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leonstamatis · 3 years

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It starts with a Seattle Garages blaseball cap.

Andy finds it sitting with the rest of his things in the locker room of the Big Garage, a faded logo and frayed edges and just a little too big. He looks around to see if anyone has noticed, if anyone is looking over at him. But no one is; everyone seems preoccupied, busy with packing up their things and getting ready for drinks and a night out in Seattle.

It doesn’t occur to him that Mike might have done it until later. He walks out of the stadium to find him leaning against the wall off to the side, one hand in his pocket and the other scrolling on his phone. When Mike looks up, he clocks it immediately, offers a little half-smile.

“Nice hat,” he says, once Andy is close enough. He reaches up to flick the bill with one finger. “Where’d you get it, lost and found?”

Andy hooks a finger through Mike’s beltloop and pulls him in for a quick kiss, doesn’t let go even when they pull away. “It was in my locker,” he says. He leaves off the part about where you left it.

“Hm.” Mike glances up at the hat again, considering. “Weird.”

Andy shrugs, reaches up to adjust it. “Yeah, weird.”

“Dinner?”

“Sounds nice.”

Next is a flannel, which is a surprise mostly because Andy is pretty sure he’s never seen it before. The sleeves are a little long, even on him; he has to roll them up a few times to get them to the length he wants, just below his elbows.

Sandie catches it this time and rolls her eyes, scoffs. “Do you even wear any of your own clothes anymore?”

“Sometimes.” Andy throws his bag over his shoulder. “But Mike has a lot of them, so.”

“Gross,” ey groan. “Please stop, I don’t want to hear this.”

“Are you going to be back at the hotel in time for movie night?” Patty asks, from across the locker room. “We’re going to order pizza and everything.”

“Can Mike come, or is this just a Mills thing?”

“If we say Mike can’t come, are you going to skip?”

Andy laughs just a little, already on his way to the door. “I don’t get to see him that often. Sorry.”

“You see him all the time,” Sandie scoffs. But ey don’t seem upset, not really. “You can bring him, but just this once!”

There are still people milling about the Big Garage, fans who haven’t quite made their way back to the parking lot and janitorial staff moving through with brooms and trash bags. Andy dodges as much of it as he can, sticking to the edges of every floor until he finds an exit.

Mike is waiting for him, just like always. His eyes land on the flannel immediately, one eyebrow raised. “That’s new.”

“Things just keep showing up in my locker, I guess,” Andy offers, reaches out to link their hands together. “Maybe the Big Garage likes me, or something.”

That gets a smile out of Mike. His thumb swipes over the back of Andy’s hand, once, twice. “Maybe it does.”

The Big Garage does not like Andrew Solis.

Or, at least, he doesn’t think it does. He’d gotten here early with the intent to get some batting practice in before the place was overrun with fans and Garages and even his own teammates. But somehow, despite the fact Andy’s been here probably hundreds of times in the past decade and a half, he’s ended up stranded on a mostly empty floor he’s never seen before.

There’s no sign pointing out how to get out, no signs lit up to indicate an exit. Just a lot of empty parking spots and, he realizes a little bit late, an old, beat-up van.

“Hello?” Andy calls out.

He knows it won’t work, and he’s right; all he gets in response is his own voice echoing back at him off the concrete. There’s no one else down here, not that he can see. So he pulls out his phone instead.

i think i’m going to die in the big garage.

Mike’s response is almost immediate. that makes two of us.

It catches Andy off guard, startles a laugh out of him despite the circumstances. He walks over to the van and hops up to sit on the hood; it’s not like there’s anyone around to yell at him for it.

no you’re not. you know better than to get lost in it.

do you need me to come find you

uh. maybe. do you know where the floor with the really old van is?

you found a van??

“So that was Derrick’s van,” Andy says, slowly, staring at the ceiling in Mike’s bedroom as though it has any explanation hidden in it. “Derrick’s van, which no one has seen since he died.”

Mike sighs. He pushes his glasses up to his forehead, rubs his eyes. “Yeah, probably.”

“Sorry.” Andy can’t help grimacing. “I should have just stayed with it until you found me, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine.” And Andy knows it is, at least for the most part, because Mike goes so far as to wrap an arm around his shoulder, fingers rubbing circles into the fabric of his shirt. “If you see it again, though, let me know. There’s probably some stuff in there I should burn for him.”

