#the wip for this drawing sat waiting in a folder for almost two whole years

[shadoweclipex]

I did another meme with some of my characters!

I saw this meme years ago and thought it fit my characters Midori and Murasaki Iro perfectly.

#original character #shadoweclipexart #anthro #anthropomorphic #oc #art #meme #art meme #dog memes #midori iro #murasaki iro #iro clan #iro family #canine #feline #dog #cat #furry anthro #furry art #the wip for this drawing sat waiting in a folder for almost two whole years #oc tober #I originally made the sketch for an OC tober drawing challenge

[takingcourage]

A Whole New Ballgame

Pairing: Drake x MC

Word Count: 2,150

Summary: Drake experiences his first Major League Baseball game with a very enthusiastic wife at his side.  

Note: Ever since the topic of a sports field came up during the tour of Valtoria, I’ve had this burning need for Drake Walker to attend a baseball game in America. This silly story has been a WIP for more than a year, but I got distracted writing other things and never finished it. Since PB has decided to send the crew to the US again in TRH, it seemed like the perfect time to dust it off and boot it out of my drafts folder. 

This story also fulfills a request that I received for a kiss on the back of the hand. 

“Do I really have to wear the hat, Wittman?” 

His wife assessed him quietly, grey eyes barely visible from under the bill of her own cap. “I’m not going to make you, but it would help make sure that no one recognizes us,” she considered with a shrug. “We want to blend in with the fans here. And dressing up is part of the baseball experience…”

Drake yanked the bright red cap over his hair and considered his appearance in their rearview mirror. The brim of the hat smacked the edge of the sun visor as he turned to get a look at the strands of hair shooting out from underneath the sweatband. “I look like an American.”

“You’re half American…”

“That doesn’t mean I have to dress like one.”

“Here,” she motioned for him to turn toward her. Jena pulled the cap back off his head, smoothing over the hair that fell to his forehead. His eyes closed involuntarily at the feeling of her nails dragging lightly against his scalp. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

Too soon, she tugged the cap forward again before making some final adjustments to brush the hair away from his ears. 

Drake had to admit that she’d done a better job than he had, but he still felt a bit silly brandishing a big white T across the crown of his head. The light in his wife’s eyes made it worthwhile, however. “Let’s go before you find something else for me to put on. I think the jersey and the hat are enough.”

“Drake, I promise you’ll be in good company. There are going to be a ton of people wearing Beltre jerseys. The man just retired after playing since the ‘90s.”

“I suppose it’s better than,” he leaned back in the seat to read her shirt, “better than Odor.”

“It’s pronounced Oh-door.”

“And you chose him because...?”

She colored vibrantly, mumbling, “Because he has a mean right hook.”

Drake gaped at his wife in disbelief. “This from the woman who doesn’t condone violence and nearly lost her mind when I agreed to fight a stuck-up nobleman?”

“Bautista kind of deserved it…” she offered, smiling as she made an exaggerated show of checking her face in the mirror. “And baseball players are always getting into fights. Haven’t you ever heard of bench-clearing brawls?”

“Sure, Wittman. I think you’ve got a thing for men who can throw punches.”

“Nope, just you.” She angled her face up to kiss his stubbled jaw, careful to avoid stabbing him with the end of her hat. “Let’s go, Walker.”

_____

As it happened, Drake felt a lot less ridiculous once they’d made it into the stadium. By the time they’d found their way to their seats and settled in, he was little more than a drop in the ocean of red, white, and blue. 

Jena sat beside him, completely enthralled. It was only the bottom of the first, but Drake found himself wondering if she could keep up this level of concentration for the entire game. He thought back to the other sporting events he’d seen with her, but couldn’t ever remember her being so fully engrossed in what was happening. 

Before the trip, she'd warned him that baseball was her weakness. Drake supposed he’d soon find out just what she’d meant by the expression. 

His eyes flicked to the scoreboard. If the numbers there were any indication, the third man in the Rangers’ lineup was likely to meet the same hitless fate as his the other two. 

Sure enough, the first pitch was a swing and a miss. 

Strike one!

Jena clapped for the pitcher enthusiastically, ponytail bobbing with the force of her movements. “C’mon! Three up, three down. Let’s go!”

Drake shook his head with amusement. “I thought we were supposed to be cheering for Texas?”

Her eyes still on the pitcher, Jena stretched a hand out toward him. “Today, I’m just cheering for good baseball.” 

Squeezing her fingers, he lifted their hands to his lips and kissed just beneath the hinge of her wrist. “Then I hope you get it.” 

Far as he was from understanding her obsession, he couldn’t complain at the opportunity it provided for just the two of them to get away from the ranch. After spending so many hours packed into Liam’s rental car, a full afternoon and evening with just his wife for company felt like a luxury. 

A young boy in the row before theirs teetered, his sudden movement drawing Drake from his thoughts. The child stood on one leg, holding a baseball in one hand while the other was swallowed by a stiff leather glove. He couldn’t be more than four or five years old, tongue between his teeth as he mimicked the stance that was being demonstrated on the field. With expert control, the boy threw his leg forward and swung his arm, hand never releasing its grip on the ball. 

Drake forced his eyes away, but not before his lips had curved into a grin. 

Strike two!

“This certainly isn’t his first game,” Jena observed, having followed her husband’s gaze.

“Heh, I guess not. Looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

“He just needs somebody to catch for him.” Her grey eyes darted from the field to her husband. 

Drake observed the group of people, trying to discern the relationship dynamics. “Doesn’t look like his sister is interested in playing.” Indeed, in the matter of minutes he’d been aware of the family sitting before them, he didn’t think she’d looked up from her book once. 

Strike three!

The inning over, Jena leaned back in the hard plastic seat and gave Drake her full attention. “You’re going to be a great catcher someday.”

His heart stuttered as he took the full meaning of her words. “I can’t wait to teach our kids all of that stuff. Come to think of it, I’ll probably have to teach Bartie those things too. Can’t see Bertrand taking him outside with a ball and glove.” 

Jena’s brow wrinkled in thought. “You never know. I think he’s done better with the whole fatherhood thing than either of us would have expected. He may just surprise us.” 

Drake grunted, feigning interest in watching the mascot dance across home-team’s dugout. It was going to be a long time before the elder Beaumont actually felt like a member of family. 

“But our kids will always have the advantage when it comes to sports, Walker.”

Smirking, he remembered his own childhood. “I used to be a catcher, you know. A long time ago.”

“I know,” she chimed in. From under the shadow of her hat brim, he could see her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smirked back. Her fingers drifted to his leg -- higher than his knee, but not high enough to get them thrown out of the park. “I think that’s why you have such great thighs,” she whispered behind his ear. 

He shivered against her words, incredulous for more than one reason. Quietly clearing his throat, he covered her hand with his own, daring her to keep them there as he spoke. “It’s been almost fifteen years since I’ve played, Wittman. There’s no way that experience has anything to do with the state of my thighs today.” 

“Just take the compliment, Walker.” 

He breathed a heavy sigh and slid both of their hands toward his knee. At this rate, it was going to be an extraordinarily long day. 

_____

Baseball was proving more time consuming than Drake remembered. More than an hour into the game, they still hadn’t come to the end of the third inning, nor had the action on the field been particularly noteworthy. Sucking a deep breath and reaching for his drink, he scanned crowd around them. The boy he’d noticed before had traded his glove and ball for a cup of frozen lemonade. His sister remained just as intent on her novel. 

Drake tried to imagine a much-younger version of his wife coming to games with her grandpa, her mitt poised and hair sticking out in pigtails under her hat. The mental image made him smile. 

More than that, it made him wonder for the thousandth time what it would be like for them to have children of their own. That was the whole purpose of leaving early for this trip, wasn’t it? Somewhat glumly, he tried to work out how much time remained of not only this game, but the one that followed. 

Damn doubleheader... 

Out of nowhere, Jena’s palm made sharp contact with his knee, jolting him from his sundry musings. 

"Ow!” he winced instinctively. 

"Did you see that? Did you see that double play? It was...” she paused for a moment to evaluate the field. “I think it was a 1-3-2-5-3-4...″ 

"It’s a little late for you to be giving me your number, don’t you think?” 

The comment earned him an exasperated sigh. 

"You missed it!" she accused, reading the uncertainty in his eyes. The flecks of silver shone brilliantly, even though her frustration was feigned. “What a way to end an inning.” 

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Wittman?” he inquired, taking advantage of having her undivided attention while the teams switched places. “I thought the whole purpose of coming out here early was to get some peace and quiet. You don’t seem very calm.” 

Jena tapped one long nail to her lip, drawing his eyes to that feature in a way that he knew was calculated to distract him from further critiques. “I will be very calm when we get back to the ranch. I promise.” 

“Still, I bet the press would have a field day if they knew we were spending nine hours watching baseball when we could be ensuring Cordonia’s future.”

She scoffed and straightened in her chair. “Watching baseball is a very effective form of stress relief, which makes this an extremely tactical approach,” she explained, allowing her calf to brush the side of his. 

“It’s not a great strategy if it stresses me in the process,” he argued, ignoring the contact. 

Jena’s lips kinked up in a mischievous smile. “I’ll help you calm down later.” 

_____

By the time the first game had drawn to a close, Drake was running with a theory that this sport had been invented as a form of torture -- especially for men with beautiful, baseball-loving wives. It had been days since they’d had this much time to spend alone together, but the most he’d gotten out of her was a quick series of kisses after the first and only home run. 

During their time in the States, Jena’s freckles had come out in the sun, and his eyes kept drifting over the feature with curiosity. For the better part of the last hour, he’d been fantasizing over the thought of kissing each and every one...

A pair of fingers hooked through the crook of his elbow, gliding softly against the sensitive flesh in the crease. The hairs on Drake’s neck stood tall as he felt his wife’s proximity. 

“We can leave if you want to. I’m not going to make you sit through another game if you’re miserable.” 

Drake recognized the olive branch she’d extended, but he wasn’t about to take away from something she so clearly loved. “I’m not miserable.”

She regarded him dubiously. 

“I mean, it gives me time with you, doesn’t it? And you’re obviously loving every minute of this. I’ve gotta say, Wittman, watching how much you’re getting into this is actually kinda fun.” 

Jena scratched the side of her nose a bit sheepishly. “I can tone it down if it’s too much.”

“Nope. Don’t you dare.” 

Her fingers tightened at his arm, and he covered them with a hand. “I won’t. Though I will try not to smack you again.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

“And I really will make it up to you later,” she purred, the words designed for his ears alone. “But for now,” she told him, voice growing lighter, “I’m going to stretch my legs for a while. I’ll be back in a few minutes. ”

Jena rose and stretched her entire body upward, popping up on her toes before she arched her back into a tantalizing curve. Eyes following her every move, he felt his resolve of just a minute before was quickly slipping away. 

Drake tried to maintain an innocent tone as he asked, "How long before I can take you home?" And get you back in bed? He didn't state the destination, but the sparkle in her eye told him she’d taken the hint. 

"I'm guessing at least another four hours. Get comfy, Walker." 

“Will do. But Wittman?” 

She leaned down toward him, fingertips brushing his knees. 

“Any chance baseball games in Valtoria could have a time limit?” 

#i don't love how this turned out #but i need it out of my draft folder #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #the royal romance #the royal heir #drake walker #drake x mc