A/N Set sometime after 1x5. Bawson. Sending lots of love and thanks to WildIrish for introducing me to Pitch and for giving me a solid assist with this story.

When Mike Lawson goes on the MLB Disabled List, most of his fans assume he's missing the Diamondback series at Petco because of a bad knee flare up or a thrown back. The truth isn't nearly as glamorous.

Mike has the flu.

He spends the first twelve hours sprawled on his couch with an old mop bucket nestled between his thighs and a prayer for death on his lips. Things get a little better when Oscar sends the team doctor over and Mike drinks the vile liquid 'cure' offered. He sleeps after that – not well, but at least he isn't hurling every five minutes.

By day two, he is able to sit up for short periods of time. He can hold down water and the occasional saltine cracker. He still feels like a pile of shit, but he turns on Sports Center to see if he's been missing out on anything important in the world of baseball.

Turns out he's missed a lot.

Mike's usual back up, Livan Duarte, is also on the disabled list thanks to a pickup game of basketball and a torn ACL. Instead of Duarte, some hotshot named Bobby Carrol had been called up from the minors to fill in as San Diego's catcher until Mike is better. The Sports Center segment is less than thirty seconds long, and only half of that is an interview with the kid, but Mike does not like what he sees. Bobby Carrol is young and cocky and if Mike is honest – kind of reminds him of himself at that age. Little shit even has a beard that looks annoyingly familiar. Mike hates him on sight, even if he is as good a catcher as the announcers suggest.

It's when the ESPN guys tease that Bobby Carrol might be Mike Lawson 2.0; that Mike Lawson 1.0 freaks a little.

But then he has to lie down because his head is pounding and his stomach is churning like a twister in Kansas, and he decides he'll deal with his much younger evil twin later.

When Lawson wakes up again, the TV is still on. He flips to tonight's Diamondbacks/Padres game and settles in to watch his friends play. He passes out in the second inning and doesn't wake until the bottom of the 9th when Blip sends a walk off homerun into the stands at Petco. The crowd goes wild and Mike can't help but smile.

His happiness fades when he catches a glimpse of Bobby Carrol slapping Ginny Baker's ass in celebration as the crowd swarms around Blip. "She doesn't like that," Mike mutters. His brow furrows when he sees that she doesn't admonish the young catcher the way she had him for doing the same thing.

Maybe Baker is just caught up in the moment? She's clearly ecstatic for Blip. Maybe she'll rip Carrol a new one once they hit the locker room? Or maybe she likes the new catcher better than her old one? Mike shakes his head as something that feels a lot like jealousy begins to boil in his gut.

"Shit." Maybe Mike just needs sleep…

Mike wakes the next morning to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He blearily looks at the screen before accepting the call. "Hey, Oscar."

"Mike, how ya doing? The doc figures you'll be down for the count for a few days. Just making plans for next week. The guys will have two days off after the D-Back series and then they'll be off to Colorado. You gonna be able to play by then?"

Mike sits up slowly. The room spins and he closes his eyes. "Yeah. Well, maybe. I don't know."

"No hurry. The new guy is doing fine. Call me when you're feeling better and we'll get the doc to clear you to play."

Mike opens his mouth to reply but the line is dead. He thinks about calling Oscar back, but decides against it. He sends a text to Blip instead. GREAT HR LAST NIGHT.

Maybe a minute passes before he gets a reply. THANKS MAN. WISH YOU WERE THERE. HOW R U

BETTER EVERY DAY. HOWS THE NEW GUY?

HES ALLRIGHT. TAKN US TO LUNCH NOW. GOTTA GO.

Mike stares at his phone, frustrated. Lunch with the newbie? What the hell is going on? He decides to sleep til tonight's game. Baker will be pitching and he wants to see how she's doing. Before he got sick, he'd been helping her with her slider. He wonders if she's letting the new guy help her now.

Mike grits his teeth and lies down.

