Ginny wasn't just pitching a great game. For her, a great game was the ball zinging from her fingertips and straight to Mike's glove like it had no where else to go. No, today she was pitching like her body ached to float from the ground and the only thing grounding her to the mound was her ball. Her nerves were singing with it, the need that each of her three playoff game had been building in her blood, and today it seemed to be pouring out.

She blinked against the sweat dripping into her eyes, cheeks straining from the urge to smile. Two outs and the up to bat, a young Orioles who hid his nerves behind a cocky swing of his bat and a furiously chomping jaw, wouldn't hold up against her cutter.

If Mike would just call it.

She shook him off, cocking an eyebrow. It had been a dance that they'd become even better acquainted with over the last four games. She could feel herself settling into the reservoir of...well she wasn't exactly sure what it was, but it was whipping the behinds of everyone from San Francisco to New York. And Mike wasn't exactly receptive to the idea of her playing her own game, oblivious to everything around her.

She pitched, a blistering throw that brought a grin to her lips before it left her fingertips.

"Strike three!" The umpire exclaimed, "you're out."

With a sigh, Mike pushed up from his crouch, allowing himself ten seconds to shake out his knees before walking up to the mound.

"Let me guess," she started, raising her glove to her mouth to keep him from seeing her smirk. It would only serve to rankle him further, and if she wanted to stay in the game, she would need him on her side. "I'm done."

Rolling his eyes, he dropped the ball into her empty hand. "Last inning of the night, and I swear to God, Baker, you call me off again and I'll kick you off my field so fast it'll make you head spin."

"Big threats," she cooed, casting her gaze over to where the umpire watched them, nose crinkling. "But you want that ring just as much as I do."

"Ginny – " he grunted.

"You're the boss." She finished for him.

He bit down on his lip, torn between a scolding and a different sort of tongue lashing.

"Fine, your play," she conceded, "for the most part."

"That's all I ask."

She rolled her neck, eyes bumping against his back as he jogged back to home plate. Blowing out, she flicked her wrist, ball at the ready and begging to be thrown. She'd say let the games begin, but as far as she was concerned, it was already won.

"I don't know what happened to you out there, Baker," Al said not an hour later, clapping a hand down onto her arm, "but you keep pitching just like that and we may have a shot at taking this thing."

Ginny shook out her shoulders, that same hovering feeling messing with her focus now that her adrenaline was dying away. There was nothing to keep her on Earth now that the game was finished and her body was caught between bone-aching exhaustion and buzzing elation. "Just doing my job, Skip."

"A damn good one."

"Almost like the rest of us don't even need to show up," Tommy joked, draping a towel around his neck. "Least of all Lawson over there."

"You even get off the bench tonight, Miller?" Ginny shot back, her knee bumping against Mike's.

"You're cold," he replied, lobbing one of his shoes at her. "Ice queen."

"Brrr," she shivered, rolling her eyes at the laugh she'd earned. "Come on, I need a beer after all this 'hard work', and someone else better be buying. But first," she stood, "I'm gonna get changed. You guys gonna be gentlemen or do I have to find my own ride to the bar?"

"We'll wait," Blip slung his bag over his shoulder, "try not to take too long?"

"I'll do as I please."

"Right," he laughed, "come on boys, if we're gonna be here a while then I might as well show some of you how to actually catch a ball."

"Lookin' at you, Salvi."

"Duerte's been running his mouth," Salvamani snarled playfully, throwing a quick punch at Livan and laughing as his newest teammate dodged.

"I'm a catcher," Livan sang, bouncing on his toes and weaving between the guys, "my job is literally to catch a ball."

"Sounds like that's on all of our resumes," Miller grinned.

Coming up behind him, Livan snatched the hat from Miller's head. "Yes," he replied, his smile mischievous, "but I look best doing it, no?"

Blip's eyes locked with Miller's. "No," they cried together, Blip's arm locking around Livan's neck and tugging him forward. Mike watched them go, a chuckle caught in his throat. Turned out Ginny wasn't the only one buzzing with the rush of the last few hours, letting the last of it bubble over and into what could be an eventful night.

Maybe she was just the only one finished deflating.

Mike glanced at his girl, eyebrow cocking at her obvious fight to keep her eyes from fluttering close. "You don't have to go out."

"You," she stopped, mouth widening into a yawn, "are buying me my first drink." Ginny rested her forehead on his shoulder, a groan escaping past her lips. "After just a really quick nap." Straightening, she reached up and ripped her hair from its ponytail. "You're not trying to skip out, are you?"

