Baseball Slash: The Second Inning
May. 19th, 2005 02:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mijanTitle: "Baseball Slash"
Author: P
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13 to R
Length: The second inning is 1,612 words.
Summary: Draco buys beer, and picks a fight. Harry tries to explain a double-play to Draco, but only manages to save Draco's arse. Barely.
Notes: This will be my last installement for three weeks. I'm going to Germany for an Army thing, but I'll be back by the middle of June. In the meantime, have fun, and go watch a baseball game. It's good entertainment. :)
Second Inning
Second Inning
The score was still tied at zero, and Harry was already halfway through his beer as Posada stepped up to the plate. Although he was doing his best to focus on the game, and ignore Draco’s whining, he was rapidly discovering yet another Basic Truth. Right up there, alongside the Law of Gravity and the fact that the Yankees suck, was the fact that it was impossible to ignore Draco Malfoy when he didn’t want to be ignored.
“Harry, you’d better appreciate this, because I’m still here, for you, because it’s your birthday, and this is what you wanted to do, despite the fact that this entire situation is offensive, despicable, revolting, aggravating, and generally heinous. In fact, that means for my birthday, you ought to be my personal slave for the day. No, for the week. And that’s hardly a fair trade, you know –”
Harry watched a ball sail off Posada’s bat only to land in the left field grandstand. Foul ball.
“– because not only do I have to put up with these ridiculous people, and this utterly boring sport –”
Harry shrunk lower into his seat and took a swallow of his beer.
“– but I’m surrounded by the smell of cheap beer and peanuts. PEANUTS! Of all things.”
“I like peanuts,” said the loud woman behind him.
“You would,” Draco snapped back.
She scowled, reached into her pack of peanuts, and threw one at him. With excellent aim. It bounced squarely off his nose.
Harry saw Draco’s hand slipping into his pocket for his wand just in time, and he grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him back into his seat. “Draco, sit down, shut up, and watch the game.”
“Don’t want to,” he said sullenly.
Harry groaned. “Didn’t you say you were going to get me another beer?”
“Well, I –”
Before he could protest further, Harry stood and tugged him to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the exit. “There are booths in the area under the bleachers. Just go get a couple of beers, and bring them back, okay? And please, don’t get into any fights while you’re down there.” He leaned closer to Draco’s ear. “And please don’t take out your wand in front of the Muggles!”
With a gentle push, he sent Draco off to the concession stands and collapsed back into his seat. He felt a hand patting his shoulder, and turned to see Michelle looking at him with a sympathetic expression. “And it’s only the second inning. Are you going to survive?”
“I’m more worried about him.” He inclined his head in the direction Draco had gone. He looked at Yvette, and at the burly, bearded man sitting two seats down from her. He and Yvette were having a lively conversation about “fucking Yankees fans”, and something about “decapitation”. Harry sighed. “Thanks for the beer, anyway. I think I’m going to need a fair few to get through this game without a heart attack, the way Draco is going.”
“Well, he’s not doing very much to help himself, is he?”
“He hasn’t spent much time around Mu – er... Americans.”
Michelle furrowed her eyebrows, but shrugged it off and took a sip of her beer. “Well, that’s kinda obvious. You really should have coached him before bringing him to a ball game.”
“Actually, he brought me.”
“Really? I’m almost impressed. No, strike that... I’m shocked. If he hates it so much, why did he agree to do it?”
“Simple. I spent the last three months begging, cajoling, whining, fussing, pleading, and demanding. And when that didn’t work, I withheld sex.”
“Aaaah. Worked like a charm, didn’t it?”
Harry grinned and downed the last sip of his beer. “You bet.”
“So, what are you doing in America? You’re obviously British, and a recent import at that.”
Harry stole a quick glance at the field before leaning back. “We’re here taking some classes at an American university.”
“Oh really? Which one?”
“Er.. Boston University... hey! Posada just struck out, and we missed it!”
The woman was immediately distracted from questioning him as she joined in with the rest of the cheering crowd, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn’t like lying to people, but the last thing he needed to do was to tell people why he was really there. Avoidance was the best policy. He forced himself to take a deep breath and relax for a minute, just absorbing the sights and sounds. This wasn’t the time to worry. This was his birthday. He was away from the war, away from danger, away from Voldemort. He was sitting in the bleachers at Fenway Park, the Yankees had been held scoreless for another half-inning, Trot Nixon was coming up to bat, it was a sunny day, and he had beer... or had already had one beer. He looked down at his empty cup. “I need another beer. Where the hell is Draco?”
A hand reached past his cheek and pointed down towards the exit to the concessions. “Might I direct your attention to the brawl that’s about to form down in front?” Yvette said.
