![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
TITLE: "Clown"
AUTHOR: Cathryn (catslash33@yahoo.com)
FANDOM: MLB, Yankees - Alex Rodriguez/Derek Jeter
RATING: PG-13 for language
SUMMARY: Spring is a new beginning.
NOTES: Written for the lyricwheel challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sslyricwheel
NOTE THE SECOND: Big thanks to Trot Nixon for the title. *snicker*
DISCLAIMER: Legalese incoming! Feel free to skip if you're not a legal type, because if you're here, then you know the drill (fiction, etc). I'm just feeling a touch paranoid these days: Any similarity between the fictional version of the persons portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said persons on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said persons).
Alex misses Derek a lot over the winter.
Derek barely spoke to him after Game Six. Just in his capacity as captain, terse sentences that wasted no syllables or breath or time on him, and eyes like ice daring him to make it personal. They parted ways after the series without so much as a shared look, never mind a goodbye. Alex is so angry that Derek won't see his side of things that it's easy to pretend that this is okay.
A couple times during the winter, though, when he's really been drinking hard, pain grips him, and he calls Derek so late at night that it's early in the morning. The first time, a woman answers. He goes cold and hangs up fast, and his eyes sting. The next morning he complains to Cynthia about the dust and has the house scrubbed clean. The second time he gets the answering machine, and the message he leaves is so ramblingly pathetic that the next morning he hopes that Derek is still pissed enough to hit delete as soon as he hears Alex's voice.
**********
Alex genuinely does not care what Trot Nixon thinks. It gets embarrassing when just about every member of the Red Sox chimes in, yeah, even David frigging Wells, and what David Wells has to do with anything is way the hell beyond him, but Alex can deal. He knows just what he'll say when he gets there, some light, nimble phrases that will make people laugh and wonder how he could have been villified in the first place.
He also knows what he'll have to say about the silence from the Yankees. And mostly, he doesn't mind so much. Sure, it'd be nice if they had his back, but he can't blame them for leaving him on his own. It does sting a little, though, that they won't say a word for him, but they practically trip over themselves to assure the media that the relationship with David Wells is A-okay. Why the fuck is David Wells so important when it's Alex who's on the team now? (Wells, again with Wells, Alex tries not to be superstitious but he can't help wondering if this is an omen. He'll have to watch himself with Wells this year.)
He does mind, a lot, that Derek makes an extensively vocal point of not saying anything for him. "I'm sure he'll address it," he says, and Alex can hear the contempt in his voice through the words on the page. It wasn't there, he knows, because Derek wouldn't give the media such a gift, but he can hear it anyway.
**********
The press conference goes off without a hitch. Alex knows without a doubt that he's put the right vibe out there, and provided some solid quotes and given the Sox and their fans a thing or two to chew on. He's especially pleased with himself for "forgetting" Arroyo's name. That was a nice touch.
And after that he doesn't really care, because it's time for spring training.
**********
Usually Alex likes running - the mechanics of it, the easy rhythm, testing how far he can push himself - but right now he's not really paying attention. He's watching Derek, up ahead of him, and making sure he keeps at just the right pace to avoid getting close enough that his staring is obvious. He hasn't seen Derek since Game Seven. He'll have to talk to him, eventually, and see how things are, but at the moment he's content just to look.
Then Alex almost trips over a clump of something, and decides it might be a better idea to watch what he's doing instead.
He feels someone draw up next to him and looks over to see Gary in full default smirk mode.
"Lookin' good, Alex."
Alex goes hot in the face and is about to retort, when Gary gives him a lingering lookover and continues, "Lookin' real good." A quick leer, then he puts on a little speed and pulls away. Alex makes a face at his back, wondering why he has to trip when he's mostly minding his own business, but Gary pulls lame shit like that and gets to keep his dignity.
And shit, he doesn't want to do this all over again. He thought Gary got the Not Interested message last year. Making him back the hell off was a tricky and exhausting process, and Alex still wonders if Derek didn't finally settle things by pulling Sheff aside for a quiet word or two behind Alex's back. Maybe Gary thinks that everything starts fresh in the spring.
Or maybe he thinks that Derek isn't a factor anymore.
Maybe he's not wrong.
Probably he's not wrong.
Shit.
But.
Alex realizes that he's focused back in on Derek. Maybe, he thinks, Sheff's not wrong about the fresh start. Maybe Derek's cooled off. And if he hasn't, so what? Alex has the whole season to play things right and work it all out. Well. He's supposed to prioritize the team over Derek this year, but he can do that too. Make it spring training. Six weeks to concentrate on Derek, then, whichever way it goes, he can shift focus when the season starts.