"After a win like tonight," he rolled his shoulders, careful to keep his fatigue from mirroring hers, "no way."

Ginny nodded, rallying the last bits of her energy. "Come on then, Old Man. Let's get our party on."

Holding back a smile, Mike dutifully averted his eyes as she yanked off her jersey and left it in a puddle at his feet. She pulled up her leggings, wiggling her hips and letting out a sigh of relief.

"Slob," he murmured, slipping the warm fabric over onto the waiting purple hanger. She twisted, shooting him a smile before pushing her arms into the sweatshirt that had been hanging in the back of his closet this morning.

"You love it," she joked, toeing on her sneakers before whipping back around. She bit her lip, nose crinkling at the look he was giving her, unreadable in its openness, in the vulnerability that she wasn't exactly sure how to decipher. "What, I got dirt on my face again?"

He blinked, startling from whatever thoughts were unspooling in his gaze. "Um," he cleared his throat, "yeah." He pushed up from the bench, jaw ticking with the effort it took to mask his expression. "You ready?"

She took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, before nodding. "Yep."

The team stood by a row of idling cars, chatting amiably even as knees bounced and eyes snapped impatiently over to their watches. "Finally," Blip crowed, his lips stretching into a smile at the sight of Mike and Ginny walking towards them, seeming for all the world a pair of tired but happy teammates ready to celebrate their victory. Whatever it was he'd seen before the playoffs began had long since disappeared, a glimmer that he must have imagined.

And yet, the suspicion that had wormed its way to the back of his braid just wouldn't leave.

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny droned, nudged him from the door, "girls take forever, blah blah blah. You're getting boring, Blip." She tossed a wink over her shoulder, and Mike felt that familiar thrill of pride that always came when Ginny was just so…her (strong, beautiful, defiantly willful whether on the field or ribbing her teammates).

"This is your fault," Blip grumbled to Mike, a smile twitching on his lips, "she was less of a pain before she met you."

"Come on," Mike came up behind Blip, tossing his arm over his friend's shoulder, "How 'bout I buy you some wings?"

"You're gonna buy me all the wings," Blip sniffed, following Ginny into the car and stretching out beside her.

"And a boatload of fries!" Ginny crowed, rubbing her stomach and letting out a moan that was nearly filthy.

"All right, settle down," Mike said, stopping the conversation before it devolved into a reading of the bar menu and Ginny drooling onto Blip's lap. "I'll feed you both if you pipe down and let me nap."

"You beautiful, aging bastard," Blip smiled, the edge of his knuckles rasping against Mike's chin.

The rest of the ride continued in the same vein, Ginny and Blip trading barbs as Mike rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair.

"Hilarious," he said, cutting Blip off in the middle of what was becoming a particularly involved joke about nursing homes and sponge baths, and twirling his finger in the air. "Christ Blip, you think of these all on the spot or write them down for later?"

"A mix of both." Blip said after a moment of consideration. The car came to a stop, the squeal of the tires drowning out Ginny's horsey giggle. Traitor.

"Out of the car," he ordered, reaching over them both to push the door open, "now."

"Give him a break," Ginny leapt onto the curb, "his brittle bones couldn't handle him wandering into traffic, huh?"

"Really, the both of you, a bunch of comedians."

They found the rest of the team huddled together around a table with a waitress buzzing around them, somehow managing the chaos around her with a smile on her face. It was easy to see the space carved out for them, so Ginny plunked down into the nearest seat, grabbing at the closest menu once Mike had taken his place to her right.

"How can I help you guys?"

"Yeah," Mike said, an easy grin curving on his lips as the waitress leaned in close to him, "let me get three beers, an order of nachos and – "

" – Fries," Ginny added, craning towards him.

"All the fries you can carry." He winked, Ginny's hand warm on his thigh.

"That all I can get you, Mr. Lawson?" She asked, her gaze laser focused on Mike. Ginny quirked an eyebrow, feeling her back stiffen as Mike's smile seemed to stretch.

"Mr. Lawson," Mike repeated, brushing his thumb against his nose, "I like that. And yeah, I'm good."

"So good," Ginny drawled, "I'm okay too. Just in case you were curious."

"I'll be right back," the waitress, Savannah her nametag read, simpered, tucking her notepad against her chest.

"Seems someone's playing a completely different game," Voorhees whooped, watching wistfully as Savannah walked away. Ginny's eyes narrowed at the extra swing in her hips.

"And, from the looks of it, winning too."

Mike smirked, tossing an arm over the back of Ginny's chair and popping out his hips. "Not everyone can be the greatest catcher the game's seen. Duerte, you might want to take notice."

