A/N: Behold! The last inning is upon us. Will Alfred win over Natalia? Will he get smacked again? Is Toris safe? Or will they get interrupted again by another of Ivan's drunken phone calls? You will find out soon! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the final inning of Freddy Ballgame. Enjoy!

Ninth Inning

The loud clapping of the home fans signaling a well-handled inning coupled with the blood pounding in his ears creating a steady thump-thump rhythm allowed Alfred no concentration. He rubbed his temple and focused a tired eye on the wide-eyed Belarusian beauty sitting two seats over to his right. That his quest to win Natalia's heart was not going well had already long been established: Alfred had somehow managed to find himself dealing with a semi-conscious Belarusian not once, but twice in the small time span that America's past-time required.

Awww shit, the American passed a hand over the back of his sweating neck and wiped the perspiration off on his long-sleeve shirt, I'm so screwed. He quickly had to choose between lying to Natalia or give her the reason behind Toris' ass tattoo because any second now, the dumbfounded Belarusian would come to and demand if what he had said was the truth. Alfred could say he had only over dramatized the Lithuanian's affection for Natalia in his awesome impression of the Baltic nation.

Alfred sighed and shook his head at his friend's poor decision. Seriously, what kind of dude gets a friggin' tattoo on his ass?

According to his sources, Toris hadn't been a shining example of sobriety when the event had transpired. His buddy had been drunk (and possibly under the influence of other intoxicants... you never knew with the lax laws of the Dutch) when he had gotten the tattoo done at some shady place in Amsterdam. Another story claimed that Toris had gotten it done by a dominatrix who was a part-time tattoo artist in Prague. Or that he had gotten in with the wrong crowd in Warsaw and somehow ended up with the tat. Regardless of the theory, they all ended with an inked needle pressed up against the Lithuanian's left buttock.

Yeaaaaah, Alfred thought with resignation when he noticed Natalia's eyes flutter (she had pretty eyes), I'm gonna have to lie.

Toris was gonna owe him one.

Well.

Toris didn't know that he knew about that tattoo.

Wait a sec. Alfred paused, His left ass cheek? Whaaat.

"Oh, there's another thing you might find interesting."

"Yeah?" Alfred responded less interested in what the man sitting opposite him had to say and more in scanning his burger in search for the perfect place to make his first bite. His eyes located a portion of the burger where the cheese (American, of course) had melted perfectly into the patty. Satisfied, he brought the greasy food to his mouth.

As he was chewing, Alfred came to the conclusion that this meeting with Alejandro had been pointless. Sure, the guy had found out some useful information about Toris from the Lithuanian embassy, but nothing interesting. Nothing new at least. All the stuff the Mexican had dug up he already knew or simply reinforced some of his suspicions about Toris' crush on Natalia.

"Si," Alejandro answered as he shook the bottle of hot sauce over his slice of pizza.

Dammmmmmn, Alfred thought as he savored the beautiful combo attack the bacon, onion rings and BBQ sauce were unleashing upon his taste buds, I love food courts.

"So?"

"So," Alejandro repeated, "I was at a conference last weekend-"

"The one about deforestation?"

"Si." The man paused to stroke his mustache patiently waiting for his neighbor to say anything else. Perhaps provide a reason for his absence at the conference, but when the American didn't, he continued. "The session broke for lunch. So, I went to the bathroom, you know, did my business. When I open my stall to exit, I see Toris right there at the urinal across me," Alejandro leaned in to lower his voice, wiggling his mustache, "Gilberto and Francisco come up behind him and you know what they do?"

"What?" Alfred lowered his half-burger, too caught up in the story to take a bite.

"They, how do you say..." Alejandro said struggling to find the right word, "They 'pantsed' him."

"That so?" Alfred leaned back unimpressed and bit his burger. Who -hadn't- pantsed Toris at some point? Seriously, the guy needed to take his head out of Lala Land when he was taking a piss. Even Elizaveta had done it... though no one had asked what she was doing in the men's room to begin with. Not when she was carrying that frying pan around.

"But that's not the interesting part." Alejandro said taking a bite out of his hot-sauced covered eggroll-on-a-stick.

"Yeah?"

