looks, neither having any idea what the man was talking about.

---

“Nuh uh. No way!” protested Evelyn. “This is girls night. That means no boys and definitely no husbands.”

Apparently, the group the bouncer’d meant was the San Diego contingent of the Padres—the guys who didn’t leave town when the season ended. Ginny couldn’t blame the man for assuming that she’d shown up for a night out with her teammates, even with Evelyn at her side.

Or the server who’d caught sight of her and ushered her straight to the VIP area without question.

Upon brushing back the gauzy curtain that separated the Very Important from the rabble, Ginny was a little surprised that she hadn’t put it together herself. She hadn’t asked what Blip was up to tonight. If Ev was taking a girls night, it only made sense that Blip would hang with the boys.

A wave of startled recognition greeted both women.

From her place at the threshold, Ginny could see a good chunk of her teammates. Salvi and Sonny, Livan, Butch, and Hinkley, rounded out by Blip and Mike. Though Ginny had to try very hard not to stare in shock at that last Padre. She hadn’t realized he was even in town.

Trying to play it cool, she traded fist bumps and high fives with the guys, ignoring their jibes and trading insults. Meanwhile, Evelyn still gaped at the familiar faces. When her husband, leaving the conversation he’d been having with Mike in corner, started forward, that was when Evelyn made her stand.

“Aw, come on Evy,” coaxed Blip, sidling up to his wife with a smitten grin. He leaned down to murmur in her ear and Ginny watched as her friend slowly melted into her husband’s embrace.

Knowing when she wasn’t needed, Ginny went in search of a drink.

Mike fell into step beside her.

“Long time no see, captain,” Ginny said, flicking a look at him through her mascara-coated lashes.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. He had been mysteriously MIA for the past few weeks. About the same time that Ginny split up from Noah, actually. “Had some things to do in LA,” he replied, using his bulk to clear a path to the bar.

Right. LA. Where Rachel lived.

Ginny nodded, leaning both elbows against the bar to avoid looking at him.

“You, uh—” She could feel his body heat pressing in next to her as he swallowed and started again, “You clean up nice.”

Almost without her permission, Ginny’s head turned to look at him. Her chin tucked to her bare shoulder and peering up at Mike, whose gaze was trained on her hands, Ginny got the chance to study the man who took up too many of her thoughts as it was.

He looked unfairly good in a gray button up and jeans. His biceps bulged against the sleeve and Ginny was filled with the memory of those arms wrapped around her. Her heart started to pound.

This wasn’t really the time or place for that, so she replied, “I’d say the same, but it’s hard to tell under that thing you’ve let take over your face.”

Automatically, Mike’s hand came up to rub his beard. He glanced at her finally, eyes twinkling. “When are you gonna admit that you love the beard?”

“In your dreams, old man.”

Rather than roll his eyes and push the matter, Mike dropped his gaze back to the bar top, nodding slowly. The dark fan of his eyelashes against his cheek had Ginny’s breath catching in her chest. One of his hands fell to his side, just barely brushing against the skirt of her dress. Almost unconsciously, he fingered the fabric, sending shivers skating up her spine.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “that seems about right.”

Now, Ginny couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason. She stared and stared, trying to come up with a single reasonable thing to say when all she wanted to do was slide up to him and finally close the gap that’d opened between them that last night of August.

She finally managed a hoarse, “Mike—”

“C’mon man,” Blip interrupted. “Ev says if we’re going to be in the same club, we have to make ourselves scarce. Girls night has some strict rules.”

His voice was light, but Ginny knew what Blip looked like when he’d caught the scent of something. And maybe he wasn’t as outwardly tenacious as his wife, but she knew well enough that he wasn’t going to let this go. He’d bring it up when she least expected it, along with things she didn’t even realize he knew.

Mike, looking as wary as she felt, recovered first. “You married guys are all so whipped.”

Ginny’s head whipped up to him. Was that the business he’d taken care of in LA? Signing divorce papers?

He met her gaze, steady and intent, willing her to understand.

Ginny wasn’t sure that she did. Or if she did, but was too scared to admit it.

Finally, Mike sighed and shifted, ready to follow after Blip.

Before he could go, though, she grabbed his wrist, her thumb sliding under his cuff and against his warm skin. Ginny looked up at him, wide-eyed, unsure of what she was going to say until it came out of her mouth.

“Pick this up later?”

