Chapter Text
The late-afternoon sun dyed the white walls of the ROX Tigers training facility a deep orange. Minhyung adjusted the strap of the heavy bag on his shoulder, the leather groaning under the weight of all the stuff he had deemed necessary to bring on his first visit to the compound.
The brand new team windbreaker in navy and gold crinkled with every step he took and still smelled a little of the plastic wrapping it had been taken from just a couple hours ago.
Beside him, Han Wangho - the team’s other pitcher and captain - walked with quick steps. At first Minhyung had slowed his pace to make it easier for the shorter man to keep up, but that had only earned him a snort and a roll of eyes.
"And over there," Wangho said as they turned a corner, pointing toward a glass-fronted corridor, "that is the recovery wing. Hydrotherapy, cryo-chambers and our amazing physical therapists who will likely become your best friends at some point during the season."
Minhyung hummed a quiet agreement, his eyes wandering past the hallway to where the tunnel opened to the training field. It still felt surreal. After years of grinding through the minor leagues, giving his all for match after match after match, after being told his technique was too unconventional to go pro, he was finally here. Here with the Tigers of all teams and in this facility where legends were created.
"Come on," Wangho gestured, nudging him out the gate and onto the paved walkway that connected the different buildings, "I’ll show you the small field, before we head to the gym."
Just as they rounded the high, ivy-covered wall to their right, loud counting startled Minhyung into stumbling. "Five, six, seven, eight! One, two, three - hold!"
He caught himself on a vine, feeling his cheeks heat a little in embarrassment. Wangho chuckled, taking a sip from the water bottle he had fidgeted with during the whole tour. “That would be our cheer squad. They like to use the grounds for evening run-throughs when the weather is nice." He glanced sideways at Minhyung, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Nice to look at, aren't they?"
Minhyung didn't answer right away. Pretty cheerleaders weren't exactly new to him and frankly, he had never really understood the need for pom-poms, flying ribbons and high-kick routines. Shouldn't people that came to watch baseball be entertained enough by just that: baseball?
Suddenly his eyes caught on something though … someone. In the center of the group, amidst a swirling sea of bright blue uniforms, stood a single man.
He was tall and broad. Unreasonably, stunningly broad. Even from a distance, through the haze of the setting sun, Minhyung was able to admire the width of his back. The man wore a simple grey tank top, the fabric dark with a long line of sweat along his spine. His arms and legs were thick and looked like they had been carved from marble, pale and strong.
As Minhyung watched, mesmerized, the squad counted down once more and perfectly in sync with the women around him the single male cheerleader bent his knees, massive thighs flexing, and in one smooth motion he launched one of the women straight toward the sky. While she completed a flawless twist high above the grass, he followed her trajectory and caught her securely when she came back down to earth, absorbing the impact of her weight with ease, helping her back on her feet without missing a beat in the choreo.
Once the girl had fallen back into formation, a gentle smile broke across his face. He wiped the sweat off his neck with the hem of his top, revealing a strip of skin there and shook his head, black hair sent flying.
God, he's stunning.
Minhyung had trouble swallowing around his suddenly dry throat. The leather strap of his bag had slipped halfway down his shoulder, but he didn't even notice. The noise of the complex - the traffic beyond the fence, the crack of bats, the rustle of wind through the copse of trees - none of it mattered. "Yeah," he murmured, "Very pretty."
Wangho glanced at the new pitcher he'd soon share a position with. He watched the way Minhyung’s sharp eyes were practically burning holes into the cheer squad, but thankfully they were only filled with awe. Wangho had chosen this route on purpose, one too many players management had “blessed” him with had shown their true colours when confronted with the admittedly gorgeous cheerleaders and he liked to get a read on what he was working with, before wasting energy on assholes.
Wangho's grin widened into something wicked, but he kept his mouth shut when he noticed who exactly the other man was staring at, taking another sip of his water. "Come on, rookie," Wangho chuckled, slapping Minhyung on the back, startling the younger man back to reality, "The gym is waiting. You can admire the scenery later."
Minhyung dragged his eyes away with effort, but as he followed Wangho down the path, his mind remained with the cheerleader, his insane body and his sweet little smile.