"He has a butt tattoo."

"Ha! No way!" Alfred grinned. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. Gilberto and Francisco ran off right away, so I doubt they noticed."

"Of what?"

"Eh?"

"What's the tattoo of?"

"'Наталия.'"

"Whoa, you know Russian?"

"Almost everyone learned Russian and English during the Cold War, Alfredo."

"Oh yeah..." Alfred said to himself. That little flashback his brain had decided to play for him right there also reminded Alfred that he had to frame a signed Rita Hayworth poster for Alejandro. The dude had requested that as payment for his intel-gathering efforts. One would think that he'd want something more valuable and awesome like... a backyard roller coaster.

Fuck yeah, he grinned, a backyard roller coaster. Alfred, you're a genius.

Natalia rapidly blinked, watering her dried eyes.

The buzz of the crowd, the heat of the night, and the announcer's voice echoing through the stadium reminded her of her present location.

"Fuck yeah," Jones cursed to her left, "a backyard roller coaster. Alfred, you're a genius."

Referring to himself in the third-person? Quite often a sign of a narcissist. No surprise there. Speaking of a backyard roller coaster? He certainly had the funds and credit line to foolishly spend it on any pet project that caught his fancy. Did Jones not realize the severity of her situation? Most likely not. If Jones' allegation turned out to be true, the world would be one country short before the week was out. As it was Lithuania, the Belarusian doubted anyone would notice right away.

"Is it true?" Natalia demanded sharply, the murderous intent lacing her voice aiming to bring the American back to Earth, "Is it?"

Jones flinched. He cocked his head and stared at her for a while as if analyzing her features. Just as Natalia was about to smack him again for lack of manners, (had the Englishman not taught his ward that staring was impolite?) she was answered with a simple "nah".

"I was just kidding," Jones explained, picking up his soda to slurp the melted ice, "and don't frown so much. You don't wanna wrinkle that rockin' face of yours, do 'ya?"

Natalia blinked and pulled back quietly. She didn't know what he had meant by "rockin'", but she had gotten a fair idea by the wink the American had included along with his statement.

Yes, everyone knew Jones was an idiot. The times she had seen him serious were far and few in between. The time Natalia had stayed with the American following the break up of the Soviet Union she had rarely seen him- Jones had been with his boss trying to figure out to what extent the breakup of the USSR would affect world politics and what it would mean to the United States, now the lone superpower in the world.

Jones could be a decent man when he wanted to be, as evidenced by the fact that he kept sending her DVDs out of the blue. Having been a country that had gone through extended difficult economic situations in the past, she knew, as did many, that nothing in life was free. Which is why she found it strange that after years of receiving movies and television shows, the American had yet to demand payment or a favor in return for the respectable film library she now possessed in her home in Minsk.

"What?" Jones grinned, "You disappointed Toris doesn't have the tat on his tooshie?"

Jones was a crude, uncouth, annoying and arrogant individual. It was baffling really: Kirkland had expressed and maintained gentlemanly behavior (in Europe) when the British Empire had existed. The United States had no such empire, not formally at least, but its influence in the word was great. Is it not reasonable to expect that the lone superpower in the world be a bit more mature and serious?

It was often the case that the American would sleep through entire debates: in one conference, Jones had remarked that the other countries present already knew his position on the topic from deciding whether to oppose or support the American stance. Then, there would be times that Jones would do a complete 360, such as the time he had bought the largest pizza available in New York, set it dead center on the conference table with ease, and told the room to "take a break and dig in". Even today, Natalia was at a loss in deciding what had been more shocking: that the pizza toppings had been arranged to form a mosaic of George Washington's face, or that Jones had been considerate enough to make sure a quarter of the gigantic pie was vegetarian. And in between all this, Jones somehow managed to find the time to practice his impersonations of other countries.

"Of course not," Natalia finally answered with no expression on her face. She looked away and stared at the baseball diamond, observing members of the away team taking their place on the field. "You are very childish. Did you know that?" The woman continued in a calm tone still not looking at the man. "One would expect that you, knowing your position in world affairs, would act more mature. But as Brother is correct in saying: 'expect nothing of the Americans'."

