It’s not that Finn doesn’t think October baseball isn’t thrilling, but sitting on his ass in the stands watching it be thrilling isn’t going to exactly be the same kind of rush as being involved in the outcome, no matter who else is on the field. He grimaces to himself as he digs around in the top shelf of his locker for the bobblehead from April he’s sure is still up there, feeling the tug on his shoulder as he does.
“Next year…” White claps his Finn on the back. “It was a hell of a good run anyway.”
“Yeah,” Finn says, finally curling his fingers around what feels like the bobblehead and re-emerging from his locker. “Two years in a row would’ve been too much to ask for, huh?”
“Can’t predict what the baseball gods will do next,” White says, shrugging. “Congrats to your Puck, by the way. Don’t tell the guys I said that.”
Finn laughs. “Oh I probably won’t even tell him you said that until playoffs are over. Believe me, you’d be able to see the smirk from Texas.” White holds his hands up in front of him.
“Hey, not that I want to give the Twins an edge. They did play some solid ball down the stretch, though.”
Finn finishes the sweep of his locker and hefts the now-full cardboard box onto his hip. “Don’t tell the guys I said this, but I can’t wait for them to win it all. And for Puck to….” He shakes his head. He knows he looks sappy, but if White notices, he’s too much of a good guy to say anything.
“Your secret’s safe with me, Huddy. See you in January.”
Finn salutes with his free hand and maneuvers himself and his box out of the locker room and to his car. The Twins have the A’s at home in the ALDS, so what Puck and Finn figured would work best is if Finn left his things at his KC apartment before joining Puck for Game 1. Their leases aren’t up until December, so they’ll swing by both places when the playoffs are over for Puck--whenever that ends up being--before heading home to Toledo.
Finn figures they’ll probably end up moving sooner rather than later--both of them have grown sort of strangely fond of bigger cities--but Toledo’s homey and relatively anonymous and it works for them for the time being.
He’s more slap-dash with his apartment than he’d admit, but it’s already been a full week since the last Twins series, and Finn’s going a little crazy wanting to congratulate Puck in person--preferably for hours and hours.
The 90-minute flight has never felt so long to Finn. Puck is in a team meeting, so Finn passes the time updating his tumblr, reading Flash recaps, and arguing with someone on Facebook about another Arrow crossover special. “Sure, if you want to drag Grant and Jesse down to Arrow level,” Finn mumbles crankily down at Nancy DuPont from Bozeman, Montana.
Finn paid extra for comfort class, so he’s one of the first ones off the plane with his definitely-pushing-acceptable-sized carryon and hailing a taxi within ten minutes of deplaning. They’re smack-dab in the middle of rush-hour traffic, but his cabbie deftly maneuvers them to Puck’s building quicker than Finn was anticipating. Finn hands her a hefty tip and speed-walks to Puck’s elevator. Based on the timing of Puck’s last text, Puck should already be home when Finn gets there, but Finn fumbles with his keys coming off the elevator anyway.
“C’mon in, dingus.” Puck is leaning in his open doorway, grinning at Finn. His grin gets even bigger when Finn abandons his carryon in the hallway and strides toward Puck, kissing him immediately, Puck’s back pressed against the doorjam and Finn’s hands already working their way under his tshirt.
“Mmmm,” Puck manages, tilting his head to the side as Finn kisses down to his neck. “Missed you too.”
“Mmmhmm.” Finn sucks hard on his favorite spot on Puck’s neck and bites down. He can feel Puck roll his hips at that, already hard, and he knows Puck must be holding back a moan. He considers very briefly drawing blood, but pre-series pressers are in less than 48 hours, and HDTV is unforgiving. Instead, he licks across the spot he bit and puts his mouth right against Puck’s ear. “Want a nice little scar somewhere else tonight?”
Puck whimpers a little, and Finn can feel him shudder. “What if I wanted to give you one instead, though? Huh?” Finn lifts his head in time to see Puck eyeing the inside of his apartment. “You know I keep everything on hand,” he says, lowering his voice. Finn nods as Puck slides his hand up under Finn’s shirt and along his ribs. “Maybe a nice one here? Mark you up so you know where your loyalties lie this week?”
“I think,” Finn breathes out, leaning into Puck’s touch, “you should make good and sure I remember.” Finn pauses long enough to kiss Puck again, hard. “Mr. October.”