There had been plenty inside, not that Andy is going to tell Mike he’d looked. A mattress, some CDs and records, a saxophone case propped in the passenger seat. He probably could have guessed who it all belonged to, if he hadn’t been a little bit preoccupied with getting to the game.

“Maybe we should just burn the whole van,” Andy offers, a half-assed attempt at a joke.

But it makes Mike pause, tilt his head. His mouth twists to one side, contemplative. “I’ll have to ask Edric about that one.”

They do not burn the van. Mostly because they can’t find it, at least not before Andy heads back to New York. By the time he’s back in town, he’s mostly forgotten about it, caught up instead in the madness of a new season in full swing. So it’s a pleasant surprise to find another shirt in his locker at the end of the game, at least at first.

Mike’s face when he sees it, though, is another story. His eyes widen, and his lips form around half-thought out syllables before aborting entirely. He finally lands, with something like a pained laugh, on, “Interesting choice.”

Andy looks down at the shirt, at the white letters scribbled across his chest. I Saw Jaylen Hotdogfingers Get Incinerated And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.

“Well, I mean,” he starts, tugging at the hem of it, “you’re the one who picked it out, Mike.”

“What?” he demands, voice still tinted with barely-contained laughter. “No I didn’t, Andy. I would not.”

“Aren’t you the one who’s been putting things in my locker?”

“No.” Mike draws the word out, and by now they’re close enough for him to put a hand on Andy’s hip, so at least he doesn’t seem upset. “I’m not. Pretty sure it’s the stadium.”

“Is this a good thing?” Andy asks. “I mean. I feel like it is, but you know better than me.”

“Probably.” And then he leans up to kiss Andy, effectively ending the conversation.

Andy collects flannels and shirts and hats until they’re spilling out of his own closet, until Mike doesn’t even have anywhere else to keep them. The Big Garage apparently isn’t one for small gestures, and while Andy might have expected that, it didn’t exactly occur to him that it would be happening at all.

The van doesn’t show back up, at least not right away. Not until the end of the season, or very nearly, after a late-night game that goes way too many innings and leaves Andy exhausted. He’s got Mike tucked under one arm, in part for the proximity but primarily to remind him how to stay upright, which works right up until Mike comes to a complete stop in the middle of the parking lot.

“Holy fucking shit,” he mutters, “you did find it.”

Sure enough, the van is sitting all alone in a parking spot, just the same as when Andy last saw it. There’s nothing all that distinct about the outside; if not for where they are, it would be pretty unremarkable. But Mike seems thrown, a little unsettled.

There’s an easy solution here, Andy thinks. Or at least, it seems like there is; Mike might disagree, but Mike doesn’t seem to be in a state to argue right now.

“Hey, Big Garage,” Andy says, and once again, his voice echoes off the concrete. “This is, uh. Nice. I guess. But could you maybe give us the keys, too?”

“What are you,” Mike starts, then pauses as the sound of metal clinking against pavement rings out in the silence. “How.”

“It seems like the best way to keep track of the van is to take it out of here,” Andy says. “Come on, you’re driving. We’ll burn everything later.”

It takes a week or two to sort everything out, to burn everything safely and make sure it all ends up in the right place. Andy doesn’t involve himself in most of it; he figures it’s better to let Mike work through it all, and doesn’t ask too many questions.

He’s not really expecting any kind of update on the situation. It’s not any of his business, in any case, and he didn’t actually do that much. But that doesn’t seem to matter; after everything, he gets a text message from Esme’s number.

thanks for finding my van.

(credit to @impernaway for the idea of the sentient big garage, and also to marn @kentuckycorpsereviver for the idea of andy finding derrick’s van. and also a few other folks for various bits and bobs but i don’t remember everyone off the top of my head, sorry!)