The half-inning went by before Alfred knew it. He warily observed the home team come to bat in an attempt to salvage the game. They would have to score five runs to tie the game and another to win it, but seeing as it was the bottom of the lineup coming to bat and they only had three outs to work with, chances are the game was lost.

But who won or who lost the game was irrelevant to him at this point. Alfred was long used to not fulfilling the expectations of others, but knowing that he had failed Natalia, by acting childish no less... had he gone overboard today? No, she had meant her comment to be more of a blanket statement than as a comment about their outing. Little wonder why Natalia found him to be insufferable.

Alfred slouched in his chair. He had dug himself into a hole so deep, he didn't know how far he would have to climb to get himself out of it. It was only his first "date" with Natalia and she already hated him. Of course, she hadn't said that exactly, but she might as well have.

Alfred sighed. He took his glasses off with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. It seemed that the more interaction he had with her, the more she seemed to dislike him. His original plan had entailed that Natalia and he become friendly before he asked her out. Considering the severity of the situation, Alfred would have to scrap the plan and employ the "Kiku Maneuver": an outright confession.

The characters in Kiku's shows seemed to have no problem doing so. The idea of asking her point-blank and setting himself up to be shot down didn't set well with Alfred. But then, at least he'd know where he stood with her and there would be no more beating around the bush.

Alright. Alfred thought as a ball was pelted into the outfield, Here goes nothing.

Natalia was just getting accustomed to the peaceful lack of the American's voice when she heard him call out to her. She contemplated ignoring him, but quickly decided to give him her attention: only three more outs and the game would end and she'd be a free woman. For the night at least: Natalia would have to deal with the American the next day and the day after.

"Hey! Check this out," the American rolled up the long sleeve of his red undershirt as far as it could go to expose his arm to Natalia. She raised an eyebrow, puzzled as to what crazy thing the American would do next.

Jones reached into his pocket to retrieve a ball point pen, uncapped it with his teeth and then wrote "NATALIA" on his bicep all in one swift motion.

"Check it out," Jones repeated this time with a grin as he repeatedly flexed his bicep. "My heart beats for you."

A blush creeped up on her cheeks.

There was no way the American would do such a thing. No way.

Jones... he hadn't- he hadn't just... had he? No. NO.

He was only acting like an imbecile. Yes, that has to be it, Natalia concluded, wondering why her face had gotten warm all of a sudden. The American was just being what he was: an American.

The poor fool couldn't help it.

"I would appreciate it if you were to remove my name," Natalia said with a difficulty that surprised herself.

"Huh? Oh. Sure." Jones gave her a hurt look, "Do you have hand sanitizer or something?"

Natalia shook her head, still not making eye contact.

"Oh," the American looked down, "Okay. Uhh... I'll just use my spit then."

The Belarusian eyes widened, "Excuse me?" She squawked as her eyes tracked his mouth aiming in the direction of her name.

"Huh?"

"My name will not be removed with your saliva!" She voiced indignantly, but in a whisper- there was no need to inform their section about what was occurring.

Jones frowned. "Well then, how d'ya suggest it come off? I haven't exactly got the help of Artie's magic fairy friends to make it go away."

Was he being smart with her?

"Just," She began, keeping her cool, "Just leave it alone for the time being."

Jones shrugged. "You're the boss."

That settled, Natalia gazed up at the scoreboard and saw the home team would have some catching up to do if they wanted to be the victors. Given that it was the last inning, the chances of that were small, especially because the visiting team had brought in yet another pitcher, this one being the "closer" to her understanding.

She hadn't said anything. No response.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Sure, Alfred had confessed in his own way, but any doofus would be able to tell what he had just done... right? Natalia hadn't rejected him. Nor had she accepted.

Alfred groaned. Should he have just said: "For the last few years, I've been crushing on you. So much so that I employed my annoying southern neighbor to do some espionage on... nevermind that. The point is, I like you. So, please go out with me."

….

…

..

… Blegh. Alfred thought, That sounded terrible.

The groans in the stands indicated the closer had swiftly gotten rid of the first batter on a pop-up to right field. Two more outs and the game would be over. The visiting team's closer was one of the best in the game, so Alfred expected the game to be over within the next ten minutes or so. Heck, the hometeam fans knew this to be true and had started filing out of their rows and out of their sections to leave the stadium.

