Garrison and Adrienne - Spring Training

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Backdated to Sunday

Garrison and Adrienne spend the weekend in Florida taking in some baseball and enjoying other extracurricular activities.

"I'm just pointing out," Adrienne shrugged, "that if I hadn't been feeling nostalgic and gotten Amara to book us into the cheap-ass Super 8, but gone for a proper hotel instead, the bed would still be intact. More expensive hotels have more expensive, more-difficult-to-break beds. It's a much-tested theory," she joked, watching Garrison out of the corner of her eye as he manuvered the rental car into the Dunedin Stadium's parking lot on the drizzling Sunday, where a crowd was already making finding a spot difficult as people anticipated the Blue Jays versus the Boston Red Sox spring training game, the threat of a rain-out not something they wanted to contemplate.

"Is it? Gosh, I'd love to hear all about how you much tested that theory that expensive hotel beds are much harder to break. Especially since they don't involve me being in them. Oh wait, hang on, I think I misworded that. What I meant was to stop complaining about the accomodations just because you're used to the Ritz." Kane said archly, although Adrienne had been dating him long enough to know behind his words was mostly humour. Garrison tended not to get jealous or defensive unless he was pushed to do so. He pulled the car into an empty spot. "Besides, I wasn't the one acting like I was trying to stay on a mechanical bull."

"I'm not used to the Ritz," Adrienne replied defensively, "the Ritz is a dump compared to the hotels I used to stay in in Eastern Asia." She couldn't hold back a giggle- it was really too easy to push Kane's buttons. "But the point I'm trying to make in saying that Super 8 beds are easy to break," she clarified, "is that breaking beds is a really big turn on for me." She climbed out of the convertible they'd rented and sashayed over to his side of the car. "And that I'd rather be in the dump hotel where we can break the bed than in the expensive hotel with a bed we can't break. But that I think maybe we should test an expensive one to see if we can break it, too, oh mechanical bull of mine." A perfectly sculpted eyebrow waggled at him suggestively.

"You know, there's something not quite right about you." Garrison said as he got out of the car. His Stieb jersey was stretched across his chest, and with his powerful build, he could have been mistaken for one of the players as opposed to just a spectator. "It's like having sex again flipped the nasty nympho switch inside of you. Is this what you were like as a teenager?"

Adrienne was wearing a Red Sox jersey and jeans, though hers had no name on the back- she could no longer wear her Bay jersey and hadn't found time to get Papelbon's name on this jersey before coming down to Dunedin. "You don't want to hear what I was like as a teenager," she responded, trying to keep her tone light while her green eyes went dark and troubled for a moment. There was no way she wanted to talk about what she'd been like back then with him. "I don't regret what I used to be like since it all led me here eventually, which makes me pretty damn happy, but I don't want to dwell on who I was, I'd rather just be who I am now," she explained with a shrug, figuring she owed him her honesty. "I'm not proud of most of what the teenage me did. Plus, most of it's just embarrassing. You wouldn't believe some of the hats I used to have to wear for shoots. Almost as embarrassing as you wearing that Steib jersey," she grinned.

"Wow, I was mostly joking about the raging libido. Sorry, didn't mean to trip on issues and, you know, stuff." Kane finished lamely, fumbling after inadvertantly trodding into another hot button of Adrienne's past. There was a lot of damage hidden there, and it was surprising that she wasn't a lot more screwed up from it. "And there will be no unkind words about Sir David, thank you." He ran his hand down her spine, tracing it through the fabric of her shirt and resting it on the small of her back.

Adrienne wrapped an arm around his back, wondering if she should become one of those people who put their hand in their significant other's pocket and made everyone around them want to vomit. She didn't want to be one of those people, though, so she settled for just the arm around his back. "Don't be sorry," she murmured, kissing his neck, feeling a little contrite for making him feel he had to apologize. "I'm a landmine of issues and, you know, stuff. It's hard not to trip on them. It's not your fault. And actually, thanks to a bunch of people I've met in the past two years, mostly you, there are a lot of those landmine-sniffing rats running around inside my head now disarming the landmines so that they don't blow people off the face of the earth anymore. That's good at least?" Unless he didn't like all the landmines; unless he got scared off by them, as he had every right to be. But that was his decision, one she couldn't really control, so it wasn't something Adrienne wanted to dwell on.

"Sir David... don't tell me you Canadians got your monarch to knight him just for being the only Jays pitcher to pitch a no-hitter? That's a tiny bit pathetic, isn't it?" she smirked to change the subject.

"I think it's good. I support the landmine rats policy." Kane nodded as they strolled towards the gates. "And anyone who cheers for Papeldouche should not be making fun of Stieb. Considering that Stieb mastered literacy and personal hygiene, elements which your redneck closer is still struggling with."

"I'm not making fun of Steib!" Adrienne protested, smacking Kane on the ass for even thinking such a thing. "I think Steib was a great pitcher! I'm making fun of Canadians for being so pathetic they have to canonize or knight or whatever-it-is a good pitcher from a crappy ball team to get their kicks. And I was making fun of you for having to go back to the 1990s to find a name worthy of being on a jersey." Anticipating the retaliation that she knew was going to come, Adrienne stood in line at a hot dog cart to buy him a smokie that she could shove in his face to shut him up when he started to yell and turn purple.

