Julien loved all his teammates, and he wanted to make that very clear.

            But if he had to hear one more fucking country hick song out of Bobby Deville's Bluetooth speaker, he was going to kill himself. That was how he ended up taking a walk out of the Red Sox dressing room half-dressed. It really was that serious. Too serious to have a shirt on, or be out of his pants from practice. But not serious enough to take his walk in his cleats. Sweaty knee-high socks were his shoe of choice. He was afraid to admit he hadn't taken a shower yet.

            It wasn't really his fault that the speaker was waterproof. It was his fault that he stunk like sweat, grass, and dirt. The quick deodorant swipe he'd had before practice hadn't done much past the first hour. And who the hell wore cologne just to take ground balls and do cardio? Not Julien Cortez.

            (The sniff test he took of his armpit was biological warfare against himself.)

            The only good thing about taking a walk so he didn't slaughter his team's starting catcher for playing Honky Tonk Badonkadonk for the eighty-seventh time was that Julien could hear his sister from down the hall. In the nicest way possible, she was the loudest person he knew; but in all fairness, he was running late for their meet-up so she was likely getting impatient with him.

            Julien could hear the distinct sound of Bobby's thick Texan accent, so at least Juneau had good company. Country hick company, but if that was the only thing Julien could conceivably complain about when it came to Bobby Deville, he would take it. Minor details, and all.

            "—We said we would limit how many times you played this around others," his loving sister Juneau told Bobby. "Namely, the loser whom I call—"

            It was almost too easy to run up behind his sister and put her in a headlock, armpit straight to the nose.

            Juneau almost dropped the bottle of Sunny D Julien was sure that Bobby had given her. The gag she let out was earned. "Oh, you fuckin' twat—"

            "Say tío." Julien held her tighter than he probably should have, given that he also couldn't stand the smell of it.

            "Bobby," Juneau grunted out. "How would a Texan tell someone to get ready for a knee to their junk?"

            "Best be ready for a Texas-sized ten-four?" Bobby offered. In his stupid dumb southern accent that had haunted Julien for nearly five years in the bigs.

            "I have a cup on—" Julien growled.

            "Do ya know how many times I've been sacked wearin' a cup, Corty?"

            In fact, Julien had witnessed several of them. Bobby, and every other catcher in the league, a cup didn't do much when they spent most of their time squatting. Any bad bounce or missed block had the option of doing some damage to their junk. Job hazard. The last one Bobby had faced was a couple years prior, he'd immediately gotten a thousand times better at blocking.

            "I think we break a new record," Juneau said.

            "Don't—" Julien really needed to work on how whiny his voice came out sometimes.

            Juneau kneed him before he could react with anything other than a groan. "For Texas and the Whataburger Patty Melt."

            Julien groaned and dropped to a knee.

            Bobby winced for him. "Amen. You're never gonna get a girlfriend skipping showers, Corty."

            That might've hurt more than the sack, but he wasn't going to tell Bobby Deville that. "Or have any kids if she keeps that up—"

            "Can't have any mini-Juliens running around," Juneau said. "They might conspire with the Thumb Thumbs to take over the world."

            Julien slowly pushed himself up. Didn't take his hand off of his aching balls. "This is my villain origin story."

            "Sure it is," Bobby said.

            "If we don't get some food soon, I'll show you a real villain origin story," Juneau said.

            "You're buying," Julien said.

            Juneau rolled her eyes. "I literally always do."

            "Corty, we make so much money—" Bobby started.

            "She's older," Julien said. The new couch was worth it. Never one to shy away from the little brother card when it paid off in his favour. "She's paying."

            "Deville," Juneau said, "just know that if you ever give Lottie a younger sibling, you're forcing her into a lifetime of buying dinner for them, even if they make way more money than she does."

            Bobby pointed her. "Noted, Macguff."

            Charlotte, Bobby's daughter, was a thirteen year old menace that the entire team loved like she was their own. However young Bobby was when he and his wife had her didn't matter, they'd done something right with her. She called every new player to the team was uncle and their wives and girlfriends were auntie.

            "Chuck's nice and bet she would want to," Julien said. No other teenage girl was willing to accept that as a nickname, Charlotte was cool. Came from being an eight year old when Julien was twenty. Best friends.

            "Speaking of, before I see more of this—" Bobby waved his hand a little at them. "—I was looking for her. So, see y'all later. Don't kill each other."

            "Y'all come back now, ya hear?" Juneau said.