Whichever way it goes. Okay. He doesn't even know what's going on in Derek's head right now. Maybe he won't even have to do any work.
But that's not how to approach it, that's off-putting and potentially embarrassing. Derek might still - well. If Alex really plays it right, Derek doesn't even have to know that he's trying.
Either way. If he's got six weeks to work in, it's time to start laying the groundwork.
Alex takes a deep breath and runs a little faster to catch up to Derek.
He doesn't look over right away, or say anything, or give any sign that he notices who he's next to, or that he's next to anyone at all. He does concentrate on his peripheral vision, though, and sees Derek's eyes flicker briefly toward him.
A reflexive glance may not exactly be a win, but he'll take what he can get. He's not about to leave it to Derek to speak first, though - they probably wouldn't exchange a word all season if he did.
"Hey." Casual, breathless from exercise - acknowledgement and nothing more. Good.
"Hey." Also not much to be taken from Derek's tone, unless one counts the assurance that he too is straining for just the right note. Which Alex does.
"So how was your winter?"
"Long." Pause. "Cold." Pause again, and now Alex remembers that Derek doesn't really like to talk while he runs. Oops. "Snowy."
He almost says that Derek should have come down, then, no snow in Florida, but catches himself in time. That's exactly the kind of thing he's trying not to say. "Yeah, you guys really got dumped on this year."
"Yeah."
Silence. Alex does sneak a look at Derek now, but Derek's gaze stays resolutely ahead. It occurs to him that Derek could be watching him the same way he was watching Derek a moment ago, and he hastily looks away.
A moment or two passes. Then Derek, abruptly: "Got your message."
"Shit." Alex gives Derek a look that he is supposed to see, full of wryly appealing embarrassment. It's one he's practiced a few times over the winter, along with the accompanying spiel: "I'm sorry, Derek, I was really shitfaced that night. Dunno if I blacked out what I said or if I just got so stupid I don't want to remember," followed by a light chuckle calculated to draw Derek out a little and make him relax.
He gets as far as, "I'm sorry, Derek, I was really shi-" Derek cuts him off.
"Don't wanna hear it." He still doesn't look at Alex. Hasn't since the initial glance. He speaks in staccato, each phrase punctuated by a quick breath. Like his concentration is on the exercise instead of the words. "Whatever you've come up with. To be charming. Not interested. Not gonna be charmed. Not good for the team. Need your head in the game. Mine, too. Last year's done. Fix those mistakes. Get it right this year."
Despite the exercise and the heat, Alex's skin goes cold. This time he can't stop himself. "Mistakes?"
"Yes." Derek's voice is flat and uncompromising.
"Oh." Alex can't breathe. "Okay. Well, fuck you, too." Can't breathe. He stops running and half walks, half staggers off the field. He expects to be stopped, doesn't know what he'll do if he is, but no one bothers to try.
**********
"Everybody's Fool," Evanescence. Lyrics provided by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nycscribbler. Who is totally my favorite WNBA slashfic writer. *g*
Fic-relevant lines bolded for your convenience.
perfect by nature
icons of self indulgence
just what we all need
more lies about a world that
never was and never will be
have you no shame don't you see me
you know you've got everybody fooled
look here she comes now
bow down and stare in wonder
oh how we love you
no flaws when you're pretending
but now i know she
never was and never will be
you don't know how you've betrayed me
and somehow you've got everybody fooled
without the mask where will you hide
can't find yourself lost in your lie
i know the truth now
i know who you are
and i don't love you anymore
it never was and never will be
you don't know how you've betrayed me
and somehow you've got everybody fooled
it never was and never will be
you're not real and you can't save me
somehow now you're everybody's fool
**********
Any similarity between the fictional version of the persons portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
AUTHOR: Cathryn (catslash33@yahoo.com)
FANDOM: MLB, Yankees - Alex Rodriguez/Derek Jeter
RATING: PG-13 for language
SUMMARY: Spring is a new beginning.
NOTES: Written for the lyricwheel challenge at
sslyricwheelNOTE THE SECOND: Big thanks to Trot Nixon for the title. *snicker*
DISCLAIMER: Legalese incoming! Feel free to skip if you're not a legal type, because if you're here, then you know the drill (fiction, etc). I'm just feeling a touch paranoid these days: Any similarity between the fictional version of the persons portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said persons on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said persons).