Mike’s eyes narrowed and she could tell he was tracking the words back to when he first said them to her. Back when she was still proving herself to the team. To him, even. Ginny braced herself for the echoed response.

It never came.

Instead, her captain and catcher, her friend and the man who featured all too often in her dreams, leaned in and murmured his answer in her ear. He pulled away, smirking a little, and left Ginny in her stupor.

Which was how Evelyn found her. It could have been minutes or hours or days for all Ginny was aware of her surroundings.

“Now that that’s settled,” her friend declared, scooting into the space Mike had just occupied and flagging down a bartender, “let’s get back to girl’s night!” She promptly ordered a round of shots.

When the drinks arrived, Ginny tossed hers back immediately. Normally, she’d want to keep her wits about her whenever Evelyn and a secret came into too close a proximity, but she really needed something to drive Mike’s low, “Count on it, Ginny,” as far from her thoughts as possible.

What better way than tequila shots?

At Evelyn’s incredulous look, Ginny took one last suck of her lime wedge and offered her friend a sheepish smile.

“To girls night?”

The calculating, excited expression that took over Evelyn’s face told Ginny she would’ve been better off saying nothing at all.

She was going to need so much more tequila to get through this.

mindykahling:

but I would give anything to have roots.

— drifting // e.s.

PITCH GIF MEME

5/6 Outfits Wardrobes: Ginny Baker (#TBT edition)

she just does it because she likes you

@monkshoodr: Mike makes a hilarious blooper at first base and Ginny won’t let him live it down

Listen, mike’s not the only one who can be juvenile. 

Read it on ao3

---

“That was number two on this week’s Not Top Ten, now let’s see number one.”

Ginny stifled a giggle, though she knew exactly what was coming next. She’d already watched the clip ten times. She could practically recite it word-for-word.

“Game two of the Padres-Diamondbacks series, Mike Lawson out at first manages to snag a line drive, only for the ball to fall right out of his glove. As if that’s not bad enough, he loses track of where it goes! Watch him turn around twice looking for it!”

A new voice cut in, clearly trying not to break on air. “Unfortunately, his feet do his glove’s work. The veteran catcher trips on the ball and goes down hard. Thankfully the play ended before he could hurt himself much more.”

She watched as Mike on the screen flipped the ball to Sonny covering first, all without climbing to his feet. He sat in the dirt for a few moments before making his way upright again. The camera panned to the dugout, where it caught Ginny practically doubled over in laughter. 

One of the SportsCenter announcers pointed her out.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones enjoying this play. That’s Ginny Baker, Mike Lawson’s teammate, finding the humor in the situation.”

The voices buzzed for a few more moments before cutting out, but Ginny was too busy remembering the way her sides had ached, that was how hard seeing Mike stunned in the dirt had made her laugh, to notice. 

When he’d come back into the dugout, she couldn’t help but stare at the dust caked to his ass. That quickly led to several not-so-idle thoughts about whether or not he was hurt and what it would be like to kiss him bett—Nope. Not going there.

Off-balance, she’d blurted, “You break a hip out there, old man?”

Salvi had snorted and Dusty offered her a fist bump, which Ginny took gleefully.

Mike just rolled his eyes, as he stashed his glove in favor of his batting helmet. “Hilarious, Baker,” he tossed over his shoulder before climbing out of the dugout again. He was on deck. 

The fact that his next hit was a smash deep over the right center wall meant most everyone forgave and forgot the error. 

Not Ginny, though. 

She asked Eliot to look out for any tweets about the error, and sent all the good ones straight to Mike’s official account. Ginny wasn’t sure that he checked it that often, but it’d be a nice surprise when he got around to it. She even pinned a tweet with a gif of Mike endlessly turning in confusion, like a dog chasing his tail, to the top of her feed. Every time she saw it there, she’d giggle and make sure to show it to Mike again. He, inevitably, would just roll his eyes and try to change the subject. 

Now, more than a week later, Ginny’s still left a King Size Butterfinger in his locker every day. Mike’s played first a couple of times since without incident, but Ginny made sure she ribbed him every single game. 

She got fewer laughs from the guys every time, but it felt good to tease Mike again. Felt good to even talk to him at all. 

Things had been… weird this season. Stilted and awkward. 

To be fair, she knew exactly why things were stilted and awkward. She wasn’t stupid. But Ginny’d found it was much easier not to talk about it if she didn’t think about it, either. 

