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saltygilmores · 1 year

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 14, "It Should Have Been Lorelai"

Oh thank god! There's a Breather episode before the next Shitshow Circus episode, Lost and Found, which I still don't know if I'll even bother watching. Sure this episode has Christopher in it but I can tolerate him and I can tolerate his shitty annoying relationship with Lorelai because it's utterly meaningless to me. Someone rescue me from the back half of Season 2, it's a fucking nightmare. I didn't finish A Tisket A Tasket, because my blood pressure rises with each and every passive aggressive comment that comes out of Lorelai Gilmore's mouth and I just could not take it anymore. So anyhow, dk how it ended exactly, but it looks like Lor and Ror have made up after their "Jess is Bad News" fight. Whee. Phones and doorbells seem to ring constantly in this episode so throughout today's insane rambling I'm going to make a game out of guessing who's butting in to the Gilly Girl's lives. Feel free to play along. Rory: Let's sit at the counter. Lorelai: Oooh, we could sit at opposite ends and play bagel hockey! Luke: Just sit at a table. Lorelai: You're awfully rude to someone who only has two paying customers. Are those two paying customers in the bathroom right now? They're not you and Rory that's for sure. #PayLukeForYourFood RINGING PHONE OR DOORBELL: #1. The phone rings at the diner and someone is asking for Rory which is weird. Is it Jess or Christopher? LOL, that's silly, Jess lives there. I bet it's Christopher.

Oop, swing and a miss for TWWGG.

Having not seen the ending of the last episode ,I must assume Lane has been grounded for 25 years for Talking To A Boy. And I was correct.

Lane: It's the mother of all groundings. I'm being home schooled for two weeks. I only have 5 minutes a day to talk on the phone. She's done everything but slap a Dr.Dre ankle bracelet on me. I know who Dr. Dre is but that was a topical reference that whoosed right over my head and I had to Google it. #DeepCut Lane: Give me some news. Rory: Dean's been working extra hours to save up for a new motorcycle so I hardly see him. She wants to you to tell her something interesting, not give her the Butthead News and Weather Report. Count your blessings that you're in a Dean drought. It's all a girl could ever ask for. To not see Dean Forrester for weeks.

I'm placing money on them bringing back this Dean Rides a Motorcycle nonsense that they haven't mentioned in a literal forever only because Christopher is coming back to town and also rides a motorcycle and the two clowns are going to bond over it like they did over softball (Dean never plays softball again after Christopher left). Then it will be promptly forgotten about again, and Dean will be back to having the personality of an amorphous blob, just blobbing about with no real hobbies, interests or passions besides stacking cans of string beans for mininimum wage and yelling at Rory. I've seen this show several times, but when an episode is this unmemorable* I can just while away my time making predictions about what's going to happen.

*unmemorable=Little to No DALA (dean and lorelai affair) or Jess Involvement Rory segues from "Butthead has been working overtime for weeks” straight into "Mom and I haven't done laundry in weeks" and doesn't explain why, which makes it sound like Dean had been doing their laundry until he started working overtime. He probably pockets Lorelai's panties. Time for a Where's Jess break? Where's Jess? (I think this is one of those episodes where they just stick him on at the end wiping down counters or something. PLEASE let it be on those episodes. PLEASE let it be a Counter WIping episode. I need a fucking break). RINGING PHONE OR DOORBELL #2 (doorbell this time) I bet it's Dean Dean Stacks The Stringbeans.

YAY! It's just Rory's lover, looking like a lost puppy dog. Oh, so I forgot to mention Rory and Paris are going to be in a debate at school and participating on the same team. *inhales deeply* Smell that? That's the smell of sweet, sweet, low stakes, No-Boy filler plot. How I missed ye. Paris shows up at the Gilly Girls house to see Rory under the guise of "we need more preparation before the debate/you need to learn to speak faster" in the same way that Dean shows up to "Change Lorelai's water bottle" or "Do her laundry".

Out Of Context Gilly GIrls Time for An Ancient Technology break! (ATB) Paris: I was making CD recordings from the cassettes I made of our mock debates... Say no more Paris, say no more. *basks in the gentle glow of Early 2000's Technology references* RINGING PHONE OR DOORBELL #3 (phone rings for Lorelai) Definitely has to be Christopher this time.

*deep shudder* Everytime Christopher says "Lor" and Logan says "Ace" an angel stubs their toe.

HOW CONVENIENT.

I really wish she would, my girl needs a break. Anyway Crusty is in town on business and so Lorelai invites Crustypher to Rory's debate and he accepts and my sweet summer child RoryGil is excited that her dad will be there (or so he says...) RINGING PHONE OR DOORBELL #4. Prediction: Dean. Second Place Prediction:Lane Again Third Place Prediction: Jess (Why do I keep assuming Jess is going to call Rory? That's so silly).

Lane wants Rory to pick up a new CD for her when she couldn't get Amazon to overnight it to her and again I'm just floored whenever this show reminds me that Amazon was around in 2002. Describe The Fathers on Gilmore Girls in 6 Words or Less. Go. Lorelai: Do you see Christopher anywhere? Sookie: Uhhh.no.

Brad is me slogging through Season 2 torture.

This looks like something straight out of the opening credits of a corny sitcom. "...Special Guest, Christopher Hayden as Sperm Donor/ Buttclown #2" *sitcom music plays*

Oh, Sherrie. Another innocent lamb lost to the clutches of a Gilmore World Man. Let us pray.

Another snapshot of my Season 2 torture. No Lorelai! Stop! it's okay! Please! I don't need to hear how Dean is tall and pretty again! I GET IT! Waaah. Rory and Paris win the debate. Rory to Christopher in an innocent, chipper, cheerful chipmunk voice that belies the deep seated trauma of being a child with an absent father: Dad, you came to see me! I'm not used to that! Christopher, not so much as blinking at his child calling him a deadbeat dad to his face, while smiling goofily: This is Sherry!

.....?!

Lorelai invites Crusty and poor Sherrie back to their house, and Christopher seems excited to see the house his daughter lives in since he never visits.

Out of context Gilly Girls My dear readers, I hope you one day find someone who looks at you the way Paris looks at Rory. Paris is crushed when Rory tells her she has plans with her deadbeat father and she won't be able to hang out with her post-debate and compare WPMs, braid each others hair, practice kissing...

My dear readers, I hope you one day find your person, the special person like Paris, someone who feels a deep, crushing sorrow n their heart when you tell them you have other plans even though you'll see them at school again in less than 24 hours, causing them to lash out at you like they're fooling anybody with their Oh Whatever That's Just Fine'ing. Ror and Lor rush home and Lorelai says there is no food in the house again except leftover cheese & crackers and Halloween candy. Lorelai does not feed her child or do laundry. In addition to every character on this show needing the services of a competent therapist and accountant, The Hollow needs a visit from Child Protective Services. For pennies a day, you can sponsor a starving child, a poor innocent soul forced to subsist on crackers, candy, coffee and greasy diner food. Your donation will also go towards the purchase of laundry detergent for this smelly unwashed family. Jess’ mother never cooked either so I guess that’s another argument for Literati Soulmates! That special bond over shared Child Neglect!

Sherry showers Rory with compliments and invites her shopping, but then isolates Lorelai and says this...weirdness: Sherrie: I just want you to know you shouldn't feel like you have to get to know me. At all. Just because Christopher and I are close doesn't mean we need to be close, or friends, or anything for that matter. But i desperately want to get to know Rory. Ummm..the audacity to say something like that to the mother of your boyfriend's child 30 minutes after you meet her after she invited you into her home and offered you apple juice? And you "desperately" want to get know his child? This is shady. Sherrie: You know, if we didn't meet unexpectedly today, we'd probably never meet. Because your boyfriend never visits his daughter, right. Sherrie: Rory is so important to him. He is obsessive about his "call dates" to her! No matter where we are what we're doing he has to call her every Wednesday at 7pm! I like that about him! To be so blissfully ignorant and delusional and actually believe what Christopher says! Oh honey. It's like she's got the soft outer shell of Rory but also hangs on to whatever bullshit spews forth from the piehole of an immature worthless manboy pissbaby like Lorelai does whenever Dean speaks. Sad that the best Rory can expect from Crusty is one "call date" per week and I absolutely don't believe even he's even doing that, Sherrie's been brainwashed, but hey! At least he's better than Jimmy Mariano. I guess? #BattleOfTheDeadbeats

Sherry after Crusty happily admits to her that he was (is) a deadbeat dad:

First Rule of Gilmore World: Never trust a Gilmore World man when he says he's trying to change. Never ever. Lorelai says "he's been doing very well with it" just to placate Sherry when honestly she should be shoving this Sherrie woman out the door already and telling her to never come within 100 miles of her or her child again.

She goes on to say that she needs Rory for something very important, she needs her tonight, there is something so pressing and urgent that Rory needs to be excused from FND for this yet unknown Extremely Pressing Urgent Event and she needs her ALONE. This is verging into very concerning territory. Lorelai should be highly concerned. Lorelai, I am concerned that you don't seem more concerned and you agreed to let your teenage daughter go to an unknown place alone with this woman you just met. RINGING PHONE/DOORBELL #5 This call is recieved at the Gilly Girl house while they're with Christopher and Sherry. Okay, I'm clueless for this one. I have to say Lane again, there's no one else. Emily? Dean just because he hasn't shown up to ruin this respectable Breather episode yet?

LOL! That was fun. I chuckled. Rory is going to this unknown thing with Sherrie which is a setup Christopher to go with Lorelai to FND by themselves. Okay, before I conclude part 1 of this commentary (which has already taken several hours and I still have 20 minutes left) I am DYING to see why this Sherrie wants to isolate Rory and I hope it's not gruesome. Rory Gil, we hardly knew ye.

RoryGIl's about to become the hostage here. Blink twice if you need help. My only guess for why Sherry needs to isolate Rory so badly, will be something about asking her for blessing to marry Crusty or something. I really don't know. Neither Lor nor Rory has asked Sherry or Christopher where Rory will be going. RING RING! #6 (as the Gily Girls are getting dressed for FND/ for Rory to be lead to a gruesome end by a child kidnapper) Well it has to be Crusty or Sherry this time. Who else? LANE AGAIN!!! LOL.

THIS IS SO MUCH FUN. I need the phone to ring a seventh time! Sherry and Christopher arrive and finally mention that Sherry will be taking Rory to a movie (then buttering her up with popcorn before she meets a gruesome fate at the hands of a child kidnapper). With Rory out the door, Christopher and Lorelai are alone and Crusty attemps to gastlight Lorelai, probably hoping it'll get him into her pants. L: Was Sherrie with you when I called you? Crusty: She's been with me the whole time. L: You gave me no indication she was with you. C: I must have. L: No, singular pronouns all the way. C: Now I don't remember what I said. L: I do. You said, "I'll be there." Just you. C: I guess I may have said that but I wasn't making a point of saying that. Okay, I am pulling my very, very, very rare and worthless Christopher Card because he just said something not enough people say to Lorelai and it delighted me.

Bahahahaha you're such a prick but it's so true! Lorelai is such a judgemental bitch! More people should say it to her face! Bahahaha! For this one fleeting moment in time you're not so Crusty after all. I'm out of space for screen shots but I MUST KNOW WHERE RORY WENT and I will not cease or yield until we get there. Lorelai attempts to gain some clarity from Crusty on why Sherrie was acting like a fucking weirdo to her in the kitchen. Lorelai: Oh good, you weren't trying to have me killed or anything. Crusty: I was just going over my People To Kill list and you weren't on it.

Ha...ha? Lorelai, I am once again concerned by your lack of concern over certain comments that are very concering, WHERE IS RORY!!! IS SHE OK?! Christopher has a lot of F U C K I N G A U D A C I T Y to try and guilt Lorelai into feeling bad that she didn't consider Christopher's role in Rorys life while she was dating Max, um I'm sorry which one of you is the deadbat here? I tried to write "Deadbeat" but dead-bat has certain charm as well. Crusty wonders why Max was able to get closer to Rory but he should be made to feel bad that he wants Sherry to spend time with her. Doofus, it could be because Rory LIVES with Lorelai and also Max was also her English teacher that she saw 5 days a week? And you're just a dead-bat. Every other male in Rory's life including Kirk and Paul Anka have been better father figures to Rory than you have. WHERE IS RORY!!! WHAT IS SHERRY DOING WITH HER? I'm skipping past Judgy and Doofus at a Looooong and surely pointless FND Dinner scene and going straight to the next scene with Rory.

I...uhhhhh...Um. Surely Lorelai will be very concerned over this very concerning statement which should concern her. SURELY, you can put aside your little quips for just a moment when your daughter tells you she just spent the evening with a touchy feely adult stranger. Right, Dog Sweater? RIGHT?

