Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared although – Heh! You know major league teams have 25-man rosters, right?
Rating: PG-13 (NC-17 for later episodes)
Warnings: Language, Baseball, Schmoop, Angst, Boy-Sexin’
Word Count: 3,626
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended for the use of the MLB teams/players/logos. This is for fun, not profit.
A/N: This is the (mostly) true story of what happened at Jays Spring Training in Dunedin one year, and it was epic fun! Toronto got a real kick out of our boys, and I was no exception. This is the true spirit of the game: having fun and playing ball. It’s always nice to see our boys of summer enjoy themselves, and this is the prank that inspired my Jays2 ‘verse.
FYI: In the real world prank, the part of Michael Rosenbaum was played by Jays star pitcher, Roy “Doc” Halliday; Tom Welling was played by new recruit, pitcher AJ Burnett; Jared Padalecki was really Jays second baseman, Aaron Hill; and Jensen Ackles channelled shortstop, Russ Adams. I just embellished a few things here and there, lol.
Chapter Title from the classic Vaudevillian comedy duo, Abbott and Costello’s, baseball skit. If you love baseball, this is a must-see! Check it out here on YouTube: www.youtube.com/watch
Read, review, enjoy! Comments = Love!
Summary: What happens when boys and baseball collide during Spring Training? Well, fun and frolic and a whole lot of pranking by grown men who should know better, and little boys who should never cross their elders.
Four: Who’s on First, What’s on Second, I Don’t Know’s on Third. Why’s in Leftfield, Because is at Center, Tomorrow’s Pitching and Today’s Catching. Oh, and I Don’t Give a Darn is Short
Jared smiled as he looked at the back of Jensen’s jersey: Ackles, 13.
His own jersey identified him as: Padalecki, 14.
He liked that they had sequential numbers. He liked that he and Jensen had their lockers side by side; he liked that they bunked together at the cheap hotel the team had rented out; he liked that they sat next to each other in the dugout; and he liked that even on the field, they were only separated by the second base pad. And if that wasn’t sweet enough, they were playing their 4-6 positions real well, sliding into a rhythm as if they had been doing it for years.
So to sum up: he liked Jensen Ackles. A lot. Period.
It was a good thing then, that they were friends, firmly set on the path to best-friendom, and that was just about the awesomest shit ever, because Jared – just in case someone missed the memo – really liked Jensen. Nothing unusual about that, because Jared generally tended to like just about everyone, but there was something about Jensen that was... special, and he’d never made such an immediate connection with anyone before.
Plus, the man put up with Jared’s shit like no one else ever had in his life, except maybe his Momma, and that was only because she was expected to, being genetically predispositioned to love him and all. Jensen also tended to give as good as he got and Jared respected that, in fact, that just endeared Jensen to him more. Not to mention the fact that they were now partners-in-crime; half the fun of playing baseball was pranking other players, and he and Jensen were giving it their best shot every damn day with hilarious results.
If only payback wasn’t such a bitch, he thought, surreptitiously scratching his balls.
“Fucking Tom Welling,” Jensen mumbled as he sank down to sit next to Jared’s outstretched form, and ground his ass into the grass. Hard. “Can’t believe I actually thought that guy was awesome.”
“I think it’s Mike. Mike makes everyone kinda nuts. Fucking weirdo,” Jared imparted with all the logic he could muster. Jensen nodded in agreement, gave up the wriggling and rubbed his palm over his crotch. Jared blinked and tried not to look.
“Who knew? The Jays star pitcher is a world class asswipe,” Jensen huffed, “and all we did was take the tires off his Mustang.”
“Are you forgetting the part where we had it moved out to centerfield and left it there? Mounted on cinderblocks?”
“I don’t think that warrants putting itching powder in our underwear!” Jensen now openly scratched at his groin, causing Jared to moan before he too gave into the fierce need for relief. Two showers later and they were still Itchy and Scratchy over here. Goddamn Mike and Tom, those major league assholes.