The sun is setting when Mike wakes up from his nap, and he feels better. He's not at 100% back to normal yet, but he's close. He stretches and looks around. The puke bucket is still sitting at his feet and it reeks. Disgusted, he takes it to the bathroom and rinses it out. He's still a little wobbly, but finds he has the strength to pick up the empty water bottles and used Kleenex that are littering his living room. He'll call his cleaning lady in the morning to take care of the rest.

Mike grabs a Gatorade and a sleeve of crackers and plops down on the couch as the game begins. Baker gives up a triple in the bottom of the second. "What the hell?" he yells at the television. If he were there, he'd go to the mound and talk to her about changing the angle of her –

His train of thought derails as he watches Bobby Carrol swagger to the mound with the cocky self-assurance that only a twenty-five year old can muster. When Carrol talks to Baker, he leans in close, whispering in her ear instead of just face to face with the glove over his mouth. He uses the glove to hide the side of his face, instead. This allows him to move in close – too close. Mike imagines what would happen if he did that when he walked to the mound to talk to Baker. He thinks about the way it would feel if his lips brushed against her ear. Mike wonders if she would like the brush of his beard on her cheek…

"Should be my beard. Not his." He mutters, realizing only after the words are out, that he means them.

What's wrong with him? She's just a girl. No. That's not fair. Baker is a woman, not a girl. She is young though, and he shouldn't be feeling anything for her. He shouldn't and he knows that, but he also knows that hiding how he feels is the worst kind of bullshit. She's been on his radar since their first meeting. When she enters a room, his heart beat surges.

When he'd talked to his ex, she'd said he was looking for something else. Amelia had told him his heart was never with her to begin with. What if they're both right? What if it's been Ginny for a while now, and he just didn't face the truth?

One thing is certain. Ginny Baker is under his skin.

Mike turns his focus back to the television screen and watches as Ginny flashes Carrol a smile after their talk. It's one of those classic Baker smiles that kinda melts his heart. Mike loves that smile, but he does not like it aimed at the new guy. Mike shakes his head. "Hell, no."

He stands and as soon as his knees stop creaking, he begins to pace. Mike pauses in his back and forth trek across the living room to analyze every one of Baker's pitches. She's actually having a great night and although he hates to admit it, she and Carrol work well together. Knowing this is true doesn't make Mike want to rip off the guy's head any less, though.

The game is a nail biter but Ginny stays in til the seventh inning, only having given up the one run in the first. The Padres have two runs, so this is Ginny's game to lose. Mingo, the left handed reliever, gets them through the eighth. There's a scare with a hard hit line drive that gets the D-Backs shortstop onto second, but the inning closes with no additional score. After that, the closer Salazar delivers three solid K's in the final inning for the Padre win.

Even though he's still pissed about Bobby Carrol, Mike is so fucking happy for Baker, he can't help but grin. ESPN follows the final game of the D-Back series with some on the field coverage. The reporter is a leggy blond who once gave Mike a personal interview, wearing nothing but his glove. He shoves that thought aside to focus on the interview itself. They are half way through a series of questions for Baker about the game when Carrol sidles up and stands at her side. Way too close, in Mike's opinion.

The reporter moves her mic to a spot in front of Carrol's chin. "So, what did you think of Ginny's game tonight, Bobby?"

Bobby Carrol nods and smiles and wraps an arm around Baker's shoulders before answering. "This woman is amazing." He winks at the girl with the mic. "Good ball player too. Makes me wish I was playing on this team permanently." He looks at Ginny but she is clearly flustered and makes a point of not meeting his gaze. It's probably a good thing she isn't looking. Mike seethes as he watches the way the young catcher eyes Baker.

Mike turns off the television as his pulse throbs in his ears and his mind swirls with dark thoughts about Bobby Carrol and the best way to send his sorry ass back to the minor league as soon as possible. The trouble is that Mike just doesn't have the strength to do anything at all. Not yet.

Frustrated and angry, he goes to bed. The last thought he has before drifting to sleep is how beautiful the smile on Ginny Baker's face had been and how much he wishes he'd been there to see it in person.

Day four on the DL and Mike Lawson wakes up feeling like a new man. Well, a new man who hasn't bathed in days and smells like a landfill. He takes a shower and then goes to the kitchen where he makes himself breakfast. He eats his egg white omelet and whole wheat toast slowly, just in case, but it seems that his stomach bug has passed.