Ugh. In addition, Sherrie confided in Rory (still a total stranger to her and a child who she took out alone hours after meeting her) a concerning amount of details about her personal life, including the details of all of her past relationships. Sherry was acting way too weird to not have some kind of ulterior motive but Rory is just not being very helpful at all in regards to what it is yet, and I want to shake her I'm so frustrated. But my eyes are bleary and my hands are cramping up and I can't continue. In part 2, I'll unpack this highly disturbing conversation some more and hopefully get to the bottom of this Sherrie Weirdness.. Goo night!

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goldenhemmings · 6 years

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Stealing Second | Baseball!Shawn (Part Three)

Hello again, friends! Thank you to everyone who’s taken the time to read this series or send feedback, your kind and encouraging messages are so so appreciated!! I took some inspiration from this little Kate Upton/Justin Verlander moment (aka one of my favorite MLB couples) for a scene in this part and thought I may as well include the gif to match. I also proofread this while watching a hockey game, so please forgive any mistakes/typos! Previous parts can be found in my masterlist.

Don’t have a pre-read study guide for this one, because I think everything is fairly basic. But, of course, if you have any questions you are more than welcome to ask me!! Without further ado, here’s 8.3k of more Baseball!Shawn. Enjoy the fluff while it lasts, because conflict is coming in part four...

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that you were hot. Burning up, actually, a likely combination of the sunlight streaming in through the window and the fact that your back was flush up against Shawn’s chest, which you had quickly learned was naturally quite warm. You groaned and ran a hand down your face, immediately tossing your white duvet cover off of you and sighing with relief when the air conditioning hit your bare skin. You flew up in search of the blue jersey Shawn had given you, smirking while you shrugged it over your shoulders and buttoned it up as the memory of last night came back to you.

You padded into your ensuite bathroom and sighed when you caught sight of your reflection--more specifically, the various purplish marks covering the expanse of your neck; you were almost afraid to see the additional damage that your jersey was surely hiding. You silently prayed your concealer would be strong enough to cover the marks as you raked your fingers through the ends of your hair in a desperate attempt to tame it, running a tired hand over your forehead when you decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get.

You started towards the kitchen to make some coffee, but as you approached your bedroom doorway you heard from behind you a raspy “Where are you going?”

You paused and turned around to where Shawn was still folded under the covers. You’d thought he was asleep, but upon second glance you saw his eyes were half opened and trained on you, a lazy smile crossing his mouth. “Was gonna make coffee,” you explained, unable to keep the corners of your lips from pulling up at the sight of a sleepy Shawn nestled into your bed.

“No,” he said matter-of-factly, rolling onto his back and folding his arms behind his head to prop himself up.

“Why?” you giggled, already beginning to gravitate back towards him.

“Because,” he hummed, a small grin still adorning his features.

You sighed and crawled back into bed, Shawn immediately pulling you to him so that you were chest to chest, his arms wrapped lazily around your back. He hummed in satisfaction, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh.

“What?” Shawn groaned, his voice still thick with sleepiness as his fingers trailed up and down the fabric of the jersey you had on.

“Nothing, I just--this is a side of you I’ve yet to see”

“What side is that?”

“Clingy and whiny,” you teased, and his eyes went wide as he feigned offense.

“I am not being whiny!” he defended, and you erupted into a fit of giggles.

“Then what would you call this?”

“Content,” he grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

“And why’s that, rookie?”

A cheeky smile crossed his face and his eyes narrowed. “‘Cause I ran all the bases last night.”

“Oh, God. I was waiting for that innuendo,” you laughed, burying your face into your pillow to hide your flustered expression.

“Was it really that predictable?”

“Would it hurt your feelings if I said yes?”

“You’re so full of shit,” he grinned, rolling over to lay on top of you and laughing as you wriggled under his weight.

“Shawn. Shawn!” you squealed, attempting to push him off while he just laid there and laughed. Trying to overpower his sheer muscle mass was like pushing on a wall and hoping it would dent, but you kept going anyways...until you got a different idea.

“Shawn, wait, I can’t breathe,” you pleaded, trying to get your giggles under control. Shawn rolled off of you immediately, concern evident in his wide honey-colored eyes. Before he could ask if you were okay, you scrambled out of the bed and turned to face him with the most smug expression you could manage. “Gotcha,” you smirked, and as soon as you saw Shawn make a move to get up as well you shrieked and went flying down the hallway towards the kitchen.

He came dashing out after you, clad in nothing but his black athletic shorts from the night before. He caught up to you more quickly than you’d anticipated, and you squealed as you felt his arms come around you from behind and lift you off the ground. You clung on for dear life as he spun you in circles, both of you giggling uncontrollably.

He finally set you down, smiling as he panted to regain his breath. “I’m not sure Coach Montoyo would be very happy with you wearing yourself out on game day,” you smirked, breathing heavily as you walked into the kitchen to finally make your cup of coffee. You noticed some of the dishes from the night before still out on the counter, sighing at the thought of having to scrub them clean. You had meant to take care of them last night, but obviously had other things on your mind.

“Game’s not ‘til seven,” Shawn shrugged with a crooked smile, leaning against the counter and watching you start to set up your Keurig. “And I won’t tell if you won’t.” You chuckled, reaching into the fridge to get your coffee creamer.

“Speaking of game day,” he continued, and you looked up from making your drink to see him running a hand through his hair, his eyes focused on the floor. Intrigued, you set down your mug and crossed your arms over your chest as you turned to face him, waiting for him to keep going. “We only have home games today and tomorrow, and then we’re on the road for, like, nine days.”

Your face fell, and you were sure your disappointment was evident to him. You knew the team’s schedule back and forth, of course, but you were so caught up in the excitement of being in Toronto and being with Shawn that you’d forgotten to consider the bane of every baseball player’s relationship counterpart: away games. The idea of being involved with an athlete had always been dripping with glamour in your mind; watching him shine on the field and earn the love and fanaticism of thousands of spectators, knowing that you were the one who knew him beyond the stadium lights and grandeur. But you’d forgotten that during the season a good chunk of your time would be spent apart from one another, which seemed draining and stressful. Aside from your quickly-intensifying feelings for him, Shawn was easily the person who you’d spent most of your time with since arriving in Toronto; you weren’t sure what you’d do for nine days without him.

You took a breath, correcting your facial features so that they were no longer downcast. “Guess we’ll have to make the most of the next two days, then,” you sighed, taking a sip of your coffee.

Shawn’s head suddenly snapped up, his eyes brighter than they’d been all morning. “Would you want to go to the game today? See it from the stadium for once instead of from TV?”

