thursdays_angel | (no subject)

(no subject)

The ball field is complete.

Crisp white lines of lime. Neatly trimmed grass. A sturdy metal backstop behind home plate. Bleachers that still smell of new wood, and two long benches for the teams.

Deserted this evening.

For the moment.

And in the next, two figures are standing on the pitcher’s mound. A dark haired man in a rumpled trench coat. And a young woman with red hair.

“We are here,” Castiel says, removing his hand from Meg’s forehead. “You can open your eyes now.”

Castiel, and many others, have worked hard on this field. And found companionship in doing so. It is a source of pride in more ways than one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Whatever the reason, it's a little daunting to have an Angel of the Lord ask you to close your eyes because he wants to show you something.

(Also, the whooshing off to some place else thing? Not something it's exactly something you get used to.)

Meg opens her eyes and looks around.

Her eyes get very, very wide.

Castiel is watching her closely.

Expectantly.

One might almost say anxiously.

"This will do? For the game?"

He did research and planned carefully. He wanted the teams to have an appropriate place to play.

"It's . . . it's amazing."

She'd known, from conversations with more than one person, that he had planned rather more than mowing the grass and setting out bases.

But this is . . .

"It looks perfect."

A human might be bouncing from excitement.

For Castiel, this manifests as a slightly wider smile than what he usually displays.

"I studied. Plans and pictures. And other parks."

Visiting unseen. It had almost been strange, after being at Milliways. Not being seen.

"People helped."

"I can tell," she says.

Meg smiles.

"Do you want to show me around?"

Castiel nods, extending a hand, inviting Meg to step down off the pitcher's mound ahead of him.

"Shall we start at home plate?"

"It seems a logical place to start," Meg agrees.

She'll be spending most of the game there, after all.

(There's a slight pause while she has to remind herself that it is all right to walk on the rather perfectly manicured grass.)

"Teja made the backstop," Castiel says as they walk to home. "He does fine work."

"Sameth and...and others helped me with the bleachers."

"It's all really . . . " Meg trails off, because the word her mind wants to supply there is real and that . . . doesn't seem like it quite makes sense. "Impressive," she decides instead.

"They both mentioned that they were going to help."

She doesn't ask about the "and others."

Mentioning Anna by name might involve having to explain who Anna is. And that is nothing that Castiel wishes to burden Meg with.

"I enjoyed the building," Castiel admits.

"I do not often get to do work like this. Very rarely, in fact. And not for a long time."

"I'm glad that you're getting to do something you enjoy," she says.

"I still can't quite get over how much . . . it's very complete."

Castiel's smile turns ever so slightly teasing.

"You think I may have gone overboard?"

Like a laughing man's hat into the Atlantic Ocean.

"No," says Meg. "I think you may have gone just board enough."

Hey, with the amount of work they've both put in . . . if they're going to do this, they should do it right.

"Mike the Barman said that it could remain after the game. This way, others can use it if they wish."

For something permanent, it is good to do a good job.

"That's good. I can't imagine that they won't."

It's just . . . cool.

Castiel stops at home plate, turning to look out over the diamond.

"Your place," he remarks.

Stepping aside so she can see if she likes the view.

And oh, this is in no way intimidating.

Not at all.

(Except for all the ways it totally is.)

"Wow."

The field looks really, really big from here.

Castiel leans over slightly.

"You will be a good umpire."

"I hope so," Meg says, under her breath.

"I mean," she amends, "I'll certainly try."

"I can show you the lines I made for the outfield."

The other option had been building a wall.

"If you'd like to walk around the diamond."

"All right," Meg says.

"I hope the line idea works," she adds.

It was probably much easier to literally level this playing field than it will be to do so figuratively.

"I probably could build a wall in time for the game," Castiel offers.

"But I believe the lines will work."

"Well, a wall would make it much harder for the outfield to be longer for the people who have beyond human strength. So it's better than a wall, for our purposes.

"At least I think it will be."

Meg? Kind of making all this up as she goes along.

A philosophy that Castiel may, in time, come to appreciate.

"Lines are easy enough to draw."

Castiel stops at second base--it's a good mid-point from which to see the whole field.

"It will be good."

It's almost heady. Creating something.

It's really not Meg's usual approach. But there's no template to follow for How To Organize An End Of The Universe Sporting Event. Meg is making it up.

And then writing it all down.

"Yes, it will," she says. "It's already good."

Because it's not just about the actual game. Not really.

Castiel smiles slightly. Then reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a baseball.

"I know you claim that you cannot throw."

He holds the ball up.

"I have found practice to be beneficial."

Meg blinks.

"What? Now?"

"Why not?"

Humans have a saying. No time like the present.

"You can demonstrate how to throw like a girl."

"That, at least, I can probably manage," she says.

Oh, here comes the part where she embarasses herself.

"All right."

Castiel walks backwards, tossing the ball to Meg as he goes.

"I have no doubt that you can."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only