“Look at them over there on the mound,” Jared grumbled as he twitched. The pitchers had given up laughing and pointing at them over an hour ago and were now deep in discussion about something, standing together, heads inclined close, their concept of personal space boundaries about as non-existent as Jared’s usually were, although Jared had an excuse for that – he was Jared. What the fuck was their excuse?
“Yeah, gay much?” Jensen quipped.
Jared giggled. Giggled? Christ. He cleared his throat as Jensen snorted and glared at his friend, daring him to mention the girly laugh. Jensen being the smart guy he was, wisely held his tongue. It may or may not have been because Jared totally knew all his ticklish spots and was not afraid of manhandling him in public.
Yeah, this friendship thing they had going was working out real well for him.
He gave his dick a satisfying scratch, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at how good it felt, before looking at Jensen. Jensen. Who was unashamedly giving his own dick the same attention... and, as a result, had a weird, blissful look on his face. It made Jared’s own face heat up a little, so he looked away. That’s all Jensen needed to see, was him blushing. Jeez.
“How the fuck do we make ‘em pay for this?” Jensen asked.
“It’s gotta be good, man,” Jared mused, his brain working overtime, “we gotta get ‘em good.” Jared looked over at the two pitchers again as he mulled over their options for revenge, his eyes widening at the way the two men stood; Tom with his arm around Mike’s shoulder while Mike’s arm wrapped proprietarily around Tom’s waist. When they spoke, they leaned into each other, practically cheek to cheek, as if to block out the rest of the world, whatever was being said seemingly for their ears only. A laugh gusted out of Jared. “Dude, it’s like Brokeback Mound!”
Jensen froze and they looked at each other for a second before dissolving into side-splitting laughter; winding themselves up so hard, that they were breathless afterwards. Breathless, but not without a brilliant plan taking shape in their deviously attuned minds.
Payback was their bitch now.
Something strange was going on, but Mike couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
It started with a snort.
Then came a hushed giggle.
This was followed by several sniggers, and a copious amount of muffled chuckling that swiftly became outright guffaws when he and Tom walked out onto the field to train the next day.
It was those two young punks, he just knew it.
“They did something, didn’t they?” Tom sighed from beside him.
“No doubt about it,” Mike affirmed, “but what the fuck did they do? I can’t tell.” He began to worry when the team started to draw near when as they approached the mound.
Suddenly, the strains of some twangy country melody sounded from the speakers, and the guys surrounded them, arms slung across each other’s shoulders as they circled him and Tommy, their bodies swaying slowly from side to side in time to the music and seriously: What. The. Fuck?
“Oh God...” Tom groaned from just behind him, and when Mike turned to look at him, his face was a blotchy red, his blue eyes shy and embarrassed and amused all at the same time, and goddamn it, for a moment, Mike couldn’t look away. “Look up there,” Tom nodded at the huge screen overlooking the field, and Mike closed his eyes for a second, almost afraid to look; that screen was not supposed to work during a training session, and the fact that it was working meant that sometime later today, two infielders would meet their untimely demise at his hands.
He looked. And groaned, abruptly recognizing the music blaring softly from the speakers around the stadium.
It was the theme to Brokeback Mountain.
And up on the screen, for God and everyone to see, were his and Tommy’s backs, their jerseys proudly proclaiming their numbers and two words where their names should have been: ‘Brokeback’ on Tom, and ‘Mound’ on his.
Mike took a few seconds to appreciate the prank, and the balls and brains it took to pull it off so effortlessly, and tipped his cap in the direction of the two culprits, both of whom were grinning like the idiots they were.
Let them bask in their glory, he thought to himself, it would be short-lived. A slow, wicked smile formed on his face; he would teach them a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget. Young whippersnappers. How dare they even presume to cross him?
The team, the fans and the press hadn’t dubbed him Maniac for nothing.