But of course, trying not to think about something only guaranteed that it would be on her mind. Like all the damn time. Every other thought, it seemed, Ginny had to yank herself out of before it could lead her down a dangerous path. 

Which certainly didn’t make things any less awkward. She felt completely out of step with Mike and knew it was only a matter of time before other people started to notice.

Before it could come to that, though, Ginny made a discovery. 

Laughing at Mike, making fun of the stupid errors he made out at first, made it much easier to focus on him as her teammate rather than some ridiculous, hypothetical… something. 

Better to be breathless with laughter than with wanting what she couldn’t have.

So, Ginny had reason to be in a good mood. She could finally look Mike in the eye again and things were slowly inching back towards normalcy. Maybe they’d be able to have an actual conversation in the near future without Ginny needing to either A) say something teasingly mean to distract herself or B) run away rather than do something very very stupid. 

She was feeling so pleased with herself that she didn’t even notice Blip’s presence at her dressing room door.

“Are you watching that SportsCenter clip again?”

Ginny shoved her phone in her pocket and whirled to face him. “No.”

It wasn’t really a lie. She wasn’t watching it anymore. 

“You need to lay off him, it’s getting old and it’s starting to bug him.”

Ginny frowned. Mike’s reaction to her teasing hadn’t really changed since she first busted a gut laughing at him. He’d roll his eyes or flick the brim of her cap, but didn’t bother responding much beyond that. 

Which. Now that she thought about it, was weird in and of itself. Mike Lawson passing up the chance for a smart-mouthed comment? 

Last season, it would have been unimaginable. 

Now, though…

“Mike’s a grown up,” she protested, more to silence the blooming doubt in her mind than in response to Blip. “If he couldn’t take a joke here or there, he wouldn’t have made it this far.”

“Yeah, a joke or two. But when your favorite teammate suddenly can’t stop ragging on you? That’s gotta be pretty hard to deal with.”

“I’m not Lawson’s favorite.”

Blip looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a third arm. “I know it must be hard for you to see a world where I am not everyone’s favorite,” he said, laying a hand dramatically against his heart, “but you’re clearly his favorite, Ginny.”

“No, I’m not!” she insisted, though she wasn’t sure why it was so important that Blip agree with her. 

Maybe because it was much harder to not think about things with the added knowledge that she and Mike were each other’s favorites. 

Blip’s eyes narrowed, and Ginny had the irrational fear that he could read every single racing thought in her head. It wasn’t fair that in return, he had such a good poker face. She had no clue what was going on in that brain of his, just that he probably knew too much for his (and her) own good. 

Finally, he sighed. “You know how when you were a kid and you saw a little boy chasing after a little girl, trying to pull on her pigtails?”

“Yeah,” she replied, in the dark as to where this was going.

“And you know how everyone always said it was just because the boy had a crush on the girl and didn’t know how to tell her?”

She nodded, mortification setting in as she realized what Blip was driving at. 

Of course, he couldn’t just leave it up to her to figure out. No, he had to be crystal clear.

“Stop pulling Mike’s pigtails, Ginny. You’re not being subtle.“ 

A semi-hysterical giggle threatened to well up at the thought of Mike with pigtails, but she managed to keep it together. Still, Blip gave her one last significant look before leaving her in peace. 

She thought she’d been so slick, but if anyone was going to figure her out it would have been Blip. Out of everyone on the team, he definitely knew her best and probably held that honor for Lawson, too. It didn’t help that he loved a good mystery and was too observant for his own good. Ginny buried her face in her hands At least he had the decency to tell her in private and she knew without a doubt he wouldn’t spill what he knew to anyone else. 

(Well, almost anyone, Ginny realized not five minutes later as her phone buzzed with a bombardment of over-excited text messages before lighting up with a call when she didn’t respond fast enough. 

After all, a smart man didn’t keep secrets from his wife.)

ginny baker + someone give this girl a hug

My Father Is a Retired Magician, Ntozake Shange

emilydoesthething:

pitch

↳ The Official Rules of Baseball (6/?)

i’m just human (don’t judge me)

@ladyinredfics: Ginny trying to handle it when she and Mike are together but not public and women hit on him while they’re out with the team.

read it on ao3

---

“You know, it doesn’t matter how long you stare, they’re not gonna burst into flames.”

Ginny nearly jumped, and Blip did his best to rein in his smile. Guilt and annoyance at his intervention flickered across her face before she managed to effect a smooth mask of indifference.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffed, taking a dainty sip from her drink. And going straight back to glaring at the blonde leaning into Mike’s side.

