The day after your passionate night together, Tommy was back on the field, trying to shake off the exhaustion and the telltale signs of your affection. Despite your best attempts to cover the hickeys peppered across his neck with concealer, a few rogue marks had escaped your attention. He’d laughed that morning when you teased him about it but had become increasingly self-conscious as he got ready for the game.
“Are you sure it’s not obvious?” he’d asked for the fifth time, tilting his head in the mirror.
You smirked and shrugged. “I mean, unless someone’s really staring, I think you’re safe.”
“Great,” he muttered, grabbing his gear. “Because no one ever stares at baseball players.”
You giggled and kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll be fine. Just focus on the game.”
As you spent the day hanging out with Junebug, you had no idea just how wrong you were.
---
The Dodgers were hosting the Yankees in what promised to be a competitive series. The crowd buzzed with excitement as the players took the field. Tommy did his best to focus, even as he felt the occasional amused glance from his teammates. They hadn’t said anything explicitly, but their knowing smirks told him enough.
By the fifth inning, tensions were high, and the Yankees’ offense was relentless. Juan Soto, one of the Yankees’ stars, hit a powerful double and jogged to second base, where Tommy was stationed. Tommy tried to ignore the man as he took his position, but Soto was clearly in the mood to talk.
“Hey, Edman,” Soto started, leaning casually against the base. “You good, man? You look a little... roughed up today.”
Tommy gritted his teeth and kept his eyes forward. “I’m fine.”
Soto wasn’t deterred. “Oh, really? Because it looks like someone had a pretty wild night. Those marks are hard to miss, you know.”
Tommy’s jaw tightened. He refused to engage, hoping Soto would get bored and move on. Unfortunately, the Yankees outfielder seemed to take his silence as an invitation.
“She must be something special,” Soto continued, his tone shifting to something more suggestive. “Y/N, right? That’s her name? I remember seeing her last time we played you guys. Beautiful girl. Sweet, too.”
Tommy’s hands clenched into fists, but he kept his gaze locked ahead. Don’t take the bait, he told himself.
Soto leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. “If you ever get tired of her, let me know. I wouldn’t mind showing her a good time.”
That did it. Before Soto could say another word, Tommy turned and swung, his fist connecting with Soto’s jaw. The impact sent Soto stumbling back, but he quickly recovered and retaliated, throwing a punch of his own.
Chaos erupted. Players from both teams flooded the field, trying to break up the fight. Tommy managed to land another punch before he was pulled away, his teammates holding him back as he shouted expletives at Soto. The umpires quickly intervened, ejecting both players from the game.
---
When you got the call about Tommy’s ejection, you were at a café with Junebug, enjoying an afternoon coffee. Concerned, you hurried to the stadium to pick him up.
You found him waiting outside the player’s entrance, his lip split and a dark bruise forming on his cheek. His knuckles were raw and bloody, and his uniform was rumpled and dirty.
“Tommy!” you exclaimed, rushing to his side. “What happened?”
He gave you a sheepish smile, wincing as he moved. “It’s a long story.”