#blaseball #blaseball fic #mine #mikeandy #this has not been proofread in any capacity and is not polished in the way i normally prefer my shit to be lmao #BUT IT HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY BRAIN FOR DAYS I SWEAR

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charaznablescanontoyota · 2 years

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if life is subtraction, your number is odd

#marn art #blaseball #mike townsend #andy solis #you ever think about mikeandy and mike being redacted. because i do #thanks hen this one was fun

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infectedpinkie · 1 year

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hi *coughs up blood* hey

#more of this #some people hate fun! not me y'all stay safe though #mikeandy #mine #child's play #chucky #andy barclay #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #mike schmidt

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infectedpinkie · 1 year

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his cd changer’s full of singers that are mad at their dad

bonus:

#happy michael afthursday to all those who celebrate #on my mikeandy some people said he was hot so . yeah ok!#body horror / ?#ask to tag /#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddys #michael afton #mike schmidt #mine

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h4ckensack · 5 months

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" may i have this dance? "

🔪 . — question prompts. ( accepting. )

" — you're joking, right ? " difficult to believe he had a partner let alone a husband, a million years could pass between that moment &. now, and his head would still swim at the mere thought of it. ; a boy destined to die alone in his rich, deep - seeded frenzy quest of destroying the destroyer. how could anyone possibly understand him ?

" we both know i can't dance to save my life, mike. lexy'll just end up recording it for her ticks - tocks fame. "

#YAY GETTING TO USE MY OWN ART FOR ICONS.#i repeat happy mikeandy monday.#* ☠︎ . answered.#* ☠︎ . v. main. + andy.#* ☠︎ . asks. + andy.#revvnant

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infectedpinkie · 1 year

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mikeandy is so funny . Hottest man you ever met starts traumabonding and youre like Yeah i smoked with the doll head. Yeah my dates walked out on me. Yeah im 5'4".

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infectedpinkie · 1 year

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MIKEANDY DO NOT FORGET THIS

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leonstamatis · 3 years

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mikeandy + sweatshirt?

“We should get an apartment.”

He’s not really sure what makes him say it. They’ve been at the ranch for a few days now, and it’s nice - better than last time, at least, but that’s not saying much. Andy’s not entirely sure why it is that he finds himself missing New York, but he does; splitting his time between the ranch and Seattle all siesta can do that to a person, he thinks.

Maybe he could just say that, could ask to make the trip home and spend some time there before the season starts. He thinks Mike might say yes, even, or at least wouldn’t begrudge him if he decided to go by himself.

But that’s not what he said, and he realizes now that the words have left his mouth that he doesn’t really want to back down anyway. There’s not even anything particularly noteworthy happening, no grand realization or dramatic circumstance; Mike is on the bed, wearing one of Andy’s sweatshirts and playing on his Switch, and Andy thinks maybe he’d like to see this more often, somehow. If he can.

Mike pauses whatever game he’s playing to look up. “Don’t you already have two?”

“Well, yeah,” Andy says, and whether he’s laughing out of nerves or at the absurdity of the proposition, he can’t quite say. “But mine is kind of terrible, and uh. The other one is full of Mills.”

“Okay, fair,” Mike says. He adjusts his glasses with one hand, then pulls at his hair. The roots have grown out a bit now, but there’s still silver at the ends, hints of faded purple here and there. “But do you need three?”

“Well, no. I could get rid of mine. And then we could find one that actually has bedrooms for us. Maybe Becker, too, but mostly us.”

It feels like a much bigger deal than it probably is. Andy has to resist the urge to take it back, to say never mind and go find Jaylen to ask if she needs help with anything and pretend this conversation - if you could even call it that, Andy isn’t sure - ever happened.

Which is silly, he thinks, because by this point he knows well enough how Mike feels about him. There isn’t actually a lot of risk, here; there hasn’t been for a while.

Case in point, Mike doesn’t seem to question it at all. “Oh, sure,” he says, and picks his Switch back up. “That would be nice.”

Well. There’s the first part out of the way. Andy, again, fights back the impulse to bolt, to act like that’s the end of it and never bring this up again. He rocks back onto his heels, shoves his hands into his pockets.

“And uh. Maybe you could spend more time there,” he offers, and wishes he sounded a little less careful, a little more nonchalant. “During the season, I mean.”

“I mean, I have to be in Seattle sometimes,” Mike says. “But yeah. I think that sounds fine.”

