Toronto Blue Jays Imagines

Bo Bichette - "Does that hurt?"

You smiled to yourself as you snapped a picture of Bo taking BP. You and some of the other partners of the players were hanging out in the dugout, watching the Blue Jays do some optional BP and other practice around Rogers Centre.

Bo was currently batting against an automatic ball launcher, and man did he look good.

He waved his hand in front of his face at a bug buzzing about. You smirked to yourself.

"Told you to wear bug spray," you called out.

Bo laughed shortly, but didn't look your way; he had to stay focused on the machine launching balls his way. He readied himself for the next ball, but he frowned and shook his head, presumably at the bug.

He hit the next ball, then waved his hand in front of his face again. As the machine geared up for the next ball, Bo was still trying to shoo the bug away. As such, he was too late to properly position himself for the ball.

"Fuck!" he shouted as the ball hit his hands.

You sucked in a breath. "Shit." You climbed out of the dugout. "Are you okay?"

He cradled his hand in front of him and stepped away from the batting cage.

John Schneider rushed over to turn off the machine as you and George--who had been waiting by the batting cage for a turn at BP--ran towards Bo.

"Are you okay?" you asked worriedly.

Bo gritted his teeth. "I don't know," he admitted quietly.

You gingerly reached your hand out to touch his fingers. You'd been his partner long enough to know how to care for some basic injuries. "Does that hurt?" you asked as you made his fingers curl inwards slowly. "Can you feel your fingers?"

Bo sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yes, and yes."

A few trainers had appeared, as well as a few other teammates.

"It's a good sign you can feel them," Schneider said. "Can you move your fingers on your own?"

You moved your hands away and Bo attempted to curl and uncurl his fingers. He winced, but managed it.

"Okay, that's good," George said, sounding relieved.

You nodded and looked to the team's physical therapist. "You should ice your hand and see how it feels in about an hour," they said.

Bo sighed, but nodded.

"You might have to sit tonight out," Schneider said sympathetically.

You placed your hand onto Bo's shoulder.

"I'll help you find ice," you said.

Bo frowned but nodded.

As you two walked down to the clubhouse, followed by the physical therapist, you gave Bo's uninjured hand a gentle squeeze. "You'll be okay," you murmured.

He gave you a faint smile. "With you by my side, I know I will be."