Harry felt the color drain from his face. “Oh shit!” He dropped his empty cup, jumped over two people in their seats, and half-ran, half-stumbled down the stairs. He skidded to a stop between Draco and a large man wearing a Sox cap. “Draco, what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything! I was bringing back your beer, and I asked this gentleman to let me pass, and he became hostile!”
Harry groaned inwardly and eyed the man Draco had been arguing with. The man bore a slight resemblance to a taller Vernon Dursley, and could easily have turned Draco into a pretzel. “Okay, what really happened?”
The man wasn’t that much taller than Harry, but his sheer girth alone made Harry painfully aware of how bad it would be if he couldn’t appease him. The man took an intimidating step towards Harry. “Your friend here told me to – what were the exact words again? – get my ‘bloody oversized American arse’ out of his way.” He grunted aggressively. “No need to ask twice if he’s a Yankees fan.”
Draco snorted. “How the hell was I supposed to know he had superhuman hearing?”
Harry wanted to cry. Instead, he rolled his eyes skyward and prayed to be struck by lightning before the day could get any worse. “I’m sorry, sir. My friend doesn’t have a proper understanding of manners and etiquette. Here.” He grabbed one of the two beers from Draco and promptly handed it to the man. “On us.”
Before the man could say anything else, Harry took the second beer from Draco, and with drink firmly in hand, dragged his boyfriend back to their seats without another word. When they got there, Michelle was appraising them with a stern expression that reminded Harry of McGonagall, and Yvette was leaning forward on the back of Draco’s seat, smirking evilly.
“Close call, Yankee boy. You’re lucky your boyfriend saved you.”
Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Harry spun him around and forced him into his seat. “Sit. Watch. If you’re good, I’ll buy you some cracker jacks. Now please, just let me enjoy the game?” he pleaded.
Draco mumbled something that included the words “asinine” and “homicidal”.
Harry took a chug of his beer. A very large chug.
With Trot on base, Shea hit a hard ground ball. Trot was thrown out at second, but Shea managed to beat the double-play.
“Fielder’s Choice. Shit,” Yvette grumbled to herself.
“What’s that?” Draco asked. That’s when Harry noticed Draco was actually looking at the field. Not with any degree of appreciation, but at least he was looking.
With a surge of hope and some effort, he managed to occupy Draco with an explanation of a double-play. “So if the ball is hit on the ground, and there’s a runner on first base, you can get the lead runner with a forced-out by tagging the base.”
“Huh?”
“Well, you throw the ball to the second baseman – or the shortstop, depending on where the ball was hit – and that player tags the base while holding the ball.”
“And that does what?”
“It gets the runner out,” Harry explained patiently.
“Wouldn’t you have to tag the runner to get him out? What the… what do you call it… base?... do again?”
“You have to tag the bases on the way around, and… oh damn it, Draco.” Harry sighed. “You can either tag the runner or the base.”
Draco considered this for a minute. “You know what, Harry?”
“What?”
Draco leaned in to speak so that only Harry could hear. “You’re right. The Muggles aren’t stupid. Because it obviously takes some sort of twisted brainpower to understand all the convoluted rules… but they’re definitely insane to have come up with such a game in the first place!”
Harry appraised Draco for a moment. “I think I should give up all hopes of explaining the infield fly rule.”
“The what?”
Harry sighed. “Never mind. Watch the game. You’ll start to figure it out. And here, have some peanuts.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Harry tried a few more times to explain the plays as they happened, and he suspected that Draco understood some of it. More than he’d admit, at any rate. In the very least, he made it through the inning without causing another argument. Fifteen minutes later, the Red Sox had stranded Trot on third and Varitek on first for a scoreless half of the inning, and Harry had drained his second beer of the afternoon.
Author: P
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13 to R
Length: The second inning is 1,612 words.
Summary: Draco buys beer, and picks a fight. Harry tries to explain a double-play to Draco, but only manages to save Draco's arse. Barely.
Notes: This will be my last installement for three weeks. I'm going to Germany for an Army thing, but I'll be back by the middle of June. In the meantime, have fun, and go watch a baseball game. It's good entertainment. :)
Second Inning
The score was still tied at zero, and Harry was already halfway through his beer as Posada stepped up to the plate. Although he was doing his best to focus on the game, and ignore Draco’s whining, he was rapidly discovering yet another Basic Truth. Right up there, alongside the Law of Gravity and the fact that the Yankees suck, was the fact that it was impossible to ignore Draco Malfoy when he didn’t want to be ignored.