You looked away, setting your coffee mug down on the counter. “I’d want to, yeah, but I can’t really afford tickets right now. I’ll just watch it from here.” It was almost embarrassing, admitting that you were tight on money, but you didn’t want to hide it or make up an excuse. It was the truth, and it’s what you told him.

But Shawn scoffed and took a step towards you. “You really think I’d make you buy tickets when I could get my hands on some for free? All I have to do is talk to the VP of Sales and he’ll hook me up with a couple of seats anywhere in the stadium, even right behind home plate.”

“Shawn, you don’t have to--”

“Stop,” he laughed, cutting you off. “I want to. You can bring Cassidy, and you and I can meet up when the game’s over.”

You exhaled and looked back up to meet Shawn’s expectant eyes. “Are you sure?”

“It’s no trouble for me. And it’ll be easy for us to see each other again tonight because we’ll both be at the same place.”

“We live in the same apartment complex,” you giggled. “We’d be at the same place anyways.”

Shawn rolled his eyes, obviously trying to hide a smile. “I think we can agree that the stadium is more exciting than our apartments.”

You grinned. “I’ll give you that.” You swiveled to grab your coffee off the counter behind you, but as you did so you noticed the time displayed on your microwave: 12:04. “Damn,” you muttered, grabbing Shawn’s attention.

“Hmm?”

“It’s past noon,” you answered, turning to face him. “We really slept in.”

“Would’ve been longer if you hadn’t wound me up by calling me whiny.”

“You’re literally whining right now,” you laughed, and Shawn rolled his eyes. “But you should probably go prepare for the game. Eat something, shower, rest, all that stuff.”

He sighed. “You’re probably right. I have to be at the stadium at 4.”

“That’s so early,” you exclaimed, raising your eyebrows. Shawn just shrugged. “Why don’t you go get your clothes and I’ll make you some coffee for the road?”

“You mean for the elevator?” he smirked, earning a playful swat on the arm from you.

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, pressing your hands against his bare shoulders to push him in the direction of your bedroom.

“Woah, if you wanted to get me back in your room all you had to do was ask,” he snickered.

“Oh my God,” you groaned as he laughed his way down the hallway, but you were smiling even though he couldn’t see.

You brewed another coffee, pouring it into one a paper coffee cup and pressing the lid on just as Shawn came back out with his shirt and shoes back on. You held the cup out for him, and he took it and planted a kiss on your cheek all in one smooth motion.

“I’ll text you about the tickets,” he said as you felt a burn in your cheeks. “After the game I just have to shower and change, and then I’ll meet you at my Jeep in the team parking lot.”

“I don’t think I can get in there,” you said. “Isn’t it blocked off to the general public?”

“Yeah, but you’re not the general public,” Shawn smiled. “There’ll be a security guard standing by the door that the players and coaches go through to get to the lot. Just show him your work I.D. so he sees that you’re with the team, and he’ll let you through.”

“Okay,” you smiled, Shawn making his way to the door. “Good luck tonight.”

“I’ll see you after the game, honey,” he said, then shut the door behind him. Your stomach still flipped every time he used that pet name.

You grabbed your half-empty coffee mug off the counter and trudged into your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed and reaching for your cell phone from the nightstand. You dialed Cassidy’s number, lifting the phone to your ear to wait for an answer. It rang three times before she picked up with a casual “Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I have two tickets to the game tonight, would you want to come with me?”

Her demeanor changed entirely as though you’d flipped a switch. “Of course! Is that even a question?”

You giggled at her enthusiasm, glad to be finding a friend in someone from work. “Okay, sweet. I’ll text you the details and we can meet in front of the offices and then walk over to the stadium together.”

“Yay!” she cheered, eliciting another laugh from you. “See you tonight.”

“Thanks, Cass. See you tonight,” you echoed, hanging up and placing your phone back on the nightstand.

You let out a breath as you flopped back onto the bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind, and it seemed that you’d had no time to process or relax. You were suddenly blatantly aware of how much your heart was racing, a likely combination of the coffee and anticipation of the night to come.

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Come 6:15 that evening, you were standing in front of the doors to the stadium offices and checking your appearance via your reflection in the glass. You’d opted for the white jersey Shawn had given you even though it was almost laughable how big it was on you, and you’d left it unbuttoned to pair with your typical jersey-day attire of a tank top and jeans. Your trusty concealer had come in handy, your neck showing no traces of the attack it had endured less than twenty-four hours ago.

You pulled up the tickets on your phone while you waited for Cassidy, Shawn following through with his promise to text you the link to them. They were row one of section 126, which you knew was on the third base side but you weren’t sure exactly where. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a Blue Jays game from the actual stadium, so the seats could have been in the very last row of the very top section for all you cared; you’d still have been just as excited.

“Y/N!” you heard, and you whipped your head around to see Cassidy bounding towards you, clad in a blue jersey and her short dark hair blowing behind her in the breeze.

“Hi, Cass,” you grinned as she pulled you in for a quick hug.

She pulled away, her eyes falling on your attire and making a little lump rise in your throat. “Where did you get your jersey?” she queried with wide eyes, reaching out to feel the material between her fingertips. “This is one of the most authentic-looking ones I’ve ever seen.”

You shrugged, fumbling to come up with an answer when something else (thankfully) grabbed her attention. “Oh, also!” she exclaimed, beginning to walk towards the stadium as you fell into stride next to her. “Where are the seats you have? So we know which gate entrance of the stadium to use.”

“They’re section 126.”

Cassidy looked at you in bemusement, a small furrow in her brow. “Yeah, Y/N, I’m sure,” she laughed. “Where are they actually?”

“I...I’m not kidding,” you replied, reaching for your phone to show Cassidy the tickets. “It says right here, section 126.”

She looked at your phone in disbelief. “How did you score these seats?” she cried, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Uh, just a friend of mine,” you stuttered, still unsure as to their exact location in the stadium and therefore not knowing why Cassidy seemed so shocked.

“Some friend,” she scoffed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “If they can get tickets right behind the Blue Jays dugout, I want to be friends with them, too.”

“Behind the where?” you asked a little too loudly for it to be natural, convinced you’d heard her wrong. What did Shawn do?

“126 is directly behind Toronto’s dugout,” she explained, her eyes still aglow. “You can basically hear the conversations the players are having, and it’s a great view of the field. What row are they?”

“Um,” you gulped. “One.”

Cassidy’s face immediately lit up with so much enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but laugh along with her. “Oh my God!” she cried, grabbing onto your arm and doing a little jump. “I’ve never had seats that close!”

