Work Text:
“Jason, buddy, you’re still not throwing quite right,” Whizzer said as he jogged over to Jason. He took his mitt off and tucked it under his arm. “See, what you’re doing there is called ‘throwing sidearm,’ and if you keep throwing that way, you could seriously mess up your arm. Some people who throw sidearm their whole lives have needed surgery to fix the damage it does.”
Jason looked confused, shaking his head as he also took off his mitt. “But all the other guys throw this way too, Whizzer.”
“I know, and your coach should really teach all of you not to. But since he’s too busy trying to flirt with all the moms, it looks like good ol’ Whizzer is going to save the day once again.”
“You don’t have to be so dramatic all the time, you know.”
“You don’t have to sound like Marvin all the time, you know,” Whizzer retorted, not bothering to hide a small smirk.
“That’s fair. Rude but fair.”
“All right, so this is going to feel really weird and wrong after throwing sidearm for so long, but you’ll thank me later when you’re the best thrower on the team. I’m going to hold your elbow to the side here,” he moved Jason’s throwing arm as he spoke, “and I want you to just flick your wrist forward a couple times like you’re throwing a ball. Don’t move the rest of your arm at all. Just flick your wrist.”
Jason went along with it for a few seconds before he sighed loudly, tugging his arm out of Whizzer’s loose grip. “No offense or whatever, but this feels stupid.” He dropped his glove to the ground. If anyone asked him about it later, he would deny his obvious pout. “Why does it even matter how I throw? I don’t want to play baseball for the rest of my life. I’m not that good, so why should I bother now?”
Whizzer was silent for a while, studying Jason. “Sit with me a second,” he finally said, sitting on the ground and patting the spot next to him. “Do you like baseball, Jason?”
Picking at the laces on his baseball mitt, Jason unconvincingly replied, “Well, yeah. I guess.”
“Jason.”
He sighed again, louder this time. “I like baseball, but I don’t like playing. I like when we go to games and watch baseball together and play catch, but really? That’s it.”
“You don’t keep playing just for me, do you?” When he didn’t get any answer, Whizzer put his hand on Jason’s shoulder, prompting the kid to look at him.
Jason let out a frustrated noise and pulled his knees to his chest. “You just like baseball so much, Whizzer! Sneaking around and playing catch was the only way we could hang out after you and Dad had that fight. Then you guys got back together because you went to my baseball game, so I just figured, you know…”
“Jason, I never want you to do anything you don’t want to. If you don’t want to play ball anymore, that’s fine with me. We can just play catch, go to games, and watch it on T.V.”
Tension released from Jason’s shoulders, and he shot a small, grateful smile up at Whizzer. “Thanks Whizzer.”
“But,” Whizzer continued, his expression now jokingly stern, “you still need to throw right if we’re going to play catch together, okay? I don’t want you screwing up that arm of yours.”
Jason rolled his eyes but agreed anyway. “Do you think Dad will care?” he asked after a few moments of silence.
“If you quit baseball?” Whizzer shook his head, pressing his shoulder against Jason’s. He leaned in and pretended he was telling a secret, “Marvin hates the game anyway. He and the others might want you to finish out the season, but you only have a month left anyway.”
“I guess that won’t be too bad.” Jason smiled as he pushed Whizzer off his shoulder.
“You really need to worry about what Cordelia and Charlotte will have to say.”
“You’re right; they might disown me.”
Whizzer laughed, his nose crinkling up. “Now look who’s being dramatic.”
“I learn it all from you,” Jason said, laughing along.
“I guess I can’t argue with that one, huh? Come on, kiddo. Let’s go inside. You did really well today, and we can work on your throwing some other time.” The two stood up, Jason messing with his glove again while Whizzer meticulously brushed the dirt from his pants.
“It’s almost time for you to take your medicine anyway, right?”
Whizzer looked down at his watch, surprised. Sure enough, his alarm would go off in just a few minutes. He went ahead and turned off the alarm before it could sound and smiled warmly at Jason. He said quietly, “I just don’t know what I’d do without you keeping an eye on me, buddy.”
Jason looked uncomfortable for a moment, keeping his eyes on his baseball mitt as he muttered, “Don’t dwell on it,” then, louder, “It’s too hot out here. I’m going to sit directly I front of an a/c vent when we get inside.”
“I’ll race you.”
“You’re on, old man!”
Despite his five mile long legs, Whizzer lost the race. If anyone asked Whizzer, he would say he let Jason win. If anyone asked Jason, he would say it was pure skill on his part. Whizzer grabbed the back of Jason’s shirt, trying to pull him backwards before he passed the threshold into the kitchen. They stumbled in together, Jason just barely in the lead, both laughing loudly.