“Harry, you’d better appreciate this, because I’m still here, for you, because it’s your birthday, and this is what you wanted to do, despite the fact that this entire situation is offensive, despicable, revolting, aggravating, and generally heinous. In fact, that means for my birthday, you ought to be my personal slave for the day. No, for the week. And that’s hardly a fair trade, you know –”
Harry watched a ball sail off Posada’s bat only to land in the left field grandstand. Foul ball.
“– because not only do I have to put up with these ridiculous people, and this utterly boring sport –”
Harry shrunk lower into his seat and took a swallow of his beer.
“– but I’m surrounded by the smell of cheap beer and peanuts. PEANUTS! Of all things.”
“I like peanuts,” said the loud woman behind him.
“You would,” Draco snapped back.
She scowled, reached into her pack of peanuts, and threw one at him. With excellent aim. It bounced squarely off his nose.
Harry saw Draco’s hand slipping into his pocket for his wand just in time, and he grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him back into his seat. “Draco, sit down, shut up, and watch the game.”
“Don’t want to,” he said sullenly.
Harry groaned. “Didn’t you say you were going to get me another beer?”
“Well, I –”
Before he could protest further, Harry stood and tugged him to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the exit. “There are booths in the area under the bleachers. Just go get a couple of beers, and bring them back, okay? And please, don’t get into any fights while you’re down there.” He leaned closer to Draco’s ear. “And please don’t take out your wand in front of the Muggles!”
With a gentle push, he sent Draco off to the concession stands and collapsed back into his seat. He felt a hand patting his shoulder, and turned to see Michelle looking at him with a sympathetic expression. “And it’s only the second inning. Are you going to survive?”
“I’m more worried about him.” He inclined his head in the direction Draco had gone. He looked at Yvette, and at the burly, bearded man sitting two seats down from her. He and Yvette were having a lively conversation about “fucking Yankees fans”, and something about “decapitation”. Harry sighed. “Thanks for the beer, anyway. I think I’m going to need a fair few to get through this game without a heart attack, the way Draco is going.”
“Well, he’s not doing very much to help himself, is he?”
“He hasn’t spent much time around Mu – er... Americans.”
Michelle furrowed her eyebrows, but shrugged it off and took a sip of her beer. “Well, that’s kinda obvious. You really should have coached him before bringing him to a ball game.”
“Actually, he brought me.”
“Really? I’m almost impressed. No, strike that... I’m shocked. If he hates it so much, why did he agree to do it?”
“Simple. I spent the last three months begging, cajoling, whining, fussing, pleading, and demanding. And when that didn’t work, I withheld sex.”
“Aaaah. Worked like a charm, didn’t it?”
Harry grinned and downed the last sip of his beer. “You bet.”
“So, what are you doing in America? You’re obviously British, and a recent import at that.”
Harry stole a quick glance at the field before leaning back. “We’re here taking some classes at an American university.”
“Oh really? Which one?”
“Er.. Boston University... hey! Posada just struck out, and we missed it!”
The woman was immediately distracted from questioning him as she joined in with the rest of the cheering crowd, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn’t like lying to people, but the last thing he needed to do was to tell people why he was really there. Avoidance was the best policy. He forced himself to take a deep breath and relax for a minute, just absorbing the sights and sounds. This wasn’t the time to worry. This was his birthday. He was away from the war, away from danger, away from Voldemort. He was sitting in the bleachers at Fenway Park, the Yankees had been held scoreless for another half-inning, Trot Nixon was coming up to bat, it was a sunny day, and he had beer... or had already had one beer. He looked down at his empty cup. “I need another beer. Where the hell is Draco?”
A hand reached past his cheek and pointed down towards the exit to the concessions. “Might I direct your attention to the brawl that’s about to form down in front?” Yvette said.
Harry felt the color drain from his face. “Oh shit!” He dropped his empty cup, jumped over two people in their seats, and half-ran, half-stumbled down the stairs. He skidded to a stop between Draco and a large man wearing a Sox cap. “Draco, what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything! I was bringing back your beer, and I asked this gentleman to let me pass, and he became hostile!”
Harry groaned inwardly and eyed the man Draco had been arguing with. The man bore a slight resemblance to a taller Vernon Dursley, and could easily have turned Draco into a pretzel. “Okay, what really happened?”
The man wasn’t that much taller than Harry, but his sheer girth alone made Harry painfully aware of how bad it would be if he couldn’t appease him. The man took an intimidating step towards Harry. “Your friend here told me to – what were the exact words again? – get my ‘bloody oversized American arse’ out of his way.” He grunted aggressively. “No need to ask twice if he’s a Yankees fan.”
Draco snorted. “How the hell was I supposed to know he had superhuman hearing?”