You giggled, steering her towards the entrance on the third base side of the stadium. After going through the lengthy line for security you were officially inside Rogers Centre, and you followed the signs until you came to section 126.

When you and Cassidy got to your seats, your excitement was immediately equal to the level hers had been. The dugout was literally directly in front of you--you could rest your feet on the top of it if you wanted to. Your view of the game would be top-notch, and as the visiting San Diego Padres were warming up on the field you couldn’t contain your eagerness for the game to finally start.

“Oh, by the way,” Cassidy started, drawing your attention away from the field. “I meant to ask you earlier, but why didn’t you show up to watch the game yesterday?”

The unpleasant memory of overhearing the things your fellow interns were saying about you came pouring back into your mind. “Um...something came up,” you replied bleakly, avoiding eye contact. It was not a moment you wanted to relive.

“Hey,” she said softly, placing her hand on your arm. You looked up to see concern etched across her features. “Is everything okay?”

“Do you ever get shit for working in sports?” you blurted, the words out of your mouth before you realized you were saying them. “Like, from other guys in the office?”

She sighed knowingly. “Are the other interns giving you a hard time?”

“I--” you hesitated, unsure as to whether or not you wanted to get into this with Cassidy. You trusted her, yes, but it was still embarrassing to talk about the fact that these guys thought less of you even though you were their equal. Speaking about it made it feel fresh, and it was something you wanted to push as far away as possible. But, ultimately, you decided to tell her. She was the closest thing to a friend you had in the office, and talking to someone who might actually understand could be nice. “Yeah,” you finally said, looking up to meet her eyes. “I overheard some of them talking about me as I was headed back up to the clubhouse for the game yesterday. I heard them call me a jersey chaser--among a bunch of other nasty things--and it really got under my skin so I just went straight home. I wasn’t really in the mood to watch the game anymore.”

“Holy shit,” Cassidy muttered, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t deserve any of that, and I hope you know that you have every right to be working for this team. Sometimes we just have to work a little bit harder than guys do to prove ourselves in this industry, but that’s the way shit goes sometimes,” she laughed, and as she continued talking her words make you feel progressively more reassured. It made you feel better to know that there was someone else who could relate to the treatment you were getting; that you weren’t alone in what you were experiencing. “I didn’t know half of what you know about the game or the industry when I first started out. You deserve to be here just as much as those assholes do.”

You smiled, feeling the heaviness leave you. It didn’t matter what the other interns thought of you; you didn’t work for them, and you didn’t owe them anything. You adored everyone in your PR office, and that little work community within which you existed was the only thing that mattered. “Thanks, Cass,” you said wholeheartedly. “Didn’t mean to get all dramatic there.”

“If you think you’re dramatic, you obviously haven’t spent enough time with me,” she giggled, and you laughed with her. You finally felt refreshed, you were happy, and you were ready for the game to start.

The crowd was beginning to get louder as time drew closer to seven o’clock, and the excitement in the stadium was contagious. You and Cassidy were bouncing and giggling like little kids as you saw the players begin to fill the dugouts as the ceremonial first pitch was being set up. You could see into the front of the Blue Jays’ dugout, having a line of sight to any player that was up on the railing by the field. Your heart hammered in your chest as you saw the top of Shawn’s head appear, laughing with the right fielder, Randal Grichuk.

You froze when Shawn leaned back against the raining and turned to face the stadium seats. You could see his amber eyes scanning the crowd from underneath the brim of his hat, and when his eyes met yours he grinned and gave a little wave. You smiled and waved back, growing confused when Shawn held up his pointer finger as if to say one second. You looked over at Cassidy as Shawn disappeared deeper into the dugout, her head bent over her phone to check the batting order for the game; in other words, she was oblivious. Everyone around you, however, not so much.

You could feel the stares from the people on all sides of you, and you’d have thought your minor exchange with Shawn had been broadcast on the jumbotron with the way your cheeks were burning under the heat of the eyes of strangers. Not judging, necessarily, just...curious.

Your heart rate picked up again when you saw Shawn reappear in the part of the dugout you could see into, him shooting you another perfect grin. You smiled back shyly, not waving this time in an effort to keep a lower profile. Your attempts, however, went out the window when Shawn reached up and rolled a baseball across the top of the dugout right in your direction. You reached out to grab it out of instinct, and now you knew you’d attracted the eyes of almost everyone that had a sightline of the third base dugout--including Cassidy, who was surprisingly still silent. You took a breath and picked up the baseball, laughing despite yourself when you saw that Shawn had written a message in Sharpie between its red seams.

Are you a baseball? ‘Cause you’re a catch.

You rolled your eyes and reached into your purse, deciding to play along with Shawn. You were already wearing one of his actual jerseys, after all; people had surely caught on by now, and you figured the damage was already done. You grabbed a black pen and found a spot on the ball next to what Shawn had written, smirking as you added your own words.

That made zero sense.

You capped your pen and rolled the ball back over the top of the dugout towards him, and he grabbed it immediately. He raised his eyebrows playfully and his eyes, twinkling with amusement, lifted to meet yours. He disappeared back under the dugout and returned with a Sharpie in hand, leaning back against the railing and adding yet another message.

Like the seats? Picked them myself. The ball came tumbling back towards you.

The view’s nice, you added teasingly, sending it back to him. He received it, his shoulders giving a little shake with his laughter. He’d now drawn the inquisitive attention of some of his teammates, who you could see were watching him from the front of the dugout. Shawn added one more thing, rolling the ball back towards you and blowing you a kiss before disappearing under the dugout.

See you after the game, honey.

You smiled to yourself and tucked the ball into your purse, but not before Cassidy hissed a high-pitched “What the hell was that?”

You sighed, initially trying to come up with the right words to make the situation seem trivial. But, if you were honest with yourself, you’d sort of been dying to tell someone about you and Shawn. Realistically, you probably would have told Cassidy sooner had you not been put off by her apparent obsession with him, but now there was no getting out of it.

You spoke at a low volume so that the people around you--who were surely listening in--couldn’t hear. “Please don’t freak out, but I’ve kind of been seeing Shawn Mendes since I moved here.”

“Kind of?” she shrieked, earning a vehement shush from you. You couldn’t tell if she was excited or mortified.

“No, I--” you sighed. “I am seeing him. I met him the day I moved into my new apartment because he lives in my building, and it sort of just...happened.”

She leaned down, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She let out a little laugh before resurfacing to face you. “That explains so much. These seats, your jersey, why you get all frozen anytime anybody in the clubhouse talks about Shawn.”

“No I don’t!” you defended, quirking your eyebrows.