Marvin looked over at his boys, a fond smile on his face. “What is that, Whizzer, the fourth time Jason’s beat you in a race?” he teased, beckoning Whizzer over.
“Fifth actually,” Jason correctly smugly as he sat on the kitchen table. Whizzer gave him an unamused look as he sauntered over to Marvin.
“Nobody likes a bragger, Jason,” he said over his shoulder.
“You like my dad well enough… Most days.” It was Marvin’s turn to look unamused now. Jason cut him off before he could say anything. “Yeah, yeah, you only really brag about getting Whizzer back, I know. You don’t have to be gross and cheesy all the time. Anyway, I don’t want to play baseball anymore, so I’m going to go to my room now. Let me know when dinner is ready!” Jason left the kitchen faster than he’s ever moved before.
Marvin turned to Whizzer now, looking for some kind of explanation. Whizzer just shrugged and pushed Marvin’s medicine into one hand and a glass of water into the other. He picked up his own glass, gently clinked it with Marvin’s, and swallowed down his own pills. Marvin followed suit then put his and Whizzer’s cups in the sink. Someone would wash them later... probably.
“So what was that about Jason not wanting to play baseball?”
Whizzer shrugged again and pulled Marvin into the living room to sit on the couch. “He just doesn’t want to play. He told me when we were outside.”
Marvin nodded slowly, relaxing against Whizzer’s side. “What did you say to him?”
“That he could have been the next Babe Ruth if he just kept at it,” Whizzer answered, pretending to examine his fingernails. He looked up and grinned when he heard Marvin’s disbelieving snort. “I said he should probably finish out the season, but that I’d be fine if he quit after that. If he doesn’t like to play, then he shouldn’t have to. We’ll still do other baseball-related things, but I don’t think he needs to play.”
“Are you sure you’ve never done this whole ‘parenting’ thing before?” Marvin asked, half-teasing.
Whizzer rolled his eyes. “Marv, please. I’m hardly a parental figure to the kid.”
“Whiz, please,” Marvin echoed. “You’re more of a dad than you realize.”
“That’s disgusting, and I’m going to politely opt out of that lifestyle forever. Thank you oh so very much.”
Marvin laughed loudly, holding Whizzer’s hand in his own and squeezing. “All jokes aside—”
“I’m not joking,” Whizzer interrupted, trying to hide a smile.
“All jokes aside,” Marvin said again, more insistent this time, “you’re like the laidback, understanding kind of father. Mendel tries to be that way, but it’s obvious he’s trying too hard. You just are.”
Whizzer was quiet for a few moments, staring at his hand clasped in Marvin’s. “If I had to be dad,” he started slowly, eyes still not leaving their hands, “I would want to be the kind I always wished I had. I would want my kid to feel comfortable telling me whatever they want, and for them to do and be whatever they want. I wouldn’t want to be this… controlling force, you know? I don’t know if I’m making a lot of sense; I just never thought I would have a chance like this. You know I’m not trying to steal Jason from you or adopt him as my own son or whatever, right?”
“Hey, I wouldn’t complain about passing off my Dad Duties onto you.”
“Are you... asking me to adopt your kid?”
Marvin shrugged and bumped his shoulder with Whizzer’s. “If you want to be another stepdad for him, and if he wants that, then… Well, that option is always on the table.”
“I think I am going to seriously opt out of that lifestyle for now,” Whizzer said, putting his head on Marvin’s shoulder. “I need to practice my dad jokes before I make any big decisions like that.”
Marvin let go of Whizzer’s hand, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. He pressed a small kiss into his boyfriend’s hair.
“Of course. And if you don’t think your jokes are ever ‘dad’ enough, that’s fine too. It would be hard to beat some of mine and Mendel’s jokes anyway. Besides, we’re happy just to have you around. You’re good for us.”
Whizzer’s nose scrunched you in mock disgust, but he couldn’t hide his fond smile. “Jeez, Marv, all this cheese is going to make me lactose intolerant someday.”
“As if you aren’t just as cheesy as me.”
“No, I’m not. I’m uncaring, cold, and I’ve never said anything romantic in my entire life. Now, come be domestic as shit, and help me make dinner.”
“That’s bordering on romantic, but I’ll let it slide this time around.”
“You’re so chivalrous,” Whizzer deadpanned. He got off the couch and pulled Marvin to the kitchen with him. “By the way, I’m pretty sure I used up all of my allotted ‘serious talk’ for the next three months just in this one afternoon. From here on out, I’m only going to be sarcastic.”
“Can you be serious for just one more sentence?” Whizzer’s only reply was a raised eyebrow. Marvin laughed softly and pulled Whizzer into a loose embrace. “I love you.”
Whizzer rolled his eyes, smiling slowly. “I guess I can reply seriously to that. I love you too. Now get off me. Our son is starving and needs fed.”