“Dude, it’s been three weeks,” Jensen complained to Jared as they settled down into bed for the night. He had taken to reminding Jared everyday that retribution at the hands of Mike Rosenbaum had yet to come. Truth be told, Jared was concerned as well; Mike was both the sanest and the most batshit crazy guy on the team. It was one of those intangible things that made him so cool. “I think it may be time to worry. He’s up to something, and man, it’s gonna be bad.”
“Ain’t no doubt in no one’s mind ‘bout that.”
Jared smiled as a little Texas slipped into Jensen’s sleepy voice. This was one of the best parts of the day for him, these last few moments when they talked each other to sleep. It was weirdly intimate, both of them like this, their beds separated by just a small nightstand; sometimes he felt that if he laid on his side and reached out, he could actually touch Jensen in the other bed. Yeah, Padalecki, he thought to himself with a small smile, like that would go over real well. He had a feeling that Jensen was fast getting used to him and his ways though; when they had first become roommates, Jensen hadn’t been touchy-feely or chatty, but now... he actually hugged Jared for no reason and sometimes Jared couldn’t shut him up. It was kinda nice. Soothing. He liked falling asleep to the sound of Jensen’s voice.
And no, there was nothing weird about that. Nothing at all.
It was just them, and strangely, considering they’d only known each other for a short while, that was all the explanation that was required.
It was on their last day in Dunedin, the day before the team was due back in Toronto, that Eric Kripke announced the active 25-man roster of the 2012 Blue Jays.
It was on their first day of training at the Rogers Centre, Number 1 Blue Jays Way, on a gorgeous April morning in Toronto, with the cerulean sky above them so clear that the faint outline of the moon was still visible in the distance, and when the excitement of making the team had superceded everything else in the new players’ lives, that Michael Rosenbaum, gleefully aided and abetted by Tom Welling, in cheerful cahoots with the rest of the team, and indeed the entire Blue Jays organization, unleashed his intricate, elegantly crafted, masterful revenge.
“All right, guys,” McG, their strength and conditioning coach, yelled out at the beginning of their first training session, “gather around and listen up. I’m going to outline a plan for our next few training sessions...”
Everyone clustered around the coach, Jared and Jensen lagging behind, since Jared’s shoelaces had come undone. “Wait up, Jen,” he called out as he sank to one knee on the artificial turf surface of the Rogers centre.
“...sen,” Jensen huffed. “Seriously, why can’t you just call me Jensen? Two syllables, Jared; and they’re easy to sound out, and they rhyme.”
Jared smirked up at him as he took the bunny ears through the loops, or however his mom had taught him how to tie his laces. “I like calling you ‘Jen’. It suits you and it’s cute. Just like you.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me...”
A chorus of “Aww”s and almost maniacal laughter rang across the field towards them, and both of them turned to see that at the rest of the team, coaches and even Kripke, were gathering around them, grinning like loons.
“Well, lookee here, boys,” Kane called out, “Padalecki’s not only proposing, he’s doing it right – on bended knee!”
“Aww, that’s so romantic, dudes,” Hodge teased, “I’m totally getting all teary-eyed and shit”.
Jared looked up at Jensen just as Jensen looked down at him. And noted he was still down on one knee. Shit. Jared struggled to stand, but suddenly felt the weight of Boreanaz’s heavy hand holding him down.
“Not until you get your answer, Sunshine,” he smirked down at Jared.
Carlson laughed from just behind Boreanaz. “Yeah, don’t be cruel, Ackles; don’t leave your man hanging. Answer the question.”
“What the fuck are you shitheads talking about?” Jensen asked, taking the words from Jared’s mouth.
Chad threw back his head and cackled, pointing to the blue skies above. “Answer the question, Angel.”
Both Jared and Jensen looked up.
And then promptly wished they hadn’t.
For there, up in the sky, was a small airplane, flying low, proudly pulling a long banner behind it, the words easily visible through the open roof of the Rogers Centre, to the team and the entire population of downtown Toronto, should they have been looking up at that very moment.
Jensen, will you marry me? I love you. Jared
Jared was sure he heard a dull thud as his jaw hit the ground, while Jensen merely covered his red face with his hand as the team erupted in raucous laughter and hooted and hollered as the plane flew by a few more times, making sure that no one had missed the message.
Mike chortled as David finally let Jared stand, and he slapped Tom’s hand in a high-five. “Live and learn, young padawans. That’s what happens when you mess with a Jedi master.”
“Holy crap,” Jared groaned as they stumbled into the empty locker room about an hour later. The team had ribbed them but good, but the joke had eventually worn off, and they had been left to themselves. Which was kind of odd, but Jared chose not to dwell on it. Maybe the guys were anxious to make the most of these couple of days off before they began the season. At least he hoped that was the reason. “How the hell are we gonna top that?”
“It might require some research, Jared, but I’m sure if we put our minds to it, we’ll come up with something suitable,” Jensen grinned wickedly at him, and Jared could almost see the wheels set in motion in his head. “We should do it at an away game though; they won’t be expecting... hey, what’s this?” Jared looked to see Jensen holding a powder blue envelope in his hand. “You got one too, man.”
Jared picked up the envelope with his name, written in elegant calligraphy, across the front. “They just put us on the team; you don’t think they’re gonna cut us already, do you?”
“Nah, dude, I don't think pink slips are gonna look like this. Besides,” Jensen turned the envelope around in his hands, his fingertips smoothing the embossed paper, feeling the texture in a way that was making Jared feel funny in his tummy. He shook his head to clear it; what was he – five? Then he paid attention because Jen was talking. “... looks like an invitation...”
“... to a wedding,” Jensen finished, turning to Jared with a look of horror in his eyes. He tore open the envelope, and read the words out loud, just as Jared scanned his own invitation.
And Michael Fucking Rosenbaum wasn’t just any Jedi Master; he was Yoda.
When Jared and Jensen walked into Sidelines restaurant, the amazing open-air eatery that overlooked centerfield at the Rogers Centre – because after getting those invitations, how could they not? (Plus, they were pretty sure the exits were being watched, just in case they decided to run) – they froze mid-step on the threshold.
The restaurant had been transformed: the decor and colour scheme had been changed, and everything was now the colours of the old-school Jays uniform, all powder blues and navy, red and white trim. The chairs were draped in soft blue fabric, each with giant satiny-looking, pouffy bows at the back. The tables were elegantly set, with elaborate flower arrangements as centre-pieces, honest-to-goodness fancy china, gleaming silverware and blue napkins artistically folded into swans that nested in the centre of each dinner plate.
There was a buffet set up along one wall, while along the other stood a series of tables of varying sizes: the largest one, which was closest to the entrance, held an impressive pile of artfully gift-wrapped boxes, in various shades of blues and silver, festooned with bows and red curlicue ribbons. The table next to that held an assortment of desserts and cakes and the last table, the smallest, held a glorious three-tiered, white, blue and silver wedding cake complete with two little grooms, hand in hand, perched atop it.
The team, still in uniform, stood around the tables, Mike and Tom right up front, all of them sporting ridiculous smiles. Jared heard Jensen groan as the mastermind of the entire operation approached them, his trusty sidekick a step behind him, both of them holding what appeared to be black tuxedo jackets in their hands.
Tuxedo jackets with their names and numbers on the back.
“We weren’t sure if you guys would go by Ackles-Padalecki or Padalecki-Ackles, so we just kept your individual names for this,” Tom informed them, as he and Mike helped them into their jackets, and then slipped goddamn silk garters up their right arms, until the garters daintily decorated their biceps in blue.
Jared couldn’t help it. He laughed, loud and hard. This was a doozie of a prank.
“It also happens to be April first, dude,” Mike told them, “so I decided to go all out.”
Once they were both ‘dressed’, Chad and Misha raised their champagne flutes and grinned diabolically. “To the happy couple,” Misha yelled, and Chad – the fucker – picked up a fork and tapped his glass with it.
“Kiss!” He yelled.