(Completely ignoring the way Mike kept edging away from her.)

Blip eyed her critically, before dropping his gaze to her glass. A tequila sunrise. That was Ginny’s drink-to-forget cocktail of choice. Before this season, he rarely saw her order them. On team outings, she’d limit herself to two beers and call it a night. 

Recently, though, it was all tequila sunrises all the time. And a lot of them.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Especially when so much of Ginny’s attention lately seemed to be eaten up by the groupies constantly hanging off Mike Lawson. 

Like they sensed a going out of business sale, the groupies had really doubled down on Lawson this year. On the one hand, it gave the team something to rag him about that didn’t involve trades, Chicago, or his imminent retirement. On the other, it had turned Ginny into a seething ball of suppressed jealousy. 

Yeah, Blip knew all about Ginny’s feelings for their captain. They were pretty hard to miss. Though Lawson’s feelings were even more obvious. 

Not that either of them really noticed. Just stewed ineffectually whenever the other showed even the slightest interest in someone else. 

It wasn’t pretty and Blip was going to need it to stop before it spilled onto the field. 

“Ginny,” he said, gentle, thinking that an emotionally stunted adult was not what he’d had in mind when he told Evelyn he wanted a third kid. “You know he’s not interested in them, right?”

That seemed to jolt her. She whipped around to look at him, eyes wide. 

“What?” she stammered, knuckles going pale as she gripped her nearly empty glass. 

Blip rolled his eyes. “C’mon. It’s not like either of you are all that subtle.”

Ginny’s gaze darted back to Mike before shaking herself and focusing on Blip. After a long, hard look at him, she sighed and slumped a little. “How long have you known?”

“Since last season.”

Ginny’s brow furrowed. “Last season? But that was before we even—” Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes went wide again. 

Blip leaned both his forearms against the bar, leaning in to try and make eye contact with his friend, though she seemed pretty dead set against that. “Before you even what?” 

“Nothing,” she answered, way too fast. She groped for her straw, slurping up the dregs of her drink and waving the bartender over. Completely ignoring the incredulous look on Blip’s face.  

“Ginny. Before you even what?”

Fresh tequila sunrise in hand, Ginny sucked it down in three quick gulps. Blip would be impressed if she weren’t doing it just to avoid answering. He stared her down. He knew Ginny was aware of what he was doing because there was a flush riding high on her cheeks. 

“So, something happened. You wouldn’t be this weird if it was really nothing.” Ginny kept staring down at her empty glass, so Blip kept going. “I’m thinking that the two of you lost sight of who you are—teammates—in favor of what you’d like to be. And maybe it was just once, but I don’t think you’re the type to get so jealous over a one time thing.”

Ginny’s chin ducked and Blip’s zeroed in on it. 

“No, you’re definitely not. Especially not if you know nothing could come of it. But if something has come of it…”

Ginny stared steadfastly at the racks of liquor behind the bar, but the tendon jumping in her jaw told Blip how close he was coming to the mark. He closed his eyes, hoping that he was wrong.

“Ginny, tell me you didn’t.”

She sighed in defeat and finally met his gaze. “I can’t.”

Blip slumped against the back of his barstool, head tilting up to the ceiling. “Are you serious? You know that there’s no good way for this to end. A fling with your outgoing captain? The press is gonna crucify you!”

“It’s not a fling,” she protested, rocking back from him in offense.

“Sure it’s not,” Blip snorted, taking a long drag from his neglected beer. 

“It’s not.” 

He wasn’t sure what it was that made him reassess. Maybe it was the quiet certainty in Ginny’s voice. The way she didn’t try to justify herself because she realized it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Maybe it was the fact that Mike chose that moment to look over at them, every one of his feelings for Ginny evident on his face. Ginny wasn’t even looking back, but like she could feel his attention, she smiled, soft and gentle. 

Maybe they were for real.

Blip certainly hoped so, and not just because the team’s dynamic was on the line. 

So, when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out to see a message from Mike—“come distract this chick so i can get outta here”—Blip just tilted the screen toward Ginny and watched the smile spread across her face. 

After that, he stopped watching because he really didn’t need to witness two of his closest friends flirting with each other. And then probably leaving with each other. 

He really didn’t need to know anything about that. 

But if playing wingman meant that Ginny wouldn’t be glowering at everything that moved tomorrow, he would take one for the team.