Alex misses Derek a lot over the winter.
Derek barely spoke to him after Game Six. Just in his capacity as captain, terse sentences that wasted no syllables or breath or time on him, and eyes like ice daring him to make it personal. They parted ways after the series without so much as a shared look, never mind a goodbye. Alex is so angry that Derek won't see his side of things that it's easy to pretend that this is okay.
A couple times during the winter, though, when he's really been drinking hard, pain grips him, and he calls Derek so late at night that it's early in the morning. The first time, a woman answers. He goes cold and hangs up fast, and his eyes sting. The next morning he complains to Cynthia about the dust and has the house scrubbed clean. The second time he gets the answering machine, and the message he leaves is so ramblingly pathetic that the next morning he hopes that Derek is still pissed enough to hit delete as soon as he hears Alex's voice.
**********
Alex genuinely does not care what Trot Nixon thinks. It gets embarrassing when just about every member of the Red Sox chimes in, yeah, even David frigging Wells, and what David Wells has to do with anything is way the hell beyond him, but Alex can deal. He knows just what he'll say when he gets there, some light, nimble phrases that will make people laugh and wonder how he could have been villified in the first place.
He also knows what he'll have to say about the silence from the Yankees. And mostly, he doesn't mind so much. Sure, it'd be nice if they had his back, but he can't blame them for leaving him on his own. It does sting a little, though, that they won't say a word for him, but they practically trip over themselves to assure the media that the relationship with David Wells is A-okay. Why the fuck is David Wells so important when it's Alex who's on the team now? (Wells, again with Wells, Alex tries not to be superstitious but he can't help wondering if this is an omen. He'll have to watch himself with Wells this year.)
He does mind, a lot, that Derek makes an extensively vocal point of not saying anything for him. "I'm sure he'll address it," he says, and Alex can hear the contempt in his voice through the words on the page. It wasn't there, he knows, because Derek wouldn't give the media such a gift, but he can hear it anyway.
**********
The press conference goes off without a hitch. Alex knows without a doubt that he's put the right vibe out there, and provided some solid quotes and given the Sox and their fans a thing or two to chew on. He's especially pleased with himself for "forgetting" Arroyo's name. That was a nice touch.
And after that he doesn't really care, because it's time for spring training.
**********
Usually Alex likes running - the mechanics of it, the easy rhythm, testing how far he can push himself - but right now he's not really paying attention. He's watching Derek, up ahead of him, and making sure he keeps at just the right pace to avoid getting close enough that his staring is obvious. He hasn't seen Derek since Game Seven. He'll have to talk to him, eventually, and see how things are, but at the moment he's content just to look.
Then Alex almost trips over a clump of something, and decides it might be a better idea to watch what he's doing instead.
He feels someone draw up next to him and looks over to see Gary in full default smirk mode.
"Lookin' good, Alex."
Alex goes hot in the face and is about to retort, when Gary gives him a lingering lookover and continues, "Lookin' real good." A quick leer, then he puts on a little speed and pulls away. Alex makes a face at his back, wondering why he has to trip when he's mostly minding his own business, but Gary pulls lame shit like that and gets to keep his dignity.
And shit, he doesn't want to do this all over again. He thought Gary got the Not Interested message last year. Making him back the hell off was a tricky and exhausting process, and Alex still wonders if Derek didn't finally settle things by pulling Sheff aside for a quiet word or two behind Alex's back. Maybe Gary thinks that everything starts fresh in the spring.
Or maybe he thinks that Derek isn't a factor anymore.
Maybe he's not wrong.
Probably he's not wrong.
Shit.
But.
Alex realizes that he's focused back in on Derek. Maybe, he thinks, Sheff's not wrong about the fresh start. Maybe Derek's cooled off. And if he hasn't, so what? Alex has the whole season to play things right and work it all out. Well. He's supposed to prioritize the team over Derek this year, but he can do that too. Make it spring training. Six weeks to concentrate on Derek, then, whichever way it goes, he can shift focus when the season starts.
Whichever way it goes. Okay. He doesn't even know what's going on in Derek's head right now. Maybe he won't even have to do any work.
But that's not how to approach it, that's off-putting and potentially embarrassing. Derek might still - well. If Alex really plays it right, Derek doesn't even have to know that he's trying.
Either way. If he's got six weeks to work in, it's time to start laying the groundwork.
Alex takes a deep breath and runs a little faster to catch up to Derek.