“Aww, shoot. Goddamn it, Mayhem,” Jensen groused as he glared at Chad.
“Can’t have a wedding without a kiss – that shit just ain’t right,” Carlson told them. “Trust me, happily-ever-after depends on how good this kiss is. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I don’t want happily-ever-after with Jared!”
“Hey!” Jared piped up, insulted. Jensen looked immediately contrite and patted his chest, right above his heart.
“No offense, man. If I were a girl, I’d be all over you!”
“You are a girl, Angel,” Chad sniggered, “the prettiest dick here, remember?”
“You would do that and cheat on Jared?” Misha tsked.
“Shut up. Jared, help me out here!”
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Chad chanted, and the team joined in, much to Jared’s amusement. He looked at Jensen with an affectionate smirk.
“You moron,” Jensen accused, “you’re enjoying this!”
“You have to admit it, Jen, they got us pretty damn good.”
“Still not kissing you...”
“Aww pumpkin,” Jared teased, taking a step closer to his teammate. “I’m an awesome kisser! I swear I’ll make it good for you, baby.”
“I’m gonna hurt you, Padalecki...” Jensen warned, a mutinous look in his eye, and then ruined the effect by taking a hasty step back. When Jared advanced again, he took another step back. Jared grinned and reached out to grab him by the lapels of his tux, much to the amusement of the rest of the team who were egging him on, hooting and catcalling. Once Jared yanked Jensen closer – and really, Jen didn’t even put up that much of a fight – he pursed his lips, made kissy noises and edged closer, which had Jen leaning back and away from him in his arms. He must have looked like an idiot, because suddenly Jensen laughed. The sound hit Jared right in the gut, jolting him and making him catch his breath.
“Come on, Ackles, give your boy a kiss,” Mike urged, a wicked grin on his face as he pulled Tom close by hooking an arm around his neck. “It’s not hard, I’ll even give you a demo...” And the entire team watched in stunned fascination as he kissed Tom on the mouth, right there, in front of everyone. “See? Easy,” he drawled as he drew back, leaving a shell-shocked Tom Welling in his wake. “Now, you two do it,” he squinted at them and threatened, “don’t make us make you do it with tongue...”
Apparently, that threat worked, because before Jared could even fully register Mike’s words, Jensen had grabbed his face and was kissing him. On the mouth; his soft, plush lips pressing against Jared’s, stealing his breath and every rational thought from his brain. Jared barely had time to savour the kiss before Jensen was pulling away, clearing his throat, and heading towards the buffet.
And why did he need to savour another man’s kiss, a little voice inside his head asked him. He shook his head and ignored it, instead joining Jen and their stupid, laughing teammates as they lined up to get fed.
“Jesus,” Jensen grumbled. “The food better be goddamn amazing to make up for this shit.”
“Yeah,” Jared agreed, just as grumpily, and poked his tongue out at Mike. “There had better be steak, is all I’m sayin’.”
There was. The food was spectacular, the desserts sinful, and the wedding cake decadent. Their send-off was ridiculously funny, and started off with that little plane doing another fly-by, this time tagging along a banner that simply stated: Congratulations Jensen and Jared, and ended with the two of them piling into Jared’s SUV, which proudly proclaimed that they were ‘Just Married’. They didn’t even see the words painted on the back of the big vehicle until they pulled into the hotel parking lot and got out, and even then, Jared was much, much more interested in listening to Jensen’s carefree laughter as he fell into Jared’s chest for support.
And standing there in that underground parking garage that day, Jared realized that he was happy; happier than he had ever been in his life before. He was a Blue Jay, he had an armful of Jensen Ackles, and an SUV that read:
I love turning two with Jensen! Watch us turn two tonight!
He chuckled as Jensen looked up at him, his green eyes smiling, crinkling in the corners, making Jared want to maybe kiss him again. “There is no topping this.”
“No,” Jared had to agree, nearly drowning in those jade eyes, “it doesn’t get any better than this.”