I'm on my way to, you guessed it, another MLB game! So here's part 2 of Pitcher!Brad and Catcher!Ray.
Edit: So sorry this took so long to get out! Thank you to @luxover, @ableedingpen and @birdthebrat for the lovely comments on part 1. I hope y'all enjoy!
• Pitcher!Brad and Catcher!Ray who's team is tied for first place in their division. Nobody saw it coming with how poorly managed their team is, but with those two blazing through innings with no hits, they've done it.
• Catcher!Ray who's never played a game this big or important in his life. Who's lowkey so nervous he goes through two whole tins of zyns in the hours leading up to the first pitch. Who still plays his role as the funky, class clown of the team because he knows it's what they need. But deep down he's freaking his shit and trying desperately to hide it on account of not wanting to let anyone on the team down. No one on their team notices his inner anxiety. Except for Brad.
• Pitcher!Brad, who, even as an emotionally repressed viking, can tell immediately upon entering the locker room that something is up with Ray. He's taking faster than his normal ADHD pace, if you can believe it, and his jokes do their job to lighten the mood but feel hollow to him. Brad takes mental note of all of these signs as he silently goes through his pre game ritual in the locker room. A ritual that normally ends with him and Ray giving each other shit before they step into the field, but tonight he decides Ray needs something a bit different than just the normal insults they sling at each other.
• Catcher!Ray who's so in his own head as he goes through the stupidly long process of putting all his catching gear and stuffing copious about of dip and sunflower seeds in his mouth on that he doesn't hear the rest of his team leave the locker room and especially doesn't hear Brad approach him. Until he zones back in to see Brad's cleats only inches from his own.
• Pitcher!Brad who knows how to capture Ray's attention better than anyone, gets right in his face. But he doesn't yell or joke or do anything for about 3 seconds. Actually Ray is starting to think their best pitcher is having a stroke. But no, Brad very calmly tells Ray's whiskey tango cousin fucking trailer park NASCAR going ass to not fuck this up for him.
• and of course Catcher!Ray's immediate response to that is you can just say you were checking out my ass homes but id be a bit worried because then you'd have to fight Blue and he's a fucking asshole and—"Ray. If you can get us to the world series is one piece I will do things to your ass you've never even dreamed of." Now, Ray has many a comeback for that but ends up telling Brad how that's military level gay. Which causes that miniscule smile to appear for a spilt second on his dear Bradley's face.
• Catcher!Brad and Pitcher!Ray who go out to the bullpen and do Brad's long as fuck warm up routine. Stretches, calisthenics, ball exercises, viking mediation bullshit, ya know, all the typical Brad stuff. And Ray is like—locked in. Of course he knows every moment of Brad's routine down to the minute and doesn't stop his constant pregame monologue about how much the league would be fixed if they just capped the damn salary but he is starting to notice some things. Like just how fucking huge Brad's hands are in comparison to the ball and damn homes he must get a glove costume made. He's always known Brad had big hands, with him being 6'5 and 215, and well, being a pitcher. But like now he's looking looking. Shit. And what's connected to his stupid tan gorgeous hands? Oh yeah. His equally tan and ripped triceps and biceps; because Ray's traitorous eyes just can't help it. Ray is sure he must be tripping on laced sunflower seeds or something because what the fuck? Ray has never thought of his best friend that way... Ok well maybe once, or twice but Ray's definitely not keeping track.
• But regardless of Catcher!Ray's derailed train of thought he really does feel ready to make this game his bitch. Like more so than usual. His trust and respect of Brad has only grown while being on his team but now it feels like they're the only two players on the whole field. Which he fears is kinda gay, but if they win who gives a fuck? And if they do, on some pipe dream, make it to the world series then Ray can finally figure out what Brad wants to do with his ass, or to it, Ray's not picky and oh! maybe— wait hang on one second Brad's sinker is coming straight towards Ray's chest at 95 miles per hour annnnnnd yep. Sttttrike, yeah take a fucking seat homes.