"The greatest?" Ginny asked, her voice ticking up as she bumped his arm from her seat. "I wouldn't say that, but the cockiest? Most definitely." She crossed one leg over the other, lips pursing as he inched in closer to her.

"You wound, Baker."

Ginny let herself be pulled into the conversation beside her, only looking back to her smug boyfriend once Savannah sashayed back to the table, setting Mike's order down with a giggle and fluttering lashes.

"You let me know if you need anything else," she cooed, setting a lingering hand down on Mike's shoulder. "Anything for a Padre."

"Sure thing," he replied, "but you make sure you take care of the rest of my team, all right? You know, all us Padres, we're family."

"Of course." With a nod, Savannah sprang away, turning to shot him one last dazzling smile.

"Of course," Ginny echoed, nose flaring as Mike bit back a laugh. She waited until the rest of the guys were distracted before closing the space between them. "You are in so much trouble."

"Can't wait," he shot back with a wink.

"You were jealous!" Mike cried from the bathroom, toothpaste dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Was not!"

"Were too," he spat into the sink, tapping the edge of his toothbrush against the faucet. "My fan club doesn't do it for you anymore, but Savannah from Joe's suddenly got you foaming at the mouth?"

Ginny glanced up from her cell phone, her glare loosing some of it's steam as her lips ticked up into a smile. "If anyone was foaming at the mouth, it was you neanderthals as Savannah offered to serve you."

"Serve us, baby," Mike grinned, crawling onto the bed beside her, "or did you forget the fries?"

"Nope," she batted at his chin as he tried to sneak a kiss, "nor did I forget how she came to the table a staggering ten times to ask if you needed anything else. Another refill on an already full drink, some extra ketchup, maybe some under the table action?"

"You're so jealous," Mike snatched her phone and dropped it onto the comforter, his chest warming at the sound of her squeal as he gathered her in his arms. "It's pretty cute."

His lips slotted into the hollow of her neck. "I'm a grown woman, Lawson. Attractive, hot, a fucking sex goddess!"

"And unbelievably adorable, Baker, deal with it."

She twisted, draping her legs over his and snaking her arms around his neck. "And if I were just the tiniest bit jealous," she started, adopting the flirtatious look Savannah had worn the entire evening, "you would make me feel better?"

With his head cocked to the side, Mike pressed a soft kiss to her upturned chin. "Let me answer your question with a question," he countered. "How would I go about that?"

"Quite easily." She pushed him back, her thighs resting on either side of his hips.

But just as she was about to go in for the kiss, she paused, eyes searching his face for the minute shift in expression that had flashed across his face just seconds before. He'd masked it just as quickly as it had appeared, a near decade of chronic pain finally working in his favor, but she'd spent too long watching him, first to idolize him and then because she couldn't help but look back at him the same way he looked at her. Sometimes it felt like she knew his tells better than she knew herself.

"What's going on?" She asked, hair falling over her face and tickling his cheeks.

"Well, I think it's called foreplay, Baker, but you tell me."

She'd been too focused during the game to really catch it, but with a recap reeling through her mind, she couldn't help but take note of each grimace and frustrated scowl. It had been a great game, but there had been moments where he couldn't quite stifle the pain, where his swing came up short or a throw just slipped past his hand. Where he wasn't as quick, as assured.

And he'd tried to bring that edge over to her mound. Nope, they both wouldn't get through the playoffs like this.

She sat back, a frown marring her lips. "You're hurting. And don't you dare lie."

The muscle in his jaw jumped as he matched her frown, pushing up and doing nothing to hide his wince. "No more than usual."

"And now usual means more pain?" His shoulders bounced as he shrugged. "All right," she jumped off his lap, "no more of that."

"Come on," he cried, arms flopping at his side, "I've still got a few more rounds in me."

Ginny shook her head, pulling back the covers and staring pointedly at the sheets below until he huffed out a sigh and followed suit. "Tomorrow, we're going to the clubhouse early and you're going to see a doctor."

"So, what? They can try to pull me?"

"Or," she shot back, "you don't break a hip with all your posturing."

"Good to know I'm dating a doctor know."

"You won't be dating anyone if you don't listen to me." She switched the lights off, sliding in beside him and turning onto her side. "Don't be stupid."

"I liked jealous Ginny better. Bossy Ginny is a pain in my ass."

"Better than in the back."

.

..

...

A/N: Hey, sorry for the long wait. This was supposed to be part of a longer chapter, but stupid me got stuck in a stupid rut, so now here's some Padre team building and Bawson domesticity to tide you over until I figure out where I'm going!