i feel this set is a bit too girly for daria because i made it as a wgw one, but changed it because i was too lazy to make a new set for bai. if that makes sense. ANYWAY so last night my friend and i gave ourselves a seat upgrade at the sox game and we were three rows back from where the guys stand on-deck. and jacoby looked over at us. and the only thing i could say was "f.uck. me." not that he heard, so it's okay. on with the story.

----

It felt like it had been so long since we'd done this ritual. Wake up early-ish, eat something small, go for a run, come back and have a bigger breakfast. Take it easy during the day, maybe go grab a coffee and sit at the waterfront or in the Common, go home and get ready, head over to the ball park, and the night would go from there. 

We'd gotten up to the taking it easy part today, walking back to Jake's apartment after lunch. He'd been good all day, and I knew he was nervous, but he was trying to keep his frustration in check. Maybe he knew I needed a break. Pillows and clothes and TV remotes and even two plates had all gone flying across the apartment at various times over the past two weeks in anger, so his rehab being over was like my saving grace. As we walked, I heard someone behind us yelling out.

"So you finally decided to join us again," a male voice called. Receiving no response, he tried again. "Come on, you pus.sy."

I turned around and glared at the guy, and he laughed. "Daria, baby, what's it feel like going to bed with a girl every night? Does she satisfy you?" By this time, the guy was almost breathing down our necks. Jake turned, and I had to grab his hand to stop him from punching the guy, who just laughed, again. "I knew you wouldn't do it," he said, before turning back the way he came.

"You okay?" I asked Jake, squeezing his hand. He shrugged. It was good enough.

When we got home, he kicked off his shoes and scratched Ash's ears before dropping down on the couch, staring at the roof. I followed, straddling his legs and kissing his neck as my hands unzipped his jeans and slid beneath his underwear.

"Daz, stop," he murmured, and sighed. He reached up and slid his hand into my hair, pulling my head down and kissing me. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I need to focus right now."

"Later?" I asked.

"Promise."

---------------------------------------------

I was back in my regular seat again, watching batting practice, and it felt so familiar. Every now and then one of the other guys' sons, the ones who joined in practice with their dads, would run over and show off a new swing or come and talk to me. After a little persuasion I jumped over the wall and played with them until their fathers called them back in, and I returned to my seat.

"We're not taking those boys home," Jake said when he came over to see me after BP finished.

"But they're so cute!"

"They belong to someone else," he grinned, leaning in for a kiss. I pressed my lips to his, then ran my hand through his hair, our noses touching. 

"I love you and I'm so, so proud of you, okay?" I whispered. "Now go kick ass, baby."

In the end, the game was painful to watch. Jake always knew when he'd done well, but he was so, so hard on himself when he thought he hadn't. Tonight was the latter. And he didn't like me giving him pep talks afterwards, trying to make him feel better, but I felt like I had to say something. 

"Come on, babe," I said, as we drove out of the park. "You can't hit them all. And your defense was perfect." He grimaced, still silent. "Don't you dare throw another plate tonight," I said, poking his ribs. He grinned sheepishly.

He seemed to recover by the time we got home, ditching his stuff by the door and throwing me over his shoulder, dropping me on the bed. After a rush of undressing I climbed on top of him but he grabbed my hips and flipped me over so he was on top, something he hadn't done for so long because of his injury.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He didn't need to say anything.

--------------------------------------------

"Jesus," I muttered as the blood stopped rushing to my head, my body limp.

"That's what I like to hear," Jake said, and I could feel his still-heavy breath on my neck.

"I think I almost blacked out again."

"Almost?"

I grinned, kissing his lips lightly. "I'm sorry. I'll try harder to pass out next time."

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he spoke again. "Now that I've got you here, there's something serious I wanted to talk about."

I eyed him suspiciously. "And you were just fu.cking me into submission?"

He leaned over and kissed me lightly, grinning. "No. It's not bad serious. It's just something I've been thinking about."

"I don't like it when you think. I like it better when you're just my man candy that I can objectify."

"Shut up and listen to me. I think I want to move out of this apartment. Buy a place somewhere else."

"Where? Please don't say San Diego."

"Here."

"Okay. Wow, big news, Jake."

"Stop talking. I want to buy a new place and I want to buy it with you."

I was silent. I wasn't expecting it. Mostly because it was just something I'd never thought about, even though it made sense. "But-"

"It doesn't mean that you can't still live in New York, and I'm not trying to trap you into anything so you'll be forced to live here and be my housewife or whatever it is you're afraid of. But I'm serious about you, Daz, and I like to think that you're serious about me, and I think it would be nice if we had a place that was ours, that we started together."

He was right. I wasn't 19 any more; this was an adult relationship and the idea of having sleepovers at each others' places was probably ready to expire. And, even more than that, him suggesting it meant that he was in it for the long term. It wasn't a marraige proposal, but it was pretty damn close.

I rolled over so I was lying on top of him, my forearms resting on his stomach. "Okay. I'm in. But it has to be super pretty and expensive and I get to decorate it."

He laughed, wrapping his arms around me. "You can do whatever you want, Daria."

[comment with 'dirty water' if you read?]
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