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Buster tries to ignore it the best he can, but it's always in the back of his mind when he looks in the mirror everyday before leaving the house. He can see the wrinkles near his eyes no matter how much he tries to block them out, around his lips, sometimes he thinks he sees gray hair.
There's no ignoring the fact that he's aging, and he doesn't like it. Going on thirty isn't fun, makes him feel like he's one of the seniors in the game of baseball when he still feels like a rookie at heart. He can try to cover it by working out more, staying in the best shape he can and possibly get more muscle around his bones, but he can't change the way of his skin or the cracking of his knees every time he kneels down into catching position by doing two hours on a spin bike.
Buster tries to not let it bother him, but some days it just gets him. That he's really getting up there, and that most guys retire in their late thirties. He knows he still has awhile before those numbers, but it makes his stomach twists thinking how fast the years have gone by since 2009; they could only go faster.
He loved the game of baseball so much, he couldn't imagine himself not playing anymore. He knows that day will come eventually, it does for everyone, but it made him feel uneasy just to think about it. He furrows his eyebrows at himself in the mirror when he thinks about sitting at home on the couch when he's retired, watching the Giants play and seeing some random kid behind the plate instead of himself. It's selfish, but he huffs and rolls his eyes at the thought. Just picturing it felt wrong.
“What're you doing?” the only thing he loved more than baseball asked, pushing open their bedroom door. Buster watches Madison walk up behind him in the mirror and leans into him as arms wrap around his waist. Bum kisses his temple, then rests his chin on his shoulder.
“I'm getting old.” Buster deadpans, pouting at their reflection. He's almost envious at how young Madison looks even though he's only a couple years younger; no wrinkles around his eyes or mouth. Yeah, his beard makes him look older than Buster, but when he shaves he could pass as a teen.
Madison's eyes narrow in the mirror and he looks to the real Buster, “The hell are you talking about?”
“I'm getting old,” Buster repeats, turning around to face his boyfriend. Madison drops an arm, but keeps one hand placed on Buster's hip. “I'm getting all wrinkly and gray and my joints crack when I get into position.”
Madison blinks, “Buster, you're twenty nine-”
“Don't remind me.”
“Let me finish,” Bum chuckles, reaching a hand up to rub his thumb delicately over Buster's cheek. “You're twenty nine and have won three world series, carried this team on your back countless times, you're basically the face of the San Francisco Giants.” he lists, “I think you're allowed to have a few gray hairs and wrinkles. It's stressful being you.”
“But you're the same and you don't have any of that crap.” Buster huffs, “This isn't fair, get old with me.”
“I planned on it,” Madison says fondly, kissing his nose. Buster smiles. “But I can't do anything about my body aging. That's kinda up to it.” he laughs.
Buster sighs and leans into his boyfriend again, resting his head on his chest. His arms wrap loosely around Bum's hips while Bum's wrap tightly around Buster's shoulders. Buster closes his eyes and just listens to the sound of Madison's heart, a sound he finds comforting. Madison pokes his nose into Buster's hair and rests his lips on his head, leaving a gentle kiss.
“You'll still love me when I'm all gross and old, right?” Buster says suddenly, keeping his eyes shut.
“I'm always going to love you babe,” Bum mumbles, “Nothing to worry about.”
“What if I go bald?” Buster questions.
“What if I go bald?” Madison rebounds and smiles when he feels Buster chuckle in his arms.
“You'll look different and I'm gonna make fun of you,” Buster giggles, “But I'll still love you.”
“All I need, then.” Madison says softly, pulling away to cup Buster's face. He runs his thumbs over his cheekbones and stares into the blue eyes he fell for back when they were on San Jose together. He knows he doesn't have too, but Buster reaches on his toes anyway to steal a kiss from him, smiling at the way Madison's beard tickles his skin.
“You need to stop over thinking things so much,” Madison says when they break apart. “I know turning thirty isn't going to be exciting for you, but it's not that bad. You're still going to look sexy as hell on your knees behind home plate.” he smirks, “When you take your mask off after a few innings, whip your hair and just lean back on your heels. Fuck yeah.”
Buster feels his cheeks flush but decides to play along; he puts his arms around Madison again, this time sinking his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and giving him a little squeeze.
“You like when I'm on my knees, huh?” he teases, voice low.
“Don't test me, Posey.”
Buster laughs and makes a sound of surprise when Madison picks him up from under his thighs and puts him against the wall; Buster lets his feet dangle for a second as he stares at the lust in Madison's eyes before wrapping his legs around his boyfriend's waist and his arms loosely around his neck.
“You got me.” he says quietly, but his voice has a hint of seductiveness.
“I always got you.” Bum says lowly, leaning in to rub his beard against Buster's neck and kiss the soft skin. Buster shivers. “I'm always going to have you.”
Madison nips and licks at the skin above Buster's collar bone and smiles when his catcher lets out a breathy sigh. He moves his lips to kiss him, and when he pulls away he just takes a second to admire the sight in front of him.
He loved the look Buster gave him when he wanted more; the hooded eyelids, flushed cheeks, lips parted with his tongue licking over the back of his teeth to tease him, the way his usual sparkling eyes turned dark, any trace of San Francisco's golden boy locked away for now. This look was for Madison and Madison only.
It was timeless.