"Now you did it. I can take criticism of Steib. I can take forgetting Hentgen. I can even accept crimes against Key. But," With his arm around her waist, he hoisted her easily into the air, walking along carrying her off the ground with one arm. "You just snubbed the Doc. You just don't. Ever." With mock seriousness, he handed their tickets to the bemused looking attendent. "And as punishments, we're going to get you an autograph from one of the Jays right in front of the Red Sox." With his strength, it was simple to keep her firmly off the concrete.

"Help! Help! I'm being repressed!" she chortled, doing some half-hearted, token flailing. "Nasty Nympho didn't get her hot dog! Ooo, can I have Lance Broadway's autograph? He's cute, and I want to talk to him to see if he sounds as flamingly gay as his name sounds." Adrienne had nothing against homosexuals, she just thought Lance Broadway was the sort of name a bad homoerotica writer would pick for a protagonist. "Or how about Rzepczynski, cuz he sort of looks like he doesn't know how to spell that."

"Maybe I can get you Lance Broadway and John Buck's autograph. You've got the cast of a porn film right there." He plunked her down at the bottom of the steps, close to the dugout, and handed over a baseball he produced from his back pocket. "I'll go get your food while you flirt with the ballplayers."

"Mmm, gay porn," Adrienne muttered under her breath, not wanting the players to hear. "You'd have to add Vogelsong from the Phillies to that cast!" she shouted to the departing Garrison, then turned back to saunter over to the dugout so she could flirt with the ballplayers. Luckily she was wearing the Jays hat Kane had given her last year, so she didn't look like the hard-core member of Red Sox Nation she really was.

When Kane returned with food she feigned throwing the ball he'd left with her at him, but instead tossed it into the air and caught it herself. "You know, I used to get players' autographs that had phone numbers accompanying them," she told Kane with teasing accusation, "now players see you dropping me off at the dugout -literally- and no more phone numbers. You're completely cramping my style, you know." She held the ball up to his face. "Look: Hill, Lind, and Bautista- all guys I'm going to put in my fantasy pool to beat you with. I also managed to get Cito Gaston; I suppose I was feeling nostalgic for your Dave Steib jersey."

"Eat your hotdog." Garrison said, privately pleased that she was enjoying herself. Their relationship had been a bit of a rollarcoaster so far, and Kane was never entirely sure that it wasn't on the verge of going off the rails at any given time. Instead, he sat down in his seat behind the dugout and leaned his elbows on the top. "Oh, stop making 'nom nom nom' noises and eat it properly. You're going to get mustard up your nose if you keep doing that."

"I don't even know what 'nom nom nom' means," she retorted in a dignified tone, making short work of the veggie dog. It was possibly a term she remembered hearing from the students, but Adrienne didn't usually engage in following teenage colloquialisms. "I have to eat fast so I can go over to the Red Sox bench before the crowd and get some autographs that are actually going to be worth something in the future," she teased him. "You want to come with?"

"I'd have to arrest them for crimes against baseball. Do you want to see Lester and Ms Ellsbury led out of the ballpark in handcuffs, crying giant tears? Come to think of it, that's not a bad plan. You can bet they're guilty of something." Kane said, in a tone that didn't entirely assure her that he was kidding.

Adrienne latched on to his arm, as if worried he would actually go over there and do what he threatened. "Nooo! If there's going to be any arresting, you should be arresting some of the Jays for crimes against fashion! Like Muttonchops McGowan with his awful mutton chops! Or some of the fans. Yeah, if you're gonna go all handcuff-happy on me, arrest some of the fans," she pleaded emphatically, smirking all the while.

"Aw, you know full well that I left my handcuffs in the room. Also, if you lost my key for them, you owe me. I have to pay for replacements out of my own pockets." He didn't need to elaborate how the key got misplaced.

"Oh, don't you worry. I have the key to your handcuffs safe and sound somewhere on my person. And if I do lose it, I can give you another pair from the stash I've got at..." she nearly said 'the mansion', but changed it to "home" and smiled, not even feeling embarrassed for using the word. "Do you want me to go get you anything from the Red Sox side of the ballpark while you stay here and flirt with the ballplayers?" she asked innocently.

"I just don't understand why you want to put our relationship at risk by flirting with the dregs of the gene pool? I mean, you show pictures of Youkilis to ugly children to make them feel better about themselves. Oops, looks like Veritek just wet himself. Obviously they haven't got his Depends stocked up." Garrison stretched out his legs, putting them deliberately in Adrienne's way. "Or, you could stay over here and tell me just where you hid the key? After all, I've already had to bend a metal pipe to get them off the first time."

Adrienne purposely tripped over his legs and landed in his lap. "I said you were gonna stay here to flirt with the ballplayers, as in the Jays," she corrected, punching him in the shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Now you just went and implied that the Jays are the dregs of the gene pool. At least you'd be a pretty sure bet to come out on top if they got insulted and tried to beat you up," she said with a reassuring nod, then leaned in close to his ear, grinning maniacally. "How about you try to find where I hid the key?"

"We almost got busted at the rainout, swivelhips. I think trying during an actual game is pushing it, eh?" Kane said, although hardly displeased. He snaked an arm around her, twisting her slightly so that she could lean against him and see the field. "I'd say be good, but there's about as much chance of that as the Astros winning the World Series. So how about be nice. For me. So I can watch the- playing with the top button of your shirt is not being nice!"