Harry wanted to cry. Instead, he rolled his eyes skyward and prayed to be struck by lightning before the day could get any worse. “I’m sorry, sir. My friend doesn’t have a proper understanding of manners and etiquette. Here.” He grabbed one of the two beers from Draco and promptly handed it to the man. “On us.”
Before the man could say anything else, Harry took the second beer from Draco, and with drink firmly in hand, dragged his boyfriend back to their seats without another word. When they got there, Michelle was appraising them with a stern expression that reminded Harry of McGonagall, and Yvette was leaning forward on the back of Draco’s seat, smirking evilly.
“Close call, Yankee boy. You’re lucky your boyfriend saved you.”
Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Harry spun him around and forced him into his seat. “Sit. Watch. If you’re good, I’ll buy you some cracker jacks. Now please, just let me enjoy the game?” he pleaded.
Draco mumbled something that included the words “asinine” and “homicidal”.
Harry took a chug of his beer. A very large chug.
With Trot on base, Shea hit a hard ground ball. Trot was thrown out at second, but Shea managed to beat the double-play.
“Fielder’s Choice. Shit,” Yvette grumbled to herself.
“What’s that?” Draco asked. That’s when Harry noticed Draco was actually looking at the field. Not with any degree of appreciation, but at least he was looking.
With a surge of hope and some effort, he managed to occupy Draco with an explanation of a double-play. “So if the ball is hit on the ground, and there’s a runner on first base, you can get the lead runner with a forced-out by tagging the base.”
“Huh?”
“Well, you throw the ball to the second baseman – or the shortstop, depending on where the ball was hit – and that player tags the base while holding the ball.”
“And that does what?”
“It gets the runner out,” Harry explained patiently.
“Wouldn’t you have to tag the runner to get him out? What the… what do you call it… base?... do again?”
“You have to tag the bases on the way around, and… oh damn it, Draco.” Harry sighed. “You can either tag the runner or the base.”
Draco considered this for a minute. “You know what, Harry?”
“What?”
Draco leaned in to speak so that only Harry could hear. “You’re right. The Muggles aren’t stupid. Because it obviously takes some sort of twisted brainpower to understand all the convoluted rules… but they’re definitely insane to have come up with such a game in the first place!”
Harry appraised Draco for a moment. “I think I should give up all hopes of explaining the infield fly rule.”
“The what?”
Harry sighed. “Never mind. Watch the game. You’ll start to figure it out. And here, have some peanuts.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Harry tried a few more times to explain the plays as they happened, and he suspected that Draco understood some of it. More than he’d admit, at any rate. In the very least, he made it through the inning without causing another argument. Fifteen minutes later, the Red Sox had stranded Trot on third and Varitek on first for a scoreless half of the inning, and Harry had drained his second beer of the afternoon.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2005-05-19 07:33 pm (UTC)Harry might have missed it but I doubt anyone else did. WTG Potter. (sarcastic)
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Date: 2005-05-19 07:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-05-19 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2005-05-19 08:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-05-20 01:25 am (UTC)Oh, and Harry trying to explain to Draco about baseball? Sounds familiar! I can't wait to hear him try to explain Tessie! (or will this be a job for "Michelle"?)
Talk to you later ;)
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Date: 2005-05-20 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2005-05-20 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-20 01:25 pm (UTC)*hugs*
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Date: 2005-05-20 07:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-20 08:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-05-21 03:36 am (UTC)enjoyed- despite having absolutely no knowledge of baseball.
In fact, sympathized with poor Draco's lot.
ahahha
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Date: 2005-05-21 03:47 am (UTC)Lovin' it!
Date: 2005-05-22 11:43 am (UTC)Re: Lovin' it!
Date: 2005-06-02 12:58 pm (UTC)"But why's the rum gone?!"
Salutations from Germany,
~P
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Date: 2005-06-03 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-03 07:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-06-18 08:33 am (UTC)Mirror
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Date: 2005-06-18 10:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-27 02:42 am (UTC)This was posted the same day my gf returned from overseas, and I was thus embroiled in my adventure traveling too and from Toronto Pearson International Airport. By the time I was no longer distracted by our reunion after over 8 months apart (which was a few days... *grins*) my poor laptop decided to die... again... Apparently the new motherboard it got at the end of April was faulty...
Anyway, now that I've managed to borrow my sister's old computer and get it set up and connected to the net, well I have over a month's worth of stuff to catch up on.
Anyway, this was my longwinded explination for why I didn't read this and say ages ago "I love this story, Draco is hilarious. I can't wait to read more."
I'm rambling... that's probably a sign I should head to bed, so I will. Night.
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Date: 2005-06-27 04:02 am (UTC)~P
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