“Anytime someone says his name it’s like you’ve seen a ghost,” she replied. “I figured you just had a stupid little celebrity crush on him like I do--oh, did, sorry.”

You giggled. “It’s okay, Cass. I just honestly can’t tell if you’re angry or happy about this.”

“I’m only angry you didn’t tell me sooner!” she cried in exhilaration, and you felt a huge breath of air leave your lungs. “And the game is starting, so I’m gonna put a temporary pin in this. But the second this inning is over, I’ve got about a million more questions to ask you.”

You laughed, turning your attention to the field as the first Padres batter stepped up to the plate and the fans in the stadium began to cheer even louder. “Ask away.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The game ended with the entire stadium on its feet, whooping and hollering as the Blue Jays’ pitcher threw a third strike for the final out of the game. This secured a win for Toronto: 6-2 over the Padres. The Blue Jays had been explosive offensively, making for a largely exciting game for you and Cassidy to watch. Shawn specifically had been stellar, with three solid hits and zero errors in the field. You swelled with pride watching him play, knowing how special it was for someone as young Shawn to already possess such immense talent.

On your way to the game you’d been making up excuses as to why you wouldn’t be leaving the stadium with Cassidy after the game, but now that she knew the truth you were relieved to be able to admit that you weren’t going home because you were meeting up with Shawn. She gave you a bone-crushing hug in parting before setting out for her car, thanking you for inviting her to the game and making you promise to update her on the rest of your night.

You stayed in your seat until most of the fans had cleared the stadium, your legs bouncing up and down in your anxious state. You forced yourself to sit still and wait, as Shawn still needed time to change and you didn’t want to fight off the rush of the crowd trying to leave the stadium all at once. After a good twenty minutes you finally decided to head for the team parking lot, your anticipation growing with every step you took.

As you arrived where Shawn had directed you to go, you sighed with relief when you noticed the security guard he’d described. You must be in the right place. He was a big man likely in his late fifties, wearing black slacks and a bright yellow shirt that said (shockingly) ‘security.’ You fished your Blue Jays I.D. out of your purse so that you could get into the parking lot, flashing it to the guard with a smile. You were surprised when his eyes seemed to light up in recognition of your I.D.

“So you’re Y/N,” the man said, eliciting an amused expression from you at the fact that he seemed to know who you were. “Gotta say, I had the feeling when I saw you walking over here. I’m Jake, I’ve heard a lot about you.” The man extended his hand, and you shook it with a curious expression on your face.

“Y/N,” you answered. “But I guess you already knew that?”

“Shawn’s not one to keep his mouth shut around me,” Jake chuckled, and you couldn’t help but smile back. That’s how he knew who you were. “Been doing this job for four years and he was the first player to give me more than a head nod on his way out to the lot. He stopped to talk to me after the first game of the season, and I was so shocked one of the players finally acknowledged me I could’ve cried. He’s stopped to chat after every home game since, and I’m not sure he knows how much it means to me. He’s a real good kid.”

“Yeah,” you said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and making no attempt to hide the grin that was as big as your heart felt. “Yeah, he is.”

“But,” Jake continued, a playful look in his eyes. “If that kid ever starts putting you through hell, you just let me know and I’ll rough him up for you.”

You giggled. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue, but if it is I’ll know who to call.”

Jake smiled, then reached for the door to open it for you. “Have a good night, Miss Y/N.”

“You too, Jake. Thank you.”

You made your way through the door and into the parking lot with a warmth in your chest that hadn’t been there before your conversation with Jake. Shawn was not only sweet with you, but he was clearly sweet to everyone he’d ever met or spoken to. He was beyond skilled as a player, and it’d be easy for him to let the buzz get to his head to the point where he was cold and arrogant; but Shawn was different from other players. He relished in his love of the game, and he had not allowed his morals or his character to be compromised along the road to the Major Leagues. He was humble and kind, and with each passing second your feelings for him seemed to spread.

You spotted Shawn leaning against his black Jeep, damp hair hanging over his forehead as he stood with two other people, their backs to you and therefore preventing you from seeing who they were. You caught Shawn’s eye when you got a little closer, and he waved you over to join the little circle. When they saw Shawn divert his attention, the two other people turned to face you and your heart immediately dropped; he was standing with Kevin Pillar. You tried to keep your cool as you approached the Blue Jays’ star center fielder, but you knew your eyes had blown comically wide.

“Y/N, this is Kevin,” Shawn said as you approached, Kevin sticking his hand out for you to shake.

“I-I’m a huge fan,” you stammered, your grip on his hand a little too strong. “I’ve been watching you play for years.”

He laughed. “Shawn told me you’d say that.” Your eyes shot to Shawn’s like laser beams, silently conveying your embarrassment. “And this,” Kevin continued, gesturing to the gorgeous blonde woman at his side, “is my wife Amanda.”

“Hi,” she smiled, reaching to shake your hand. Her teeth were bleached white and you could tell that her eyes were bright blue even under the dim lighting of the parking lot lights. She was stunning--completely befitting of the role of an MLB player’s wife.

Once the introductions were done you finally turned to Shawn, moving next to him as he inconspicuously wrapped an arm around your waist. The four of you stood and chatted for a solid amount of time, and you very quickly relaxed around Kevin. You also decided that Amanda seemed like a lot of fun, especially with the way that she was constantly joking with her husband. She and Kevin were a good fit, and you couldn’t help but smile at the obvious chemistry between them.

Kevin and Amanda finally voiced that they were going to head home, exchanging goodbyes with you before they walked away to Kevin’s car. Once they were out of earshot, you immediately turned back to Shawn. “You didn’t prepare me for that!” you cried with widened eyes. He just laughed, and much to your dismay you felt the corners of your mouth pulling up.

“Shawn!” you whined, trying to fight your smile. “That was Kevin fucking Pillar, and I went complete fangirl on him.”

“For, like, thirty seconds!” he laughed, and by now you were fully grinning as well. “Then you calmed down.”

“Whatever,” you joked, rolling your eyes. “In other news, you played one hell of a game tonight. And Jake the security guard seemed to know who I was.” A flush rose to Shawn’s cheeks as you smirked at him knowingly.

“Yeah, I, uh...Jake knows a lot about my life,” he smiled sheepishly, and you giggled.

“He really appreciates that you talk to him,” you said. “And he thinks very highly of you. Can’t say I blame him.”