He calls Oscar and sets up some time with the team doc in the afternoon and with the physical therapist after that. He'll need to do some serious work to get back to where he needs to be if he's going to play the Rockies. He dresses and heads to the club. The locker room is mostly empty. A couple of the young guys are on their phones in a corner and Mingo is reading a Sports Illustrated.

After Mike's meetings with the Doc and PT, he gets in a work out. It's not a Ginny Baker level workout, but he is under strict orders to ease back into his routine. It feels good to be doing something other than lie on a couch and be sick and his muscles hum which puts him in a good mood.

He's actually smiling an hour later when he walks out of the shower room with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. The smile fades when he sees Baker talking to none other than Mike Lawson 2.0.

"You're back," she says, as her own smile falters.

Bobby Carrol stands tall and holds out a hand to Mike. "Hey man, I'm a big fan. Had your poster on my wall when I was a kid."

Mike's towel slides lower, but he catches it with one hand as he shakes the kid's hand with the other. "Yeah, a lot of kids did." He glances at Baker and sees that her gaze is glued to the precarious placement of his towel. He lets it slip another couple of inches. Serves her right.

Bobby clears his throat. "So, you're back now? Going to Denver?"

Mike nods. "Yeah, doc gave me the all clear today. Hope you had fun while you were here." His tone suggests that he truly hopes no such thing.

Bobby Carrol ignores the tone and glances over at Baker with a grin. "Yeah. I really did. Everybody was great, but Baker – well, she's special." Bobby nods in her direction. "Easily the best pitcher I've worked with."

Mike stares coldly. "You should go talk to Al. He'll have your paperwork."

"Uh, yeah. Okay. I suppose I need to talk to Al."

"I think he's in his office."

"Well, it was good to meet you, Lawson."

"Yeah, kid. You too. Need me to autograph that poster?" Mike's dig at the younger catcher doesn't go unnoticed.

"Nah. It's long gone. Replaced it with one of Varitek back in the day. Don't suppose you know him?"

Mike doesn't bother to answer but he pointedly watches as Bobby leaves and then he turns to Baker. She's biting her lip and he can't help but notice that her eyes are once again focused on his towel.

"Miss me, Baker?" his voice has a rough edge to it although he's not sure she notices. He takes a step forward and at the time lets the towel slip even farther. The muscular V is now on full display as is a fringe of black hair that peeks out over the terrycloth.

Baker tears her gaze away. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Whatever. You're really playing in Colorado?"

"Yeah. I really am."

She stays where she is, making an effort avert her gaze from the riveting site of Mike Lawson's towel. "Feeling better, huh?"

"Yeah. Was rough for a day or so, but I'm officially recovered. Doc even says so." He smirks when he notices the way she's trying not to look. She's doing a shitty job of it. "Eyes are up here, Baker."

Her eyes flash to his and he watches her cheeks flame. "No idea what you're talking about, old man."

He feigns an attempt to untie the already precariously hanging towel. "Hey, if you really want to see more of this old man, I can show you..." He laughs at the look on her face as she whirls and heads for the door.

It is only after she's gone that he begins to kick himself for being an asshole.

That night Mike finds himself at her door, knocking tentatively and clutching a bouquet of wildflowers. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, feeling like the biggest jerk of all time. Ever since the Club House, he'd been feeling guilty. It wasn't Baker's fault that he'd reacted poorly to the kid. None of it was her fault, and he wants to apologize.

This is why he's standing on her dark porch wishing she'd open the damned door. He knocks again.

Mike is poised to turn when the door opens and there she is. She's wearing loose gray sweats and a pale pink sweatshirt with a stretched collar which hangs down over one bare bronze shoulder.

He gulps, staring at the shoulder. "How very Flashdance of you," he says and then clamps his mouth shut.

"What?" she looks confused and he realizes that he probably dodged a bullet there. One of the many benefits to chatting with someone her age is that they may not recognize inappropriate pop cultural references from before they were born.

