Chapter Text
It was arguably Calum’s best idea; though Michael argued that—because Calum wasn’t really an “idea man”—it didn’t count. Objectively, Luke agreed that it was a good idea, good for team bonding, good for connecting with fans, and now that their season was over, it kept the team in the national spotlight, despite losing in five games to the Cubs for a spot in the World Series. However, Luke’s personal feelings were decidedly against Operation Splash Us.
It was a pretty simple idea, he was pretty sure the cheerleading team at his high school had done this once or twice. The team split into smaller groups and stationed themselves all over the city, on the rainiest day of the fall, and were to hold up signs that read “SPLASH US” or the team’s logo in obnoxious orange.
Both Ashton and Luke were not the biggest fans of the rain, and the gloom it brought to an already fog-filled city. Michael, on the other hand, was overjoyed to stalk about in his uni and a set of puddle jumpers that every member of the team had been gifted by Hunter Boots when Cal’s idea had caught the national news and the company had become organization sponsors. Calum was obviously excited that management had liked his idea, and he’s immediately pulled Luke onto his team, mistaking Luke’s satisfied mid-stretch smile for enthusiasm, not finally getting the crick out of his shoulder.
Michael and Ash wind up on another team together, and Luke briefly perks up when Michael whispers something about “getting me out of these wet clothes” before strutting away.
He, Calum, and Jackson and Fernandez—two relievers—set up a few blocks from Lombard Street, ensuring traffic from fans and tourists alike.
People don’t seem to care at first—then Calum bunches them together, his stupidly wide smile way too bright to comprehend. There’s not much traffic yet, so it’s fairly obvious when they see an oncoming SUV rapidly change lanes that they’re about to get their first soaking.
It’s exactly as miserable as Luke expected. Despite the fresh rain, the puddles in the city streets are filthy, and Luke is very grateful for the goggles that Ashton has bought for him. He makes sure to keep his mouth shut, and is horrified at Calum’s whooping. Sure, this splash only goes to their belts, but what about the next hour’s worth?
Fifteen minutes in, Luke is terribly grumpy, soaked from the letters down, and very much regretting not buying a Samsung phone so he can text Michael. As is, he’s thinking about begging Cal for a break to call Mikey. If they we’re so close, he wouldn’t bother asking, but this is Calum’s plan, and he wants to support his friend.
He doesn’t ask, though, just waves his sign harder—he has the team logo—and tries to shake off the depressed and disgusted feeling, like it’s just a rough inning. After a few violent splashes at the beginning, traffic had picked up, and it seems like every car is vying to get in line to soak them; this works fine for Luke, as there’s not enough time for a substantial puddle to form before the next car comes along. Most of the time it just gets on his rain boots, which is no big deal.
So, positive mindset as his goal, Luke focuses on the people in the cars—rather than the growing feeling that he’s wet himself—he smiles and waves at everybody, tries to make eye contact, especially if he sees an excited little kid in the car. In a few years, those kids could be him and Michael and Ashton and Calum.
A lady drives by in a little beater Bug with a Giants antenna topper—she’s wearing a jersey as well, but he notices the topper first—and he and Cal do their best to wave her over. She stays in the far lane, though, but wiggles her fingers at them and quickly flashes a smile.
On the flip side, a family in Dodger blue drives slowly by, and while the mom gives him a grin, the dad keeps his eyes forward. Luke gives that car an extra-big smile. They’d kept the Dodgers out of the postseason the past two years, and the rivalry is as sweet as ever, even though he’s only been a part of it for two seasons.
After making the effort to change his attitude, the next half hour flies by, and while he’s not exactly having fun, it has been a small sort of adventure. Calum’s grin still hasn’t dimmed, and Jackson and Fernandez have been kicking water at each other for the past five minutes, so he’s glad they’re having a good time.
Just as Luke starts thinking again about stepping off to call Michael, he hears, from far off, “Luuuuuuuuke!!” and honestly, he probably should have anticipated this. He can see Michael at the end of the block, not running exactly, but rapidly winding his way through the other pedestrians, hurrying over to them. Calum just groans, which turns out to be a bad move as a car rushes by, going too fast, and hits the puddle hard enough to send water into his face.
As Calum splutters, Luke has already turned and rushes to meet Michael in the middle of the sidewalk.
They lean in habitually lean in for a kiss, but think better of it; instead Luke lifts his arms for a hug, but Michael chooses to places his hands on Luke’s sides, pretending to lift him into the air a la Dirty Dancing. . They crack up, and Luke hurriedly removes his goggles, before they walk back to the other guys in Luke’s group.
“Wow, Clifford, I expected you to quit fifteen minutes earlier, I’m impressed, really feeling the love.”
“Hey now, I didn’t quit—I had my sign until a few minutes ago. Some fans wanted an autograph but they didn’t have any paper, so…” Michael shrugs.
“Did Ashton come with you?”
“No, actually, he rounded up our group, and the one Jeffries was on, took them to a vegan deli.”
Calum’s face fall at that, “Oh.”
“Hey, Cal, it was a good idea, so much fun, but you know how Ashton hates the rain.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Plus, I’m sure half the guys only went for a laugh, they probably ran right back out after they smelled the place!”
“And we stuck it out, right Cal!” chimes in Luke, “It’s almost eleven, we did it!”
“I guess,” the pout is still on Calum’s face, but he smiles when Michael throws an arm around him as well, pulls Cal in for an awkward one-armed hug with his other arm still wrapped around Luke’s waist.
“We should pack it in, I guess, yeah?”
“We’ll walk, yeah Cal, then we can do like Mikey did, get ‘em to splash us on the way.”
“Hey Matt, Gregor,” calls Michael, “I know I just got here but we’re heading back!”
“OK,” replies Fernandez, “See you guys in Arizona!”
“Bye,” chorus Michael, Calum, and Luke, before turning to go. Calum leads them through the streets, along the curb, his sign still raised high for oncoming traffic.
Luke and Michael trail a bit. Luke has a hold of Michael’s wrist and he keeps the infielder on target when he waves particularly hard and nearly falls into the street.
Once they reach the park, Michael hands everything off to Calum and, hands on his waist, backs Luke against a tree, where they’re afforded some cover from the rain and any nearby eyes. As private people, and as professional athletes, they both prefer to keep the game at the forefront and their relationship to themselves.
Michael kisses his so roughly that Luke has to choke back a scoff. “Trying to get me to rip that uniform off you now, Mikey,” he asks when he break for a beat.
Michael mumbles some sort of affirmation into Luke’s mouth as he draws them together again. He shifts his arms, wrapping them around Luke’s neck instead, which pulls them flush to each other.
Just as Luke’s about to break and insist they get home, or even better, closer, into the locker rooms—Michael’s hands drop away and he steps back quickly.
Luke’s too dazed to react fast enough, but he immediately clocks the sparkle in Michael’s grin, as well as his outstretched grip on a tree branch—the one right above Luke’s head.
“Sorry Lukey,” Michael wrenches the branch down, shakes it, which absolutely dumps water all over Luke, inundates him with it. He’s not surprised to realized that Mike had knocked off his cap as they kissed, because he’s completely flooded; water down his neck and back and face.
“You’re really gonna regret not running while you had the chance,” he growls to Michael, who’s bent over, wheezing into his hands, not even looking at Luke anymore, “I mean it punk, I’m going to wreck you.”
Michael coughs out a “promise?” as they splash through the parking lot, Luke all but dragging him to his car.