It’s a relief and a little overwhelming all at once. Andy forces himself to take a breath, to let it out slow, tries to force his heartbeat back down to a normal, respectable level. He crosses over to the bed and drops down onto the mattress next to Mike, ignoring the way he feels like he might vibrate out of his skin.

“Cool,” he says, and hopes his voice sounds more level than he feels. “Great.”

It’s hard to tell from this angle, but he thinks maybe Mike is smiling, might even be biting back a laugh. He doesn’t mind.

#mikeandy #this one ended up long #i am not sure i like it but i sure did write it #anyway #i care them #blaseball #socksmaybe #thank you maaaads <333 #prompt fic #tam answers questions

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leonstamatis · 3 years

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mikeandy + dealer’s choice?

It had been hard to find a way to leave Lenny’s apartment, crowded full of people who wanted to talk to him and ask questions he didn’t know the answers to and touch him just to make sure he’s still here – and he gets it, too. He does. It had been pretty difficult to stop looking around to check for Winnie every few minutes, and he still finds himself searching for Ren because it just seems like this is the kind of thing she would do, like any day now she’ll pop back up and laugh at them all for believing she was ever really gone.

But it’s a relief, too, to end up back at Mike’s apartment, even if Andy still isn’t really sure how to act while he’s there. It feels a little like it shouldn’t be happening, like he needs to check himself to make sure they aren’t rushing into things or he’s not putting too much pressure on Mike to take steps neither of them are ready for.

Which is weird, because. Well. He was never really the one to step on the gas pedal, last time. He’s not even really sure he’s doing it, but he must be doing something, because Mike had kissed him, multiple times. In front of other people. And he hadn’t even minded that last part, not really, even though he’d thought he would have.

It doesn’t really matter, anyway. He’s here, standing in the bathroom of Mike’s apartment with a bag of toiletries and a shirt with holes in the hem and sweatpants that are too short and end just above his ankles, and he is trying to be okay with that. Except that his contacts are bothering him, even though he isn’t tired. Even though coffee weather ends up keeping him awake all night, and there’s no reason for him to take them out and put on the glasses sitting on the ledge of the sink.

He can almost hear Becker’s voice in his head, see their pointed smirk, The casual intimacy of wearing your glasses in front of someone. Classic move, Andy, great work.

That had been a whole thing, too. Math and Fitz had sat him down, snapped his glasses in two and given him a pair of contacts, swapped out his wardrobe for a bunch of fitted jackets and skinny jeans and non-branded graphic tees. Had to look the part, and all.

Andy sighs and shakes his head. He’s not going to overthink this. There’s been more than enough thinking this week, and today, and in the last few hours. Instead, he goes on autopilot, swapping his contacts for glasses just like he would if he were in his own home, and he brushes his teeth, and he braids back just enough of his hair that he won’t be fighting to keep it out of his eyes, and that’s that.

When he walks back out into the living room, Mike is sitting in the exact same spot on the couch with his laptop, the bright colors of whatever game he’s got up reflected in his lenses. But Andy doesn’t miss the way his eyes snap up to focus on him, the way his shoulders relax when he sees Andy is still here.

Yeah. They’re going to have to work on that, probably.

Andy walks over and drops onto the couch next to Mike, close enough that their legs bump against each other. He almost worries it’s too much, even, that he’s gone too far somehow, like he needs to move away.

But then Mike is leaning over to kiss him again, quick and gentle like it’s nothing, like it’s something normal that they can both do, and Andy feels like his heart stutters loudly enough that it reaches all the way back to Battin’ Island.

“I don’t think I knew you wore glasses,” Mike says, when they separate.

Andy shrugs, hopes the blue light from the computer screen does enough to hide the fact he’s very obviously flustered. “Sometimes,” he says. He leans in to press their shoulders together, both so he can get a better look at Mike’s screen and have an excuse not to meet his gaze anymore.

“Hm,” Mike says, clicking the start button. “They look good on you.”

#blaseball #THIS GOT SO WILDLY OUT OF HAND #prompt fic #mikeandy #anonymous #tam answers questions #do you ever just have to take a minute and lie down about them #because I do

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leonstamatis · 3 years

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mikeandy 10

10. camera

It’s too late for Andrew to be up at all, much less scrolling through social media on his laptop. But it’s been a long few days, trying to get everything in order, and now he’s left with a knot in the pit of his stomach and the creeping awareness that there aren’t even that many nights like this left, not many more opportunities to stay up late without any obligations the next day.