Mike shakes his head. "Nothing. Can I come in?"

She crosses her arms and tilts her chin defiantly. "Why? Gonna strip down for me again?"

He feels some of the nervous tension ease out of his shoulders and smiles. "Maybe if you ask nice."

She rolls her eyes, turns and walks into her hotel suite, leaving the door open in invitation. He follows.

"What's with the flowers?"

"Wanted to say I was sorry for earlier."

"For acting like a immature high school bully?"

He shifts uneasily. "Yeah, I guess. I'm sorry. That kid –"

"Bobby? What about him? He was nice. Kind of reminded me of you, actually."

Mike clamps his eyes shut. "No. Don't say that."

She watches him for a while. "Is that it? You didn't like it when they said he was a younger YOU? All that 2.0 stuff?"

"It rankled." He shrugs.

"Get over it, old man." Ginny chuckles and takes the flowers from him. She walks to the kitchen portion of the space and begins looking in cupboards. "He was only here for a little while. He was a nice guy and a big fan of yours. You should be honored."

Mike watches as Baker's Flashdance shirt slides up when she reaches for a vase on a high shelf. He fights the urge to walk over and lick a stripe across all that exposed flesh on her lower back. "So, uh, did you compare notes about me? Decide who was my bigger fan? Maybe which one of you had a bigger poster?"

She scowls at him over her shoulder. "You aren't very good at apologizing, are you?"

"I guess not." He sits down on her couch and stares at his feet. "I really am sorry though."

"Yeah, okay."

"Am I forgiven?"

She arranges the flowers carefully, leaning in to inhale their sweet aroma. Her eyes close briefly and a small smile flutters across her face. "Probably."

"Yeah? Good." He sinks into the cushions as relief settles into his soul. "Good game last night by the way. Except that triple you gave up in the first –"

She holds up her hand. "I know. I know. My angle was all off on that one. Bobby told me as much."

Mike's expression darkens. "What did Bobby say, exactly?"

"Told me I was showing too much of the pitch to my hitter. Said I needed to keep it close until it was time to release." She shrugs. "Same kind of stuff you tell me. He was just being helpful."

Mike stands up and walks to a window. He moves the curtain aside and looks out at the darkness which is broken only by shafts of light from the streetlamps. "What else did Bobby help you with?"

Ginny leans back against her counter and crosses her arms. "Lawson, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous."

He turns slowly and looks at her, his gaze burning into hers. "I guess… I guess, maybe I am." Mike watches her eyes widen in surprise and the humor in her expression fades away. He feels something stirring deep within and he knows that no matter what happens tonight, something big is shifting between them.

She swallows hard and looks away but it's like she can't focus on anything but him and soon her eyes are meeting his once more. "Jealous that I was working with another catcher?"

Mike takes a step forward and then another. "Maybe. On ESPN he said he wanted to work with you all the time. He implied he has a lot to teach you."

"And that bothered you?" Her voice is unsure.

"Yeah."

"Because?"

"You and I. We work good together, right? I'm your Captain and you're my Rookie and it's good like that."

"Yes, it is. So why did you care what anyone else says?"

He shakes his head, frustrated. "I don't know. I just didn't like that kid coming in and acting like he was taking my place. Didn't want to lose my place on the team, even for a few days. Didn't want to lose what you and I have."

"Are we still talking about baseball?" Baker bites her lip and tilts her head slightly.

"Yeah, I mean of course we are. What else would we be talking about? It's not like there's anything else - like there ever could be."

Ginny tightens her jaw and sighs. "I get it. This isn't about me at all. This is about you getting older and not liking some young guy who reminds people of you from ten years ago coming in and helping me with pitches or whatever. So I was working with him for a few days, who cares?"

"Fine. Maybe it isn't just about baseball." He runs a hand through his hair. "Maybe sometimes I wish there was something else and maybe I was jealous and I know that's stupid and I'm sorry."

Her eyes are wide. Her lips part. "Why is that stupid?"