Alfred knew he had to clear things up before they joined the crowd to leave the venue. He had a suspicion that once they got back home, Natalia would lock herself up in her guest room for the remainder of the weekend all because he had weirded her out with his antics. But... who's to say the same would not happen if he told her that he liked her? Well... at least then she'd know he wasn't kidding around.

Alfred ran a hand down his cheek (a tad bit too hard, causing him to flinch when his hand touched the Natalia-incured bruises on his face) and let let out a sigh in resignation.

One hand over his eye, he watched as the third out was delivered. There were no cheers, as the visiting team had trounced the home team. He let his hand fall and spotted Natalia quickly gathering her things and kicking the trash over to his side to form a small barrier between them.

It's like she's building an Iron Curtain of trash...

"Hurry, Jones," Natalia said from her full height not meeting his eyes as she shifted the strap on her tote to a more comfortable position.

Alfred nodded and picked up his army satchel without bothering to close it.

"Okay, but there's something I have to tell you first."

Natalia had a notion what it was the American wanted to say. The thought of it discomforted her, if her burning ears and sudden elevated temperature were anything to go by.

Jones rose up from his chair and stood tall, chest out. He wasn't as tall as her brother was, but he was still some way up. The American pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as his forehead wrinkling with determined purpose.

"I like you."

Natalia blinked.

"When I say that, I don't mean it in the friendly sense. I mean it in the sense that I am... uhhhh... smitten with you."

The American paused for a bit to look into the field where the teams were congratulating one another on a good game. Alfred tried to be confident, but it was easier said than done. After all, he was finally confessing after almost ten years of crushing on her.

Inspired by the scene, he turned back to Natalia and continued, "I've liked you for, for a long time now. You're probably thinking that you barely know me, but to that I say: you know a part of me that know one else does."

Seeing the confusion in Natalia's eyes, he quickly scurried to provide an explanation. He was on a roll- it was no time to be screwing it up. "I mean the movies! The movies and tv shows I've been sending you? I read in a Cosmo that you can tell a lot by the kinds of movies a man likes, so I sent you the ones I liked."

Natalia suddenly understood.

Why Alfred F. Jones had been making a fool of himself in her presence: it partly had to do with being the idiot that he was, but the rest was accounted for his bright idea of following relationship advice detailed in a magazine targeted at American women. Natalia knew what Cosmo was: every grocery seemed to be stocked with it in Europe and because Jones spent a lot of time in the checkout line at his local supermarket what with the amount the man ate, of course he probably flipped through it while the cashier swiped his countless items.

Natalia sighed and shook her head: the American had surprised her and discovered a new level stupidity previously unknown to man. Every Star Wars film, every episode of Looney Tunes, every box set collection of Chaplin and The Three Stooges, multiple seasons of Battlestar Galactica and The X-Files that she had received in the mail suddenly made sense. She didn't know whether to be furious that the American's motive in sending her free entertainment was to get closer to her, or to snigger at Jones' belief that thousands of hours of movies and television shows was going to help to gain an understanding of the man that was Alfred F. Jones.

She didn't stay angry for long. Natalia was well aware that she could have thrown the movies out when she couldn't figure out why the American was sending her the free packages. And she hadn't.

"You don't have to give me an answer now," Jones ran his hand through his hair, "Uh... just give me one before you go back... back to Minsk, alright?" The American scratched his forehead lightly, as if contemplating whether to add more. "I... I'd be cool with going out secretly. I-if that's what you want."

Natalia observed the American, standing tall, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and fists clenched as if bracing himself for her response, whatever it may be.

"First," she began, "we must purchase hand sanitizer."

A/N: It was a pleasure writing this AmeBela fic. I started Freddy Ballgame because I felt there wasn't sufficient material written on this pairing, so I decided to write my own. It's been a year since then and there have been more stories added to this awesome pairing, which is great! :-D The number is still small enough that I can safely say that I've read most of them, even if I haven't left behind a review :-P . Well, I hope you enjoyed the ride. I know I did!

Cheers,

Nitrolead