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A New Tradition

Summary:

Honestly, that’s not even close to being the strangest thing Mike’s ever seen in a Major League clubhouse—he did share a clubhouse with David Wells, after all—but still.

Notes:

Writer's block sucks. This was originally supposed to be longer and there was supposed to be more jealousy from Mike toward the Ginny/Tommy friendship before he learns Ginny isn't interested in Tommy. Alas.

Eternal gratitude to [archiveofourown.org profile] ralbeleren for looking this over for me.

Work Text:

Mike’s not quite sure what to think when he walks into the clubhouse and stumbles on Tommy Miller parked on a stool between Ginny’s legs while she braids his hair. Honestly, that’s not even close to being the strangest thing Mike’s ever seen in a Major League clubhouse—he did share a clubhouse with David Wells, after all—but still. Since when did Tommy and Ginny become best friends?

Tommy’s got noise-cancelling headphones on—he’s toeing the slab against the Diamondbacks tonight—and it looks like he might actually be asleep, bracketed comfortably between Ginny’s knees. Ginny notices Mike watching, though, and gives him a minute nod before turning back to the task at hand.

Mike watches as Ginny runs her fingers deftly through Tommy’s blond curls and reaches up and plucks a bobby pin from between her teeth. She pins back a section of Tommy’s hair behind his ear and starts plaiting it, lightning quick, while Tommy holds himself still between her knees.

“Hey,” Mike says, coming over to hover behind Ginny’s shoulder while she works. “You guys make each other best-friends-forever necklaces yet?”

Ginny huffs and rolls her shoulders, squeezing the end of Tommy’s braid between her fingers. “Are you gonna just stand there drive-by commenting or are you gonna make yourself useful and get the rubber band off my wrist?” Ginny holds up her arm and waves it at Mike without even so much as looking at him.

Mike sighs and slides the band gently off her wrist. “Your highness?” He offers the rubber band to Ginny and she takes it, fingertips brushing against his. Mike lowers his arm and shoves his hands in his pockets.

Ginny finishes up Tommy’s braid and claps him on the shoulder. “You’re good to go. We match now,” she says, parting her own curls to reveal a braid tied off with a ribbon in Padres-blue.

Tommy gets up, grinning at her as he pulls his crumpled ballcap out of his back pocket and tugs it on. “Awesome. Thanks,” Tommy says, holding out his fist to her. “We should totally get Evers in on this. It can be a rotation thing.”

Ginny laughs and knocks her fist against Tommy’s. She climbs off her stool and turns to Mike, lifting her eyebrows at him in question. “Hey Lawson, want me to braid your beard?” she offers, waggling her fingers at him.

Mike runs a hand over his beard and pretends to think it over. “Dunno about that, Baker. This beard’s a national treasure.”

Ginny laughs again, a bright ringing sound that reverberates in Mike’s ears like the chiming of a bell.

“If you change your mind, let me know,” she says, winking at him as she pulls another rubber band out of her pocket and pulls her tangled curls back in a ponytail. Ginny grabs her warm-up jacket out of her locker and turns to leave.

“Hey,” Mike blurts out, and she tosses a look over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah?” Ginny shrugs on her jacket and zips it up.

“What happens if we lose,” he asks, reaching out and flicking a finger at the skinny braid that dangles over her shoulder.

Ginny smiles and shrugs. “We’ll just have to find a new tradition, I guess,” she says, turning and heading for the exit.

Mike shoves his hands in his pockets and watches her leave. Her laughter still rings in his ears.

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