Mike's heart lurches. Surely she's not giving him an opening here. "Because you're the first female pitcher in the MLB. I'm your catcher, your Captain. It would be wrong. It would be wrong even if I wasn't a lot older than you are." Hearing the arguments against wanting her somehow makes him want her more. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here." He turns to go.

She follows him to the door and puts a hand on his arm. "Wait. Tell me what you came here to say. You say I'm not Bobby's Rookie. Fine. Now tell me what I am, Mike Lawson. Tell me what I am to you."

He faces her and finds breathing is difficult. She is so beautiful and perfect but she's so much more than that too. She's the one he wants to talk to when things go wrong. She's the one he wants to talk to when things go right. She's become far more than a fellow player. "What you are to me?" he asks roughly.

She nods. "I want to know."

"Well, you aren't Bobby Carrol's Rookie. You aren't his anything. You are my Rookie, my legacy." He hesitates when he sees her jaw tighten. "But also you are more." He steps close enough that his body is mere inches from hers. With a gentle touch, he slides a calloused fingertip along her jaw line. He relishes her responding shiver. "So much more. You are - "

"I'm what?" She asks again, her breath is coming harder now, her chest rising and falling as her body hums in response to his touch.

Seeing evidence of Ginny's arousal urges Mike on like nothing else ever could. He brushes his lips across hers with a feather light touch, savoring the softness and her sharp intake of breath. "You're mine, Baker. You. Are. Mine."

He doesn't wait for a reply before pressing his lips against hers again. This kiss isn't soft. It's urgent and needy and the product of unmet need and sexual frustration the likes of which he's never known before.

He slides his tongue into her mouth and groans when she bites down playfully. Mike pulls back in surprise and looks into her eyes which sparkle with mischief and unadulterated lust. "So even though it's probably a terrible idea, you want this too?"

"Yeah, old man. I do." It's her turn to initiate a kiss and she doesn't hold back, nibbling at his lips and swirling her tongue with his in a way that drives him absolutely insane.

"Don't old man me, Baker. This is serious."

"Yeah, I can tell." She bumps her hips against his and grins as she feels his erection through their clothing.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Rookie. Just wait til I –"

Ginny slides her hand along the fabric covered shaft. Her smile falters. "Well, then I guess you do still have a lot to show me. And since we're being honest here, I gotta tell you that the towel was killing me. Kinda been thinking about it all day."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." She explores his cock through the fabric of his jeans, purring as it grows harder in her hand. "Wow."

"Wow?" Mike feels beads of sweat collecting on his brow. Fighting the urge to hump her curious fingers is almost more than he can bear.

"You're so big. Maybe too big."

"Trust me." He takes her mouth with his again, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips to get added friction from her hand. "We'll make it work."

She mewls against his mouth and begins to pull his tee shirt up. Her fingers trail along his heated skin as she works it over his head before tossing it aside with a hum of approval. Ginny's fingers are everywhere, worshiping his pecs and abdominals.

Not to be outdone, Mike slides his hands up under the Flashdance shirt, and groans in appreciation when he finds her perfect tits unfettered by a bra. He rubs gentle circles to the tender mounds, tweaking softly at her nipples. When he speaks, his voice is reverent. "You, Ginny Baker, are perfect."

"Not so bad yourself. But, maybe we should go to my room?"

"Eager much?" He feigns cocky bravado but in his heart, Mike knows he's done. Lost. Gone. This beautiful, perfect girl wants him and if he dies tomorrow, he'll die a happy man.

She grins playfully. "You know this won't be your first time in my bed…"

"Pretty sure I'd remember if I'd been there before."

Ginny grasps his hand and pulls him along behind her. "Well, technically it might have been all in my imagination, but you've definitely been here before. Lots of times."

"All good times, I hope?"

She flashes him an answering grin and in that moment he knows he's in love with her.

They come to a stop at the bed with his front flush to her back. They both look at the expanse of the bed and he strokes her sides lightly, leaning in to kiss the curve of her throat. His voice is little more than a whisper. "Hope the real thing meet up to your expectations."

"Doing good so far." She tilts her head to the side, giving him more access to her neck. He finds her sweet spot and her knees buckle.

Mike catches her easily, his arms wrapping around her waist as he turns them both and launches them into the bed where they land in a messy heap. His knees will pay for that move later, but Ginny giggles at the suddenness of it so it's worth whatever comes later.

Making her happy will always be worth it. She makes everything worth it. He watches her laugh and his heart swells with the reality of this thing that is actually happening. He doesn't deserve to be in Baker's arms or in her bed, but here he is and there is nowhere else he'd rather be.

Baker must see something in his eyes, because when she really looks at him, her smile fades. She reaches up and strokes his beard. "I'm really glad you're here, Lawson."

"Me too." He nibbles her ear lobe before trailing little kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. He pulls at the hem of the pink shirt and she helps him remove it. They quickly dispose of the rest of their clothing as well.

Ginny reaches to pull him close but he stops her. "No. I want to see you." Mike leans back on one elbow and uses his free hand to trace lines on her body. Her skin is soft, but her muscles are defined and toned. She's like a statue in a museum, sculpted by God himself. Mike sighs contentedly as he takes in the view. Baker's skin is a luscious mocha that begs to be tasted. He uses an index finger to tease a nipple until it puckers into a tight little bud.

She bites back a moan as his fingers drift down over her belly and then around to cup her ass. As he strokes the perfectly firm globe, he leans in and takes a nipple between his lips, licking and sucking like it is the sweetest candy. She arches her back and grasps her other breast, squeezing it firmly.

Mike slides his fingers between her legs and groans when he discovers how wet she is. Her velvety lips are slick with need and he loves knowing that he's the reason she is this turned on. He slips a finger slowly into Ginny's heat and then a second. She's tight but as he begins to fuck her slowly with his fingers, he can feel her pussy flowering open slowly.

Ginny whimpers and tilts her pelvis to urge him deeper. He strokes her clit with his thumb and works a third finger inside before increasing his pace, watching as she nears release. Her body tenses and quakes around his fingers. Mike is no stranger to getting women off, but watching Baker in the throes of climax awes him. He wants to do it again. He wants to do it for the rest of his life.

She collapses against him, boneless and sated. "Lawson?"

"Yeah?"

"That was…"

He grins, peppering soft kisses along her brow. "Good?"

"Mmmm yeah. Very good." She reaches down, stroking along his ribcage and over his hip. Her touch is light but sure as she makes her way to his throbbing cock. Grasping it firmly, she kisses his mouth, biting lightly at his lower lip. She leans back slightly, smiling. Her grip is warm and tight and he wants more. She seems to read his mind. "Seems like it's your turn to be taken care of," she says.

Mike nods. "Need to –"

"Oh, I know what you need." She pushes him onto his back and smoothly lifts a leg over to straddle his lower belly. His cock rests painfully hard against her ass. "You may make the calls on the field. In here, we can take turns."

He groans as she lifts and lines him up. She carefully covers the flushed tip of his dick with the drenched lips of her pussy. She hovers there, watching him with blown pupils. He reaches for her hips but she shakes him off and he laughs - the sound is a perfect mix of amusement and pain.

"Please, Baker. Need you now."

Ginny nods quickly and then bites her lip as she eases lower. Mike sees the sheer concentration on her face that is tempered with uncertainty and he understands. She wants this as much as he does, but she really is hung up on his size. He strokes her thighs, loving the feel of her muscles tensed as she inches slowly down. Mike caresses her slowly, ignoring the instinct to buck upward. He doesn't rush her. Won't. Can't. No matter how much he wants to be buried balls deep, he wants her happiness more.

His gaze is drawn to where his cock is pushing into her tight heat. She's only taken four inches. She still has a ways to go, but she's so fucking tight, Mike can't think straight. "First time, Rookie?"

She shakes her head. "No, but it's been a while."

"Maybe rock a little." He chokes out.

She does as he says, tilting her pelvis forward and back. Mike groans and his fingers dig into her thighs as she works her way farther down. This is working. With every movement, she takes him in deeper. Their bodies are both covered with a gleaming sheen of sweat. Her eyes are dark with need and her breathing is ragged.

"Damn it, Baker." Mike closes his eyes, on the verge of losing every shred of control he's been clinging to. "Feel so good. So damn tight. So hot."

"Mmmmm," she purrs as she finally, blissfully, bottoms out and then slides up his cock almost as slowly as she'd gone down. Her pussy has adjusted to his size and she's so wet that he is now slick with her need for him. She speeds up her pace, fucking him with studied determination and long smooth strokes.

Mike reaches up and grasps her tits with his hands. He squeezes and molds them between his fingers and tweaks her nipples. He trails his hands down over her flat belly and to the perfectly groomed Holy Land between her thighs. He finds her clit and strokes it with a calloused thumb.

She holds his gaze as she rides him. More is being said without words than ever has been said with them. He understands that this isn't just some quick fuck for her either and he feels his heart clench with something that feels a lot like hope. It doesn't take long before he's not thinking about anything except her pussy and the way it clutches his cock.

"Faster," he says.

She speeds up. Her tits bounce with the movements and he can't help himself - bad back or not. He moves up to a sitting position. She adjusts, spreading her legs wider without stopping. He takes a dusky nipple between his teeth and begins to suck on it urgently.

He has one arm wrapped around her back. He takes his other hand and finds her clit. He brushes it with teasing little strokes. This is the thing that sends Baker right over the edge.

Ginny's body begins to quake. "Yes," she moans as her cunt greedily quivers and pulses around his cock. Mike is sure he's never witnessed anything more beautiful than this woman when she comes. She slows almost to a standstill, dazed by the intensity of her second orgasm.

He has to remind her that one of them isn't done. "Just a little bit more," he urges, pushing into her heated flesh with his fingers, urging her upward again. She moves but not fast enough for Mike's taste. Her grasps her hips, yanks her down hard enough that his cock shoves into her cervix before he flips her over and begins to plow her sweet pussy.

"Jesus, Ginny." He only manages a few more thrusts before he pulls out and jacks himself until he comes, spraying ropey white stripes across the supple brown skin of her belly.

Mike falls to the bed at her side. They lie there for a while, just staring into each other's eyes. Finally Baker breaks the silence. "You were wrong, you know."

"About what?"

"I may be your Rookie, but I'm not yours."

Mike feels his happiness begin to fade. "Baker, I didn't mean that like it sounded. I'm –"

"Let me finish." She smiles. "I'm not yours, at least not just that. On the field and in the Clubhouse, I am your Rookie and you are my Captain. But in here…" She motions around the bedroom. "In here, we're equals. I am yours but only because you are also mine."

"I like the sound of that." He pulls her close and she snuggles into his embrace. "But what are you suggesting, exactly?"

"Teammates, I guess? On and off the field."

If he hadn't already figured out that he loves her, he'd be sure now. He sighs contentedly. "I like that. I like it a lot." He feels the way her body relaxes, melting into him like a second skin. As her breathing settles into slumber, he reflects on how things have changed. He thinks back over the months he's known her and how much she has changed him. He remembers all the times she made him smile. All the times she drove him crazy. He strokes her hair with the gentlest of touches and tries to remember ever being this happy, but he can't.

Mike has a fleeting worry that he shouldn't count his chickens just yet. He shakes the thought off. Yeah, this is new and sometimes things that are new don't last, but then again - sometimes they do. He's willing to take a chance with Ginny. He's willing to take all the chances offered.

Being with Ginny is like winning the World Series. No. Being with her is like winning the World series with a walk off grand slam in game seven in front of a sold out hometown crowd...

No. Being with Ginny Baker is even better than that.

END

A/N I know just enough about baseball to fake it a little, so if I faked anything badly; my apologies. Also, if you see any errors or inconsistencies, blame only me as I wanted to post before the new ep airs and didn't wait for another round of beta review. Another huge thank you to WildIrish for her help with this story and for encouraging me to watch Pitch in the first place. I'll owe you forever, and not only for replacing Zack Morris in my mind with Mike Lawson (did that man age well, or what? holy hell, but I digress...) Thanks for reading!