He doesn't look over right away, or say anything, or give any sign that he notices who he's next to, or that he's next to anyone at all. He does concentrate on his peripheral vision, though, and sees Derek's eyes flicker briefly toward him.
A reflexive glance may not exactly be a win, but he'll take what he can get. He's not about to leave it to Derek to speak first, though - they probably wouldn't exchange a word all season if he did.
"Hey." Casual, breathless from exercise - acknowledgement and nothing more. Good.
"Hey." Also not much to be taken from Derek's tone, unless one counts the assurance that he too is straining for just the right note. Which Alex does.
"So how was your winter?"
"Long." Pause. "Cold." Pause again, and now Alex remembers that Derek doesn't really like to talk while he runs. Oops. "Snowy."
He almost says that Derek should have come down, then, no snow in Florida, but catches himself in time. That's exactly the kind of thing he's trying not to say. "Yeah, you guys really got dumped on this year."
"Yeah."
Silence. Alex does sneak a look at Derek now, but Derek's gaze stays resolutely ahead. It occurs to him that Derek could be watching him the same way he was watching Derek a moment ago, and he hastily looks away.
A moment or two passes. Then Derek, abruptly: "Got your message."
"Shit." Alex gives Derek a look that he is supposed to see, full of wryly appealing embarrassment. It's one he's practiced a few times over the winter, along with the accompanying spiel: "I'm sorry, Derek, I was really shitfaced that night. Dunno if I blacked out what I said or if I just got so stupid I don't want to remember," followed by a light chuckle calculated to draw Derek out a little and make him relax.
He gets as far as, "I'm sorry, Derek, I was really shi-" Derek cuts him off.
"Don't wanna hear it." He still doesn't look at Alex. Hasn't since the initial glance. He speaks in staccato, each phrase punctuated by a quick breath. Like his concentration is on the exercise instead of the words. "Whatever you've come up with. To be charming. Not interested. Not gonna be charmed. Not good for the team. Need your head in the game. Mine, too. Last year's done. Fix those mistakes. Get it right this year."
Despite the exercise and the heat, Alex's skin goes cold. This time he can't stop himself. "Mistakes?"
"Yes." Derek's voice is flat and uncompromising.
"Oh." Alex can't breathe. "Okay. Well, fuck you, too." Can't breathe. He stops running and half walks, half staggers off the field. He expects to be stopped, doesn't know what he'll do if he is, but no one bothers to try.
**********
"Everybody's Fool," Evanescence. Lyrics provided by
nycscribbler. Who is totally my favorite WNBA slashfic writer. *g*Fic-relevant lines bolded for your convenience.
perfect by nature
icons of self indulgence
just what we all need
more lies about a world that
never was and never will be
have you no shame don't you see me
you know you've got everybody fooled
look here she comes now
bow down and stare in wonder
oh how we love you
no flaws when you're pretending
but now i know she
never was and never will be
you don't know how you've betrayed me
and somehow you've got everybody fooled
without the mask where will you hide
can't find yourself lost in your lie
i know the truth now
i know who you are
and i don't love you anymore
it never was and never will be
you don't know how you've betrayed me
and somehow you've got everybody fooled
it never was and never will be
you're not real and you can't save me
somehow now you're everybody's fool
**********
Any similarity between the fictional version of the persons portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Seriously, too enjoyable. Forgetting Arroyo's name on purpose, yeah, we all know he did that. Gary Sheffield as creepy leering old man, yeah, we all know that's true.
You, girl, need to write more. Seriously, I wanted this to just keep going in a rambling fashion so I'd have more of it to read ;)
From:
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A friend of mine suggested that I write an A-Rod/Jeter story with periodic updates covering the upcoming season. This was quickly dismissed as I pointed out that I would actually have to actively follow the Yankees, which, ew. If I were to lose my MIND and do that, though, I guess I've got the beginning right here.
As for Sheffield, he originally had a bigger role. I had a whole disturbing (non-graphic) sex scene written as the ending and everything. Frankly, I'm relieved that it ended up not fitting. Because, again, ew. I thought about cutting the bit with him since it doesn't go anywhere, but I kind of needed the segue, and I also like the bit with Alex being annoyed that he tripped and Sheff didn't.
Thanks for the comment, I'm glad you liked. =D
From:
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Anyway, fun little story. Jeter, ever the workaholic. Poor, pining Princess. I like the Sheff inclusion too. It has more meaning to me now since "the incident" at Fenway.