Title: Lucky Strike
Author: Pace is the trick
Fandom: Twilight AU
Character/Pairing: Carlisle Cullen (Edward's off being human somewhere)
Word count: 400
Prompt # 71
AN: While it may be a leap, this imagine reminded me of the Lucky Strike cigarettes so popular in my youth. From there, it was actually quite logical for me to take that title and put Carlisle in his favorite setting. :)
“Out!” The ball hurtles back to the pitcher with tremendous speed but the man catches it effortlessly.
The next man takes his position. Carlisle holds his breath, hoping against hope that this one would not strike out.
“OUT!” More groans from outside the cage.
“You play?” the man grunts at him.
“Me?” He’s completely caught off guard. “Oh, I could nev - , that is to say, I am not - , I mean –
“Yes!” He isn’t quite sure if that was really what he meant to say, but he realizes that he very much wants to try. Why else would he be suited up, loitering like this?
“Get out there then,” the man snarls.
Carlisle peruses the bats, but he already knows which one he wants. Made from Sugar Maple, slightly heavier but the grain is straight and requires no taping. He’d used it before. He approaches the batter’s box diffidently and sees the catcher and pitcher exchange a snide look.
He opts for the left-hand, one he has never actually used. He is always fair, in game as well as profession. He swings a few times to get the feel for the weight of the wood, but he needn’t have bothered. This bat was made for him.
He positions himself and waits, averting his gaze slightly so as not to meet the pitcher’s eyes. From the corner of his eye, he watches the ball’s progression, measuring the distance, