#woo

tagged by @stars-of-nixie @ozonecologne @exhuastedpigeon @overwhelmed-alien @seekstrivefind @tgmsunmontue

wow i'm actually doing it on a Wednesday. Anyway, I'm a few days into my 9-day Colorado trip, then heading to STL once I get back home for hilary round 2...then then then lmao (the season of BUSY). BUT I am slowly tinkering away at fics at night and have been inspired as of late so! Here's a snippet from broadcaster in honor of baseball miles pics and some excitement again over it

Snippet:

She left him in the VIP suites to continue her busy night. Jake adjusted the Dodgers jersey over his tank as he slipped through the crowd and pulled out his phone. He toyed with the lanyard around his neck as the line rang.

“Jake?” Bradley picked up.

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.” He leaned against the wall, nodding at someone he vaguely knew from an old Adidas campaign. “How’s it going?”

“Hold on.” The vague background noise that sounded so much like their Sunday evenings faded as Bradley stepped into a quieter hallway somewhere. He was likely alone because he admitted, “Shitting bricks, honestly.” His voice went smug. “Call to wish me good luck?”

“Something like that. Any chance your handlers will let you off-leash?”

“Uh.” He imagined Bradley checking the watch on his wrist. “I have like ten minutes maybe…” He paused. “Why’s it so loud? Where are you?”

“Trying to avoid Matt Stafford right now,” Jake answered, turning sideways to avoid his focus across the room. Nothing against him. He was simply working with limited time. “Did you know these lanyards they give you can get you almost anywhere except the broadcast booth? I tried, but turns out some people are immune to my charm, according to Rick the Elevator Dickhead.”

“You’re…no fucking way are you here.”

“Why don’t you go to VIP and find out?”

There was no response, but the line didn’t click, either. Bradley’s footsteps echoed over the phone, followed by a muffled conversation and an elevator ding. It took two minutes, but then Bradley was striding through the crowd with his phone pressed to his ear, looking around like a man on a mission. He froze mid-step when they locked eyes. Jake raised a hand.

Bradley beelined toward him. He stopped a foot away, blinking owlishly. “You’re here.”

“I am.” Jake smirked. “Wanna hang up now?”

“Right.” Bradley did, shoving his phone into his dress pants. He poked Jake in the shoulder like he was a scientist analyzing an alien lifeform.

“You okay there, Bradshaw? Or do I need to alert medical?”

Bradley shook the shock away, and then a slow, stupidly pretty smile formed. His scars glinted in the shitty suite lighting— in person, he looked good in that setting, at home against the white and blue jerseys and catered hot dogs. “I knew you’d get into baseball.”

“Keep dreaming.”

His grin only grew as he leaned against the wall beside him. “So you’re here for me.”

“It’s what partners do, right? Someone had to talk you off the pregame ledge. Knew Johnny boy wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

A hint of cockiness shifted onto his face. “Partners, huh?”

“Hey, Twitter was all a flurry after you weren’t with me in the booth Sunday. Had to give ‘em something new to go on about.”

“Mm, you do love to make people talk.”

“It is my job.”

They watched the crowded room for a moment, taking it in. Bradley’s phone buzzed several times in quick succession. He sighed. “They’ll probably string me up by my thumbs if I don’t get up there in time to get mic’ed up.” He looked around and flagged down a staff member passing by, offering his phone. “Hey, man, mind snapping a quick pic for us?”

“Sure, Mr. Bradshaw.” 

Jake didn’t bother commenting. He merely leaned into the arm Bradley threw over him with a smile. It was matched on Bradley’s face in the photo. There was no doubt it would be all over NBC’s official sports accounts within minutes of being posted.

Bradley pocketed his phone, preparing to head off and do his actual job. “Jake?” When Jake looked at him, Bradley gave him a soft, private smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“You’ve got this. Swing batta batta swing and all that shit.”

Bradley took a few steps backward toward the elevators. “Text me your seat number. I’ll find you after the game. You can come down to the field for the trophy presentation.”

Jake’s brow rose. “Thought that was credentialed press and family only?”

“Rick does like me.” Bradley winked, then turned on his heel. 

Jake waited until he was out of sight before he went to track down Matt and say hi.

No pressure tagging @prollybradshaw @mxrcusflint @tornadeoqueen

heheh hi Rin I too love you 😁 /plat