Shawn averted his eyes to the ground, suddenly shy. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, kicking your toes into the ground. “It’s kind of astonishing how good you are, and not just as a player.” You kept talking, eager to get some of your feelings out of your mind and into the air. “So many pro athletes let the attention get to their heads, but you just...don’t. Has Jake told you that you’re the only player in all four years of him working here that’s ever spoken actual words to him?”

Shawn’s head lifted up, his brows furrowing. “Are you sure? Did he tell you that?”

“He said he almost cried when you stopped to talk to him after the first game of the season because no coach or player had ever acknowledged him like that before. And you didn’t even know that, yet you’ve continued to talk to him every game since.”

Shawn was blushing profusely by this point, the sweetest smile crossing his mouth. His eyes were focused on the ground in timidity, and you couldn’t do anything except stand there and admire him. Not only the way he looked, but the way his mind worked. He was so much more complex than you’d realized when you first met him, and it was almost painful how attached you were becoming to seemingly every part of him.

“Whatcha thinking?” you finally spoke, desperate to break Shawn’s silence.

“Thinking about whether or not I should ask if you wanna go down on the field,” he said abruptly, his gaze coming back to yours.

You eyes opened all the way, your jaw dropping ever-so-slightly. “What? A-Are you serious?”

“One hundred percent,” he grinned, holding up his keys to dangle in front of you. “All the players have a key that unlocks almost every door in the stadium, including the ones that lead to the field.”

“Are you serious?” you repeated, because it was the only thing you could think to say. Your mind was desperately trying to process the excitement (and rarity) of what Shawn was offering.

“Yes, honey,” he laughed, the spark in his eye visible even through the barely-there lighting in the players’ parking lot.

“Like, right now?”

“Mhm,” Shawn hummed, grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you back towards the door you’d come out from. “Everyone should be gone by now, so we’ll have the whole stadium to ourselves.”

What a thought that was: having the entirety of Rogers Centre at your disposal. “Will you take me into the dugouts? And the bullpen? And can we--”

“I will show you every single inch of the stadium if that’s what you want,” Shawn laughed as he cut you off. “Yes to all of the above.”

“You’re the fucking best,” you blurted, the widest smile plastered on your face. “Though that seems to be what everyone’s been saying about you these days.” Shawn smiled shyly and looked down at his feet, unspeaking.

“Oh, come on!” you continued, giving his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to be so humble all the time, Shawn. You batted 3 for 4 today, including a two-run home run in the bottom of the sixth, and you were flawless in the field. You safely stole second base at the beginning of the game, which put you in scoring position and allowed you to come home when Pillar--Kevin, sorry--singled to right field. You absolutely knocked it out of the park today, pun intended.”

“Who needs ESPN game recaps when you exist?” he teased, but you were suddenly serious.

“I know I’m gushing, but I just want to make sure you know that everyone is really proud of how you’ve been playing.”

He leaned over to press a kiss to the side of your head, silently thanking you. Satisfied, you walked with him through all of the hidden hallways of the stadium to get to the locker room, a consistent smile on your lips. Once inside the locker room, he reached behind the door to flick the lights on, illuminating each player’s uniform for the next day hung neatly in individual cubbies, their bats, mitts, helmets, and other equipment carefully stacked on the shelves below their jerseys.

“Wow,” you said involuntarily, taking in the sight. “You guys have quite the setup.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” Shawn assented, pulling you towards a small closet off to the side labelled Equipment. He opened the door, revealing pile after pile of exactly what the door said would be behind it. Extra ball caps, batting gloves, bats, and anything else a baseball player could possibly need littered the room, and Shawn ventured inside in search of specific items. You quirked your head in curiosity, but decided not to ask what he was doing in favor of letting it be a surprise.

He first retrieved a Blue Jays hat, reaching back to place it on your head. You giggled as you adjusted its fit, finishing in time to accept the wooden bat he handed you next. “This is kinda heavy,” you remarked, and Shawn laughed.

“It’s the lightest one in here.” He emerged with three baseballs clutched against his chest, and he shut the door and jogged over to his little cubby to retrieve his own glove.

“Okay,” he said, coming back over to you. “Ready to take the field?”

You grinned like a little kid, nodding your head feverishly as he lead the way out of the locker room and into the dugout, climbing the steps to get up to field level. You looked around in awe as you finally stepped onto the dirt, the hand that wasn’t holding the bat clasped over your mouth as you tried to contain your off-the-charts excitement. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Most people haven’t,” Shawn laughed, following you over to the pitcher’s mound. You perched yourself on the rubber, your toes hanging off the white strip. You stared right at home plate before doing a full spin and taking in every bit of the stadium that you could: tens of thousands of empty blue seats, the giant scoreboard in center field, the Canadian and American flags both on display on either side of the jumbotron. Being at the stadium itself had always been magical, and it was still everything you’d thought it was when you were a kid. But standing on the field was an entirely different feeling altogether, and you couldn’t choose just one word to describe it. Surreal? Overwhelming? Dreamlike? You settled for an amalgamate of all of the above.

“Here,” Shawn said, gesturing towards the bat in your hand. “Go step into the batter’s box.”

You glanced up at him with quirked eyebrows. “I thought you would be doing the hitting.”

“What fun would that be for you? You watch me hit all the time. C’mon, go stand at the plate and I’ll pitch to you.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Mendes,” you teased, clutching the bat and making your way to the batter’s box.

Shawn stood about halfway inbetween the pitcher’s mound and where you were, a ball in his right hand and his glove covering his left. “Ready?” he asked.

You lifted the bat over your shoulder. It was a little heavy, but you managed. “Ready.”

Shawn softly threw the ball towards you, but it was high and way too far away for you to possibly get your bat on it. “Nice pitch,” you joked, and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “You should probably stick to second base.”

“Aren’t you just so funny,” he razzed, and you giggled.

“C’mon Mendes, give me something I can actually hit.”

He shook his head playfully before sending another ball your way, which you actually managed to get your bat on. Shawn’s head whipped around to see the baseball you’d knocked land right at the edge of the grass behind second base, and you let a smug smile cross your face. “Woah,” he grinned, turning back to face you. “Impressive.”

“I don’t just watch sports,” you smirked. “Played them all the time when I was younger. I was pretty good.”

“Yeah?” he mused, his eyebrows raised and a toothy grin on his face.

“Oh yeah,” you giggled. “I bet I could easily throw a football with a tighter spiral than you.”

He laughed. “I’d say that’s fair considering I’ve never thrown a football in my life.”

“Never?” you cried, your face lit up with amusement.

“I play baseball, not football!”