            Bobby ran his fingers along the edge of his Stetson and nodded in their direction. "Macguff, Corty." He walked away from them and the turned corner.

            Julien crossed his arms. "I think you owe me a steak."

            "And you owe us all a proper shower," Juneau said. "Now, let's go."

*

"When was the last time you went grocery shopping?" Juneau asked. "This fridge looks like it belongs to someone who plays Call of Duty all day and hasn't seen actual sunlight in approximately three years."

            Julien leaned over the railing from his bedroom. "I went a couple weeks ago. There's ramen in the cupboard."

            "You didn't even get the good one," Juneau said. "What is this Top Ramen bullshit—"

            "You're so picky." Julien pulled his shirt on. Hated that his hair wetted the back of his shirt but couldn't do much about it. It was a choice between drying his hair and dinner and he knew which one both of them wanted more. He had already taken the time to condition, after all.

            "If I'm buying us steak," Juneau said, she closed the cabinet doors. She stared up at him and started her way toward him. "You should at least give me a Nongshim Shin Black appetizer."

            "I had some but R—" Well. There it was. That scary little part of his life that meant too much to him. His whole ass boyfriend and his tendency to eat everything in Julien's apartment before driving Julien's car to the nearest drive thru and bringing more food back.

            The worst thing was that Juneau would be okay with it. He'd already told her that he was gay. And she'd been out as bisexual for as far back as Julien could remember.

            But he didn't want to see her face when he told her that he'd been hiding it for seven years. That the idea of telling her was more nerve-wracking than telling the world. Because what if he fucked it up? Or what if it was perfect and he had to mourn the seven years he spent not celebrating it with anyone other than Rory?

            "—I got really hungry," Julien substituted. There was always an ache in his chest that never went away. It grew at times; and it hurt worse every single time that he had to revisit it. "And ate the whole pack."

            Juneau had already made her way up the stairs. Eye level with him. Part of him wanted to blurt it out and hope she didn't push him down the stairs for lying to her for so long. He couldn't do that to her—he couldn't do that to himself.

            "Greedy." Juneau crossed her arms and frowned. "And when did you get that new nightstand?"

            Julien's eyes widened. Subtle. "What new nightstand?"

            Juneau pointed at it like he was stupid. "That one. You used to only have the one."

            "No I didn't."

            "Yes, you did."

            "Oh, that nightstand. I heard it..." Julien had spent his entire relationship making up lies to every single person he cared about. Excuses started to run thin when he'd given multiple every single day since he was in the minor leagues. "Helps you. Mentally. There was a word, or, like a couple words or whatever for it. Something important. Helps..." He waved his hands a little. "Set the scene."

            "It helps... set the scene?" Juneau stared at him like she was trying to test if she had telekinesis. There were times growing up when it felt like she did have superpowers. "Huh. Right."

            "Yeah, like." Julien made a rectangle with his fingers and focused on the bed, and the two nightstands. "Look at that. Nice and... symmetry-ized."

            "Symmetrical," Juneau corrected.

            Julien threw his hands up. "You know I had issues in English class, Juni. God."

            "Pendejo," Juneau said. She raised a plucked eyebrow at him.

            "Coño," Julien said. "God, can we have some food? I'm so hungry. You just came in here and critiqued me and didn't even feed me."

            Juneau stared at him incredulously. "How can I feed you when you have nothing to eat in here—"

            "Maybe you should treat me to a grocery run," Julien said. "I can't believe you're starving your brother."

            "Change of plans," Juneau said. "I think I'll take myself out tonight for a steak dinner. Could use the alone time."

            "This is abuse," Julien said. "I'll call Mamá and Papá."

            "I'll send them a picture of your fridge. They'll be so disappointed in you."

            "They'll be so proud that I never have any leftovers."

            "Hard to have leftovers of nothing."

            "Means I know my exact portion size."

            "Nothing of nothing is still... nothing." Juneau saw the garbage bin. Julien stood in the way of it but the damage had been done—he and Rory had spent too long playing paper toss with wrappers in it, he'd never cleaned it out. "Better yet, I'll show them how much junk food you're eating. They'll have plenty to say about that."

            "You wouldn't dare."

            "Oh, you don't think so?"

            Julien wanted to be mad but he would've done the same thing. "I'll pay for dinner if you don't. Do you want me dead?"

            "Hmm..." Juneau considered the offer but always found a way to bargain. "I'll agree to the terms only if you also pay to upgrade my flight back home to premium."

            "You wouldn't just do it out of the kindness of your heart—"

            "Obviously not." Juneau crossed her arms at him.

            "Fine." Julien scowled. "Deal."

            "You're the best."

            Julien debated himself before asking the question, but he considered it the smallest step in the right direction. "Do you like the new nightstand, though?"

            "It's a little tall for you," Juneau said. "But it's nice."

            "They're the same size," Julien said.

            "We just spent two months looking at nothing but new furniture for the pod," Juneau said. (He was still waiting for his invite but maybe bringing her brother on for an episode was too lame for his big sister.) (She did hit it big and then immediately start going to less games. He couldn't blame her.) "Yours is clearly twenty-four inches and the new one is thirty."

            "It is not—" Julien looked at it. God damn it. When was Juneau ever not right? "Well, shit. Not symmetrical, huh?"

            "Lucky for you," Juneau said, "asymmetry is all the rage in interior design."

            "Thank god," Julien said. "Now that means Architectural Digest can come."

            "You're going to singlehandedly revive MTV Cribs."

            Julien put his hands over his heart. "A dream come true."

*

Julien hated driving because who enjoyed it ever, really? So taking the subway and walking was always his choice. Juneau had rolled her eyes at him for wearing a Red Sox hat out in public, but he didn't own any other ones—well, he owned one other one. Rory had sent it to him as a Christmas gift and Julien near vomited on it. Even if his parents had accepted that he was gay, they weren't going to accept their son wearing a Yankees hat.

            "So," Julien said. The restaurant was only a couple blocks from their last subway stop. He hadn't really wanted to do it in public, or when his sister was getting hangry, but there was never going to be a good time. At least he hadn't yelled it over the sound of the train. "Do I have to request information from you or are you going to admit the thing you don't want to?"

            He was hoping that maybe the streets of Boston would make Juneau so calm that the question would be met with a truthful answer. Even if he and his sister tended to not talk about their relationships, although those were for different reasons.

            "I'd ask what you're talking about, but I don't think I care," Juneau said.

            "You and Sergeant—"

            Juneau's eyes flashed with the quickest spot of recognition but she wiped it off her face just as fast. She adjusted the Yankees hat that she'd bought with her own money for whatever fucking reason that was. "Never met a Sergeant before. Where's he from?"

            "You know," Julien said. "Dollar general guy."

            "If you're referring to Cappie," Juneau said, and Julien gagged at the name. "I don't know why you'd bring him up."

            Cappie in question was the bane of Julien's existence. His sister's five year on-and-off again who somehow decided to accept the name of Captain and not legally change it despite being a fully grown adult. Julien had met boyfriends and girlfriends of the past but none of them had put a bitter taste in his mouth the way that Cappie Howard did. And to have witnessed him reappear on her social media posts through likes and comments was not what he wanted with his weekend with Rory.

            (At least Rory had talked him down from driving over there and confronting her while he was still mad about it.) (Someday, she would find out he'd done so and maybe thank him for it.) (The other part of Julien that questioned why Rory was so calm about it despite also having met the infamous man was quickly won over by oral because Julien was nothing if not a little bit of a slut first, private investigator second.)

            "So you're aware he's someone who buys five-in-one from the dollar store?"

            "I don't even know what's in a five-in-one, but you should probably use it if you keep smelling like how you did earlier," Juneau said.

            "Sorry I'm employed." Cappie might have been but Julien didn't care enough to check.

            "Employed people don't shower unless their sister forces them to? News to me."

            "Also means I don't have time to like all your Instagrams seconds after you've posted them. Unlike Major Asshole. Who, you know, I was told had been blocked, but I'd recognize that stupid username anywhere."

            "I never noticed him liking anything," Juneau said, "but you would have to be stalking both of us to have noticed that, so who's the real problem here?"

            "Ignoring the blocked allegations, I see."

            Juneau looked like she was contemplating what would serve her better: hurling herself in front of the taxis driving by or pushing Julien in front of one. "I don't recall every saying I blocked him. That would be dramatic."

            "I have the texts," Julien said. He might have been a chronic email deleter, but he saved texts like they were the autographs of his idols growing up. "And who would ever miss cappieunderpants commenting on all your shit?"

            "There are more important matters to tend to than who's commenting on my post." It wasn't lost on Julien that Juneau had pumped the gas on her bisexual speed walk toward the restaurant. He kept up with her, much to her annoyance.

            "Not if I have to deal with him at another family dinner."

            "He just came back from Philly, so no worries there."

            Bingo, bango, bongo, barf. The latter was only for the reminder that that idiot had come from the same city he grew up in. Julien loved Philadelphia for everything except for allowing Captain to be birthed there. It should've been Purgatory.

            "Oh, and how do you know that?"

            Juneau made a face. "Allegedly. That's what I've heard."

            "Who would you have heard that from?" It had been five years of Julien voicing his distaste for Cappie Howard and he wasn't planning on stopping until he never had to see him again. "He has no friends. Because he's a loser."

            "I don't know," Juneau said. "People say things, and I hear them. Can't control what other people say around me."

            Julien rolled his eyes. "You probably just saw the post that a domestic terrorist had flown from Philly to Boston, actually."

            "You probably saw it first," Juneau said. At least she hadn't denied the terrorism. "Stop cyberstalking him."

            Maybe Julien should've let it simmer a little longer, but he had never been a good cook. "I will when you stop fucking him—"

            "Ew, don't talk to me like that—"

            "Like what?"

            "Um. Oh. Hi."

            It was a rare sight for Juneau Cortez to be at a lost for words, but Mykie Taylor always tended to do it to her. Julien would have been lying once again if he said he didn't enjoy watching his sister go speechless. It was one f of the reasons he wanted her at more of his games, Mykie was always wandering around making content for the Red Sox social media accounts; the least his sister could've done was be in a video or two. That, and not wear her Yankees hat. But he'd take the former.

            "Michael," Julien said. "Fancy seeing you here."

            "Hey, Juliet," Mykie said. "Couldn't hit the broad side of a barn today, huh."

            So, maybe his short temper with the country music had been because Julien had a shitty practice. But that didn't mean he ever wanted to hear the song as many times as he had. Both could exist at the same time, he was pretty sure.

            "That's why they mostly trust me to catch it," Julien said. "Not throw it."

            "Keep it up and Cruella Queen will send back her signed jersey," Mykie said.

            "Low blow, Michael." Julien wouldn't forgive any of them for that incident. Least of all Mykie for not sending a pre-stamped envelope with a photo for her to sign and send like Julien had requested. "Especially when you still haven't reached out and gotten me one of her autographs in return."

            "We'll see what your stats look like after the next game," Mykie said like she did every time he'd brought it up. "And then I'll consider."

            "It would be my honour to impress her."

            Mykie raised an eyebrow in Juneau's direction and Julien fought the urge to close his sister's mouth for her. "Your sister doesn't look that impressed by you today."

            Juneau snapped herself out of it. "He... Um... Tried to give me the bad ramen."

            "Devastating," Mykie said.

            "That's why she's taking me out for dinner," Julien said.

            "I took the picture," Juneau said. Julien didn't even want to know how he hadn't noticed, but he might've been too busy trying to stop worrying about his uneven nightstands. "Don't try to take anything back."

            "Blackmail?" Julien gawked. "God, you're horrible."

            "The only appropriate way to deal with men," Mykie said.

            "Yes," Juneau said. "Exactly."

            "I have never had to deal with men this way." Well, one man. One real man, the only one he'd ever dated. Wait. He'd said that one out loud. "Teammates. Never had to deal with teammates this way."

            "Maybe if you did," Mykie said, "you would've already gotten Deville to stop playing that fuckin' honkytonk song."

            Julien sighed. At least Mykie didn't have the song follow her into the showers like he did. "I actually threatened suicide and it did nothing but make him increase the volume."

            "Amateur work."

            "It's a straight fuckin' banger," muttered the unfortunately country-loving Juneau under her breath.

            "Oh, what was that, dear sister?"

            "Nothing." Juneau grabbed his arm. "We should go inside before our... food gets cold."

            "Care to join us, Michae—"

            "She's probably busy." Juneau yanked him toward the door to shut him up. "Don't want to bother her."

            "I have somewhere I need to be," Mykie said. "Have fun, Cortezes."

            "See you tomorrow," Julien said.

            "Hope you play better." The look Mykie gave him assured him he'd be doing some stupid TikTok trend for her before the game as payment for making her watch his bad practice.

            As she walked away, his sister let her watchful eye linger. "God, she's so fuckin' pretty."

            Julien couldn't help himself. "Can we call her back so you can date her instead—"

            "Shut up and get me my steak right now."