Games start again soon. And then they don’t stop, and they don’t stop, and they don’t.

So it’s a welcome distraction, then, to get the notification that Mike has started a stream. Andy hasn’t ever really watched before, although he knows it happens; he allows himself to think, just for a second, that maybe Mike is still up because he’s nervous, too. Because he’s got someone to be nervous for.

Not that that’s actually the point, here. Not really. The point is that Andy is awake, and he isn’t going to sleep any time soon, and Mike is apparently in the same place. So he pulls out his phone and, before he can talk himself out of it, sends off a text.

hey, uh. mind if i watch your stream for a bit?

It’s getting a little easier, at least, not to constantly assume he’s doing things wrong. Not to ask if it would be weird to do things, or if it’s already weird, or if he’s done too much or gone too far. Andrew never had to do much of that, before Mike. He’s still a little hard to read, in comparison to what Andrew’s used to.

The response is quick, at least.

uhhhhh sure. it’s late for you, everything okay?

The simple answer is no, although Andy figures Mike knows that. There’s not much to be said about it, about the way the end of siesta sets everyone’s teeth on edge until half the Mills are about ready to stage a coup and the apartment splinters into factions. Easier, then, to not bother for the time being.

yeah, i’m fine.

And, well. Mike had said it was okay, so Andrew doesn’t wait for a response before he pulls up the stream. Mike’s already got Tetris loaded, is in the middle of a sentence when he gets a notification and stops abruptly with a small smile at the camera.

“Oh, Andy’s here,” he says, like he didn’t know it was going to happen. “Everyone say hi.”

#blaseball #prompt fic #mikeandy #listen this is probably nonsense it’s fine #tam answers questions #anonymous #thank you!

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charaznablescanontoyota · 3 years

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mikeandy free space i cannot think of another legit prompt lmao

Mike’s usual seat for home games is high up in the stands, the field so far away he could probably see it better watching on TV from home. He doesn’t want to be that close, doesn’t need to see the expression on anyone’s face if something breaks bad. Today is different. He and Mcdowell get seats behind the away team’s dugout, and Mike grips the edges of his seat with white knuckles as the innings tick down, and waits with his heart in his throat to see if Andy will still be standing on the field at the end of the game.

Nobody knows what happens, to the people who disappear. Where they go. How they go. There’s no fire, no ashes left behind, no proof of death. Just a void. The Millennials can’t explain where Ren or Holloway went, just that they were therein front of everyone, then gone as soon as someone turned around, or looked away.

Mike knows what it’s like to lose someone like that. To look away and find them gone when he looks back. A part of him, the part that still has nightmares about Miami and the smell of burnt skin, expects Andy to be gone at the end of the game. Because that’s what happens to Mike Townsend. Blaseball takes things from him.

But that isn’t what happens. Not this time.

What happens is this:

Winnie gets hit with a ball. Quack hits a ground out, and ends the game. The Millennials win. The team stays on the field to celebrate, converging on each other in a mass, and Andy -

Andy doesn’t go anywhere at all.

Mike is moving before he knows, strictly, what he’s doing. He’s out of his seat and sprinting to the barrier between the stands and the field, hopping it, very nearly falling flat on his face as he sets foot on the Big Garage’s grass for the first time in a decade and a half. You couldn’t fucking pay him to step onto this field, not usually. But the only thing that matters right now is Andy, and Mike doesn’t even know what that really means until they’re hurtling into each other, and Andy’s arms are around his waist, and he leans up and kisses Andy Solis on the mouth in front of God and everyone.

Some of the Mills whistle. Mike is pretty sure he hears Lenny yell. He doesn’t look. The only place he looks when he pulls back is Andy’s eyes.

“Hi,” Mike says, winded. “You made it.”

“Hi,” Andy says, with a smile that lights up his whole face. His eyes slide over Mike’s shoulder, scanning the stadium. “People are staring.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Mike says, and leans in to kiss him again.

#blaseball #marn writes #DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT MIKE TOWNSEND AND CLOSURE #leonstamatis

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