“Excuses,” you teased. Suddenly getting a new idea, you dropped your bat next to home plate and headed over to where the second basemen typically stood. You smiled when you saw Shawn follow you, and he went to his position as if he could read your mind. You inched your way towards him and wrapped your hand around his arm, leaning your head on the side of his right shoulder.

“Your view’s nice over here,” you remarked as you looked towards home plate, and Shawn huffed out a soft laugh. “I’m sure it’s even better when the seats are filled and the fans are all cheering.”

Shawn turned to look at you, a closed-mouth smile that touched his eyes gracing his features. “Nah,” he simply said, and you looked up at him with a quizzical expression.

“What?”

“I like the view right now just fine,” he answered, never tearing his eyes from yours. His smile was unfaltering and his eyes gleamed under the lights of the stadium, and as your heart started to beat faster all you could do was mutter something about how cheesy he was and turn to bury your head in his shoulder, your arms finding their way around his waist as his quickly wrapped around your upper back.

As you stood there, unmoving and unspeaking as Shawn held you with his chin resting on the top of your head, you felt tears prick your eyes. You were standing on the field of your dreams with the guy of your dreams, and you had the job of your dreams in the city of your dreams. If someone had told you a month ago that your life would have worked itself out like this, that the stress and the work and the debt would have been worth it, you’d have told them no way. But this was your reality now, and the mere truth in that fact had brought you to tears. Good things really did come to those to wait.

You were suddenly shocked out of the moment when, slowly but surely, all of the stadium lights began to turn off. Before you could ask what was happening, Shawn let out a quiet, “Damnit.”

“Why are the lights going off?” you asked, looking at his face that was now dim in the decreasing light.

“They go off every night at midnight,” he sighed, letting out an exasperated laugh as he ran his hands through his hair. “I lost track of time, I didn’t realize it was already so late.” He grabbed your hand, beginning to pull you back towards the dugout.

“Shawn, wait,” you cried, sporting a grin he likely couldn’t see.

“It’s pitch black, it’s gonna take us forever to find our way out of here.”

“Shawn,” you pressed, and he finally stopped. “First of all, our phones have flashlights,” you giggled, “And secondly, the roof is still open.” His silence indicated that he didn’t understand what you were getting at, so you kept going. “Just--here. Come here.”

Shawn’s hand still in yours, you led him off the dirt of the infield and onto the grass in the outfield, laying down on your back and pulling him down with you. By now, your eyes had adjusted to the new darkness and you were able to make out Shawn’s silhouette, but not his facial expression.

You looked straight up, able to see the stars splitting the black sky into a million tiny pieces, backlit from the lights of downtown Toronto. Your left hand was still firmly wrapped in Shawn’s, and your right was absentmindedly weaving through the grass of the outfield next to you as your eyes remained fixated on the night sky. You knew in the back of your mind that this was undeniably cheesy and cliche, but a bigger part of you didn’t care. You had tonight and tomorrow with Shawn before you lost him for nine days, and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the most of the time you had before he left for the away series. The two of you laid by each other in silence until he cleared his throat, prompting you to turn your head towards him.

“I, uh, I know tomorrow--well, I guess technically today--is Sunday, so you don’t have to be at the stadium, but if you wanted to come, y’know, to see the game again, you’re more than welcome to watch it from the suite with Amanda and all the other players’ wives and, um, girlfriends. I think they’d love to have you.”

“Girlfriends?” you questioned, raising your eyebrows.

“Y-yeah,” Shawn whispered. You could hear the waver in his voice, and you giggled and rolled over so that you were nestled into his side.

“That’s quite a step up from when we decided we were dating.”

He shrugged, letting out a heavy breath. “I think we’re a step up from when we decided we were dating.”

“Touche, boyfriend.”

“See?” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t you like the sound of that?”

You laughed in agreement, and then went silent for a while until you became aware of the absurdity of the moment. “At least we’ll have a good story when people ask us about all this.”

“What do you mean?” Shawn asked, turning his head towards you.

You sighed, thankful for the darkness concealing your expression. “When--if--people ask us about how we, you know, happened, we get to tell them it was past midnight and we were laying in the outfield of Rogers Centre, which you snuck us into,” you giggled. “Not to mention the fact that all of the lights in the stadium shut off and we could barely see our hands in front of our faces.”

“Except it’s not sneaking in if I have a key,” Shawn said with a smirk in his tone, and you laughed.

“You don’t think Coach Montoyo would consider this sneaking in?”

“Not sure,” Shawn mused. “But I don’t exactly intend on telling him about it, so I guess we’ll never know.”

“Whatever, Mendes,” you grinned, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder.

“‘M gonna fall asleep if we lay here much longer,” Shawn said after a while, and as if on cue, you found yourself trying to suppress a yawn.

“The game’s not ‘til seven tomorrow, right?” you asked, finally allowing the yawn to pass your lips.

“It’s at one,” he corrected, and you shot up off of the grass.

“Shawn!” you cried, suddenly wide awake. “Why are we still here? You need to be home sleeping!”

“Relax, honey,” he laughed nonchalantly, propping himself onto his forearms. “I’ll be fine.”

“Shawn, it’s almost one in the morning and you have to be back here at, what, eleven a.m. tomorrow? How are you supposed to be fully rested for the game if--”

“Y/N,” he pressed, still amused.

You sighed, sinking onto your knees in the grass next to him. “I don’t want you to be exhausted tomorrow because of me.”

“It’s not like you’re holding me here against my will,” he laughed, and you finally let out a little giggle.

“I know, but you just said you were about to fall asleep,” you said softly, grabbing his elbow and gently helping him sit up. “I’m not sure the outfield grass is capable of providing a good night’s rest.”

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, standing up next to you. “You win.” You giggled as he grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together, bringing up the flashlight on his phone to guide the two of you out of the stadium.

The two of you started walking back towards the dugout, Shawn bringing your hand up to place a chaste kiss to the back of it. “Thanks for coming to the game tonight,” he said quietly.

“Are you kidding?” you laughed, nudging his arm with your shoulder. “Keep pulling free tickets out of thin air and I’ll be at all of them.”

“Is that all I’m good for?” he teased, looking down at you with a smile.

“Maybe a few other things.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “So you’ll be at the game tomorrow then, too? Watch from the suite?”

“Sure,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. You didn’t know anyone that would be there other than Amanda, and even she had barely gotten the chance to talk to you. The idea of seeing the game with the group of the players’ wives and girlfriends made you a little nervous, but it clearly meant a lot to Shawn which proved that it should mean a lot to you.

“Cool,” he smiled, and you were able to see it touch his eyes in the dull light of his phone. “Now let’s go home.”

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