Garrison and Adrienne - Baseball (Backdated)

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

After the "Xavier's School for Non-Gifted Fantasy Players" league baseball draft, Garrison and Adrienne chat about their teams and the upcoming season.

"Hey Adri?" Kane closed out his browser and picked up his pad with a look of satisfaction. She was sitting at his desktop, the desk piled high with papers and magazines. He had taken his laptop to the bed. "So, based on that draft, you want to just accept it and get in your unicorn outfit now?"

Adrienne flipped him off and snorted at him, kicking her feet up on his desk as she balanced her own laptop on her legs. "Are you kidding me? I just put an order in on a costume in your size. My pitching is going to kick your pitching's ass."

"I don't think so. You have to go all the way down to my bench and Lester before you find a potentially weak pitcher. And I've got an outfield that's going to hit a hundred and twenty homers this year." Kane said, baiting her. "You better get to work on your yoga for the kinds of positions you're going to owe me."

"I never have to 'work' on my yoga," Adrienne scoffed, setting the computer down on the desktop, "but I'm not going to be owing you anything, anyway, because my lineup's better across the board. Even though you took Lester on me." But she'd taken Dickey on him, so she supposed fair was fair, though she wouldn't tell him that.

She rose from her chair without her usual energy, still feeling the aftereffects of the mental clean-up as if she'd been physically hauling garbage for hours herself. "Want a beer?" she asked, taking two out of his fridge.

"I could be talked into one." Garrison slid across the bed to sit near her. "You happy with your draft?"

Adrienne was momentarily distracted by the Harvard/Arizona NCAA basketball game that she'd put on his tv. Harvard was losing. "Damnit. Uhh, what? Yeah, I'm pretty happy with it. My pitching especially. I wish I'd been a bit more aggressive with infielders earlier when I realized Tandy and Kyle were scooping a lot of picks I'd wanted, but considering I'm still feeling a bit... off, I think I could have done worse. And I got Ellsbury. And Papelbon. And Hanrahan," she grinned. "Do I really have to talk you into a beer?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, then took a pull on one of the beers. "Mmmm," she moaned in an exaggerated fashion after she swallowed, stroking a hand down her neck and batting her eyes. "This beer is sooooo good. Amazing." She took another swallow and moaned again. "You should really have one of these." Grinning, she held it out to him. "Sold?"

"Now I'm pretty sure it's not the beer I want." He grinned, but she batted away his hand to watch the game. "Yeah, I think Kyle stole my notes. Little bastard snagged, like, five guys right before my draft position had them listed. I think he set us up."

Adrienne giggled at him, but Harvard got turned over again and she cursed at the screen. "I had the exact same problem," she nodded. "You think he got Doug to come up with some sort of computer mojo to set us up like that? It's just..." she was treating this like a real problem, which was maybe her work with XFI rubbing off on her a little too much, "he didn't seem all that upset when we talked about him losing yesterday. But maybe he was feigning nonchalance as a clever ruse to mollify me."

"I can arrest and hold him for up to twenty-four hours if you want to interrogate him. You know, a little outfit with a skirt, sensible blouse, badge on your waist band, completely inappropriate shoes." He slugged back his beer. "I'll be leaning back against the wall, near the one-way glass mirror while you tell him that his girlfriend has already agreed to a deal in exchange for her testimony."

"That fantasy works better for me if you're the one in the interrogation room and I get the information out of you in the heat of passion after I seduce you with my feminine wiles," she told him with a smirk. "How about your team? You happy with it? Considering I took Dickey and Encarnacion from ya?"

"I got Bautista and Johnson. Takes the sting out. Also, I easily have the best outfield in de league. Between them, Longoria and Cano, I can almost pencil in two hundred homers at the minimum. I also got your boy Lester in the late stages, which makes a nice piece of depth. I'm really happy, to be honest. It's one of my best drafts I've had in years."

"Wanna do a trade for Lester?" Adrienne inquired, waggling her eyebrows at him.

"Sure, but he's going to cost you a ton. Because I know you're soooo in love with him."

"Only for his baseball talents," she assured Garrison with a nod, commandeering his computer to look at their rosters again. "He knows my heart really belongs to Ellsbury, though, because he's so much prettier than Lester." She frowned at the screen. "You can have Dickey for him and Castro?"

"Not even close. No way I've giving you one of the best shortstops in the game. You want Lester? He'll cost you Cabrera."

Adrienne snorted and laughed at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I just have another psychotic break? I must have, because there's no way you'd make an offer like that to me for real. I must have imagined it!"

"You are the one chasing the dream, cupcake. As much as I respect Dickey - 'cause Dickey de best - he's not worth a top three shortstop as well as a douchebag shitballer like Lester. You want him, you're going to have to whet my appetite with a real offer."

Adrienne nearly snorted beer out of her nose. "What's a shitballer, exactly? I mean, what, exactly, does a shitballer pitch? Because that's probably one of the worst mental images you can give a person, to tell you the truth."

"He pitches like a Red Sox - badly, fatly, with a hand full of fried chicken grease. You know, a shitballer."

"I'll make sure to tell him you said that at Spring Training in a couple days," Adrienne assured him. "Although, I have been considering splitting my loyalty this season between the Sox and Francona's Indians. Particularly since they open the season against the Jays."

"I don't know if there's a future for us. I mean, dating a Masshole is bad enough. But one that is also cheering for Cleveland? That's just insufferable."

Adrienne was unfazed. "Could be worse, I could be cheering for Philly," she reminded him with a smirk as she sipped at her beer. "Besides. We both know you only date me because I let you have access to my box when Toronto's playing at Fenway. You're a sucker for Fenway Franks. Admit it. That's why you keep me around."

"Yes. I keep you around for the street meat." Kane said in an artifical, flat voice, like a bad robot from a sixties television show. He nudged her away from his computer and snapped off the screen. "Now, unless you're going to take a ridiculously one-sided trade for Lester, no more obsessing. We've got six months of fantasy baseball ahead that won't be won with deals in the next hour."

Giggling, the brunette did a melodramatic pout as the computer was taken away. "You realize if you take away my fantasy baseball I'm just going to obsess about this Harvard game, right?" she asked him, gesturing towards the carnage that was happening to her alma mater on the television screen. "Unless you give me something else to do for the next hour," she shrugged, smirking again.

"I hear there's the rumour going around the school that our relationship is entirely based on sex and that we don't do anything else." Kane hooked the bottom of her shirt and pulled her close. "Want to prove it?"