( guess who super doesn't believe any of that. his face is gonna stick from the amount of incredulity he's leveling at rafe right now. )
Uh huh. Okay.
( yeah, they're just gonna have to agree to disagree on this one. which is practically a goddamn miracle considering they almost never agree on anything. including oral, apparently.
he doesn't expect they'll agree on baseball, either. rafe doesn't seem the type of guy to even enjoy the sport, let alone know anything about it, so the comment about a repeat performance is strange on two different levels. )
What d'you mean "repeat performance"? They haven't won the World Series since 1918. Hell, they haven't even been since '86.
( but even if they didn't ultimately win the series then, sam still has fond memories of that particular year: boston in late october with all the trees turned yellow and orange, sneaking out of the orphanage and into fenway park, stolen ballpark hot dogs, catching a foul ball with his baseball cap, enthusiastically teaching his baby brother about the sport as each play happened. honestly, looking back, that game might have been one of the best nights of his life. just him and nathan, the way it was always supposed to be.
so he's not going to think about the fact that it still should be him and nathan, except his little brother decided to go off and live some normal apple pie life with a wife and a house and some boring dead-end job — leaving him here with rafe. for the time being, anyway. nothing about this particular arrangement is permanent, not if sam can help it. but until he has something more enticing to lure nate back into the hunt (something more concrete to convince him they were meant to do this together, to remind him of their destiny), it's apparently post-its and baseball and bitching at rafe day in and day out. )
I would know, I was there. Nathan never was much of a baseball fan, but no one can say no to a Fenway Frank and four hours away from the Sisters on a Thursday night.
( huh, it's almost like they're having ... a normal conversation? )
[ Rafe can only roll his eyes at Sam's reaction which is only a couple of notches above ew cooties as far as he's concerned. but fine — Sam wants to be immature about sex, that's his own prerogative and his future fuckbuddy's problem and none of Rafe's business to fix.
at least there's the advent of baseball to give something else to talk about. true, Rafe isn't a fan— finds it a lot of stop-and-go with no concrete payout to be gotten just from watching, sees no gain to be gotten from watching others do, and it isn't as if baseball is an impossible sport to pick up for any schmuck off the street anyway —but it's better than silence because given his and Sam's track record? either or both of them would end up throwing something out into the quiet that'd more than likely lead to another snipefest of barbs and jabs. not that Sam's exactly smooth here, but still. it's leagues better than their usual.
up until Sam goes and mentions Nate.
of course Nate had been one of the first questions Sam asked after they'd gotten the hell out of Panama, so Rafe had been ready with the information. the general timeline of events. the retirement. the shitty civilian job and setup. the marriage. it'd been gratifying in a cold and bitter way to see Sam's reaction to the news mirror his own unspoken feelings— disbelief bordering on disgust because how could anyone just walk away from all this? how could a person practically dig a grave for himself then lay down in it and call it comfortable? it'd never been said aloud but Rafe could hear it all the same and after that night playing catch-up for Sam... it'd been an unwritten law that Nate not be mentioned that both had abided by.
until now.
it takes a moment to push down the bitter gut-punch sensation that hits every time he hears Nate's name, but this sure as shit isn't a hill Rafe wants to die on. so back to the conversation without addressing the last chunk of it. ]
It's their third World Series in ten years. They win this, it'll be three for three.
[ clipped? maybe. but still better than bitching back or letting the silence fill in. ]
Edited (missed a forgotten space, please ignore me sob) 2021-05-30 04:17 (UTC)
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chardismastic) wrote2016-08-08 05:33 pm
no subject
Uh huh. Okay.
( yeah, they're just gonna have to agree to disagree on this one. which is practically a goddamn miracle considering they almost never agree on anything. including oral, apparently.
he doesn't expect they'll agree on baseball, either. rafe doesn't seem the type of guy to even enjoy the sport, let alone know anything about it, so the comment about a repeat performance is strange on two different levels. )
What d'you mean "repeat performance"? They haven't won the World Series since 1918. Hell, they haven't even been since '86.
( but even if they didn't ultimately win the series then, sam still has fond memories of that particular year: boston in late october with all the trees turned yellow and orange, sneaking out of the orphanage and into fenway park, stolen ballpark hot dogs, catching a foul ball with his baseball cap, enthusiastically teaching his baby brother about the sport as each play happened. honestly, looking back, that game might have been one of the best nights of his life. just him and nathan, the way it was always supposed to be.
so he's not going to think about the fact that it still should be him and nathan, except his little brother decided to go off and live some normal apple pie life with a wife and a house and some boring dead-end job — leaving him here with rafe. for the time being, anyway. nothing about this particular arrangement is permanent, not if sam can help it. but until he has something more enticing to lure nate back into the hunt (something more concrete to convince him they were meant to do this together, to remind him of their destiny), it's apparently post-its and baseball and bitching at rafe day in and day out. )
I would know, I was there. Nathan never was much of a baseball fan, but no one can say no to a Fenway Frank and four hours away from the Sisters on a Thursday night.
( huh, it's almost like they're having ... a normal conversation? )
no subject
at least there's the advent of baseball to give something else to talk about. true, Rafe isn't a fan— finds it a lot of stop-and-go with no concrete payout to be gotten just from watching, sees no gain to be gotten from watching others do, and it isn't as if baseball is an impossible sport to pick up for any schmuck off the street anyway —but it's better than silence because given his and Sam's track record? either or both of them would end up throwing something out into the quiet that'd more than likely lead to another snipefest of barbs and jabs. not that Sam's exactly smooth here, but still. it's leagues better than their usual.
up until Sam goes and mentions Nate.
of course Nate had been one of the first questions Sam asked after they'd gotten the hell out of Panama, so Rafe had been ready with the information. the general timeline of events. the retirement. the shitty civilian job and setup. the marriage. it'd been gratifying in a cold and bitter way to see Sam's reaction to the news mirror his own unspoken feelings— disbelief bordering on disgust because how could anyone just walk away from all this? how could a person practically dig a grave for himself then lay down in it and call it comfortable? it'd never been said aloud but Rafe could hear it all the same and after that night playing catch-up for Sam... it'd been an unwritten law that Nate not be mentioned that both had abided by.
until now.
it takes a moment to push down the bitter gut-punch sensation that hits every time he hears Nate's name, but this sure as shit isn't a hill Rafe wants to die on. so back to the conversation without addressing the last chunk of it. ]
It's their third World Series in ten years. They win this, it'll be three for three.
[ clipped? maybe. but still better than bitching back or letting the silence fill in. ]