Geonwoo wasn't even supposed to be at the complex today. It was an off-day for the cheer squad, twenty-four hours to rest and pretend they didn't live and breathe eight-count choreographies. However, he had managed to forget one of his favourite hoodies in the locker room and being the chronic overthinker that he was, he wanted to collect it before someone else got any ideas.
So here he was: wearing a baggy, old t-shirt that slipped a little off one of his shoulders and grey sweatpants his colleagues liked to tease him endlessly about, taking the shortcut past the main field to get to the locker room and then back to his bed faster.
The loud cracks of bats striking leather accompanied his path, although more often than he was used to, the whistle of a fastball was followed by the thud of the ball hitting the mitt of the catcher. Geonwoo paused outside the high mesh netting to watch the baseball team.
Standing on the raised mound in the center of the field was the new guy. The one the entire compound had been whispering about for the past three weeks: Lee Minhyung. A hotshot pitcher the Tigers had just signed to a record-breaking contract after a fierce bidding war with two other major league teams; charming and supposedly cocky to the point of arrogance, but with the statistics to back up the attitude.
Geonwoo's first thought was that the other man was surprisingly tall, roughly his own height if he had to guess. Maybe he had simply gotten too used to seeing Wangho's lithe form in that exact spot, but Minhyung looked almost obscenely big in comparison. And then there was the handsome face he had already seen when he had looked him up up. Sharp jawline, thick eyebrows, intense eyes - he looked like he belonged on a luxury watch billboard rather than a dirt mound.
Minhyung kicked his left leg high, his whole body coiling like a steel spring before exploding forward. The ball raced straight past the bat and into the waiting hands of the catcher. The sound was so loud that Geonwoo flinched, his heart suddenly galloping in his chest.
Holy shit, he's insane.
"He's not bad, right?" a cheerful voice drawled from right beside him. Geonwoo spun around, clutching a hand to his heart like a scandalised Victorian lady, to find Wangho leaning against the fence next to him.
"H-hyung, don't scare me like that!" Geonwoo stammered, his cheeks instantly flushing a bright pink as he was caught staring. “I was just passing by! I forgot something yesterday and I-"
Wangho laughed at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He pushed off the fence and nudged Geonwoo’s very tense shoulder with his own. Well, as close to the taller man’s shoulder as he could reach.
"Relax, Geonwoo-yah, nobody's accusing you of corporate espionage," Wangho chuckled, nodding toward the field. "See something you like?"
Alarms blared in Geonwoo’s brain at the deceptively innocent question. "What? No! I mean - he’s a great pitcher! His hip rotation looks very smooth when he throws!"
"Right, his hip rotation …," Wangho repeated, his voice dripping with insufferable levels of amused scepticism. "And you've been paying a lot of attention to that general area, huh?” He gave Geonwoo’s back an affectionate pat, his grin widening into something downright criminal. “But if it makes you feel any better, he was looking at you the exact same way yesterday during your practice."
Geonwoo froze solid. "He ... what?"
"Yep! Kept staring at you lifting the girls like you were a delicious steak and he hadn't eaten in a week. Anyway! I gotta go before Dohyeon catches me slacking. Always a pleasure, Geonwoo-yah!"
His cheerful whistling as he left him standing there, alone and very red, was soon drowned out by practise noise again. Geonwoo stood rooted to the spot, mouth slightly open, brain still stuck on that single, impossible sentence: "He looked at you the same way."
On the mound, Minhyung paused his preparation for another windup when he spotted the figure behind the netting, eyes locking directly onto Geonwoo. For three terrifying, endless seconds, neither of them moved a muscle. It felt like they were alone in the world, just them. Minhyung’s dark gaze flicked down to full lips, then up to wide eyes.
Squeaking out a sound that was deeply unbefitting of a man who could bench-press the equivalent of a baby elephant, Geonwoo turned on his heel and bolted down the path to the locker rooms
Hand resting on his hip, Minhyung watched the broad-shouldered cheerleader disappear into a building. He brought a hand up, tousling his damp hair, before putting his hat back on pinning the unruly strands into place. "Fuck," Minhyung muttered. "He's even prettier than I thought.”