Title: Of Baseballs and Plushies

Author: RueLi (ray-lee)

Summary: "Mihashi…why is there an imprint of a baseball on your cheek?"

Warnings: Abuse of ellipses and semicolons. Could be AbeMiha fluff if you strain your eyes for it.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the plot.

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Abe got to the field a bit earlier than usual this morning. It wasn't too out of the ordinary; he had already been up and about twenty minutes before his alarm had gone off. But he did find it odd to get there even before Mihashi did. He honestly didn't know how early the pitcher came; he only noted that the ace was almost always here before the rest of the team.

That's just like him, Abe thought. He finished dressing into his practice uniform and headed for the dugout to put on his cleats, greeting Momokan and Shinooka before he sat on the bench.

Not fifteen minutes later, Abe began to hear a few people moving within the changing room, along with some morning chatter. He concluded that it must be time to get started, and went to get his stuff together.

While Abe began collecting his catcher's gear, a familiar pattern of uncertain footsteps approached the catcher. "G-good morning…A…Abe-kun!"

Abe turned to take a quick glance to give the usual reply. But just as the catcher finished his greeting and looked back to his mitt, he had to pause and give a double-take at the pitcher. Almost instantly, Mihashi became visibly nervous at the worried look Abe was giving him. The catcher raised a pointed finger toward the pitcher. "What's that on your face?"

As if on cue, Mihashi gave a tilt of his head in perplexity--"Eh…?" --And dimwittedly pointed to his face to add to the obliviousness.

Upon closer inspection (and after giving a mental sigh of relief, putting aside the worst), Abe's face had instead taken on a very bewildered look. The pitcher was past the brink of puzzlement to the point where he began nervously wringing his hands on the front of his uniform.

"Mihashi…why is there an imprint of a baseball on your cheek?" Immediately, Mihashi's hands flew to his cheek, face turning red with obvious embarrassment.

Tajima, being Tajima, had eavesdropped on the conversation and bounded over to see what the fuss was about. One look at Mihashi, and the cleanup batter was instantly clutching his stomach, laughing to the brink of tears. "Wha! You can totally see the stitching!"

Uncertainty rose within Abe's stomach again. "Did you hurt yourself at home? I thought I told you not to pitch outside of practice!"

Mihashi cringed in alarm. And as he feared, Abe began ranting on the many ways he could've jeopardized his pitching arm. He probably deserved it, but the pitcher needed to assure the catcher that it wasn't what he thought. But…how to tell him in the middle of a scolding…?

"Hey Abe," Tajima shouted, instantly cutting off the irritated boy. "I don't think Mihashi was doing anything of the sort," he slung an arm around Mihashi, "isn't that right?"

Mihashi almost buckled in surprise at the sudden contact, but held strong. He'd have to thank Tajima later. His eyes began shifting uncontrollably as he gathered his words.

"I…I probably f-fell asleep w…with m-my, uh, baseball…again."

Abe didn't even know how to react to that. His face probably looked a cross between bewilderment and extreme irritation, much to Mihashi's dismay. Inevitably, the latter turned something fierce.

"You idiot!"

And, if possible, Mihashi shrunk even more with each stressed word, "Why on earth do you sleep with a baseball?"

But Abe already knew. Mihashi was so obsessed with pitching, after all.

He probably can't sleep most nights without the feel of a baseball in his hand.

And of course, Tajima had to ask the inevitable, "Why?"

Mihashi began wringing his uniform with his hands again. (Abe would have to remind him later that he shouldn't make a habit of that). But he ignored it and paused, patiently he might add, to hear Mihashi out.

"Um…a…a habit…I…th-think…" he took a pause to press his index fingers together in embarrassment.

"I…I guess it ended u-up on…m…my pillow…this morning."

WHAT! While he may not have shouted it to the frail boy, Abe was pretty sure that his face and tightly clenched fist showed it. Heck, he was convinced that there were negative waves radiating off himself, all aimed toward his pitcher's obliviousness.

But, for some odd reason (today was a day of odds and ends), Abe just...sighed.

Mihashi peeked from under the arms that had already covered his head, wondering why another barrage of words hadn't yet come. Even Tajima blinked a couple of times in dimwit surprise.

Was it really that big of a shock? He couldn't really answer that himself and, frankly, it just aggravated him even more. Abe grunted a bit, and roughly handed Tajima the catcher's mitt in frustration.

"Get in the bullpen Mihashi, you'll be pitching to Tajima for a bit while I go over stats with Hanai and Momokan."

The pitcher and clean-up were dumfounded, watching Abe walk away scratching his head.

But to break the tension, Tajima (once again), beamed with delight as he ran to go put his gear on, dragging Mihashi along playfully by the arm. "Alright! Bring it on!"

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The next day, practice ended on a good note. Everyone was too exhausted from the conditioning to go to their regular after-practice dinner, so they all voted to go straight home. All ten of them got on their bikes and began the long return to their families, eventually splitting off in one's or two's from the group to go their respective ways.

The group eventually dwindled down to Abe, Mihashi, and Tajima. But just as the trio were reaching the point in which the catcher would break off, Abe allowed for Tajima to get ahead of the group before stopping Mihashi. "Hold on, Mihashi."

"Eh?" The pitcher replied with his usual brainless stare.

Abe took a good sized bag out of his basket, and quickly placed it into Mihashi's bike bin.

Abe looked a bit flustered to Mihashi, but instantly turned it around to glare at the small blonde (earning a tiny yelp).

"Don't open it until you've gone home, understand?"

Mihashi lowered his guard and nodded his head frivolously, although still confused about the act.

For what seemed like the umpteenth time that season, Tajima took notice of the action and began poking at the contents in Mihashi's new package. "What is it?" –Earning him a good smack on the head from Abe.

"Mind your own business, you clean-up! Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong!!"

And with that, Abe waved them goodnight before he took off.

"…So, do you think it's porn?"

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Mihashi spent the rest of the ride with Tajima kindly declining his attempts into looking through the bag. In truth, Mihashi was quite curious about the bag's contents, but wanted to wait until he got home to open it.

The blonde set the bag down on the table in the living room and sat to stare at it. What could possibly be in it? It was fairly lighter than he imagined, but large enough to fit something like a mound of clothes.

Mihashi briefly thought that it was something to punish the pitcher with, but couldn't fathom Abe giving him something that a good noogie couldn't handle.

The pitcher fidgeted around the idea for a bit before curiosity consumed him. He gently opened the taped flap on top, and stuck his hand into the bag.

Mihashi's mother had just walked in to greet her son. But in looking at the object in the boy's hands, she squealed in delight. "How adorable, Ren-Ren! I didn't think that they made things like that. Had I known, I would've gotten you one ages ago!"

It was a stuffed baseball. About the size of a soccer ball, and covered in a soft white cotton material. Mihashi gave it a good squeeze within his hands. The stuffing was somewhat firm, enough to hold it's shape.

"Who gave it to you, Ren-Ren?"

Mihashi couldn't help himself, but he teared up from the overflow of emotions and chuckled a bit at the reasoning behind the act.

"Abe-kun."

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From that day on, Mihashi had yet to show up to practice with baseballs indented into his face.

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Hope you've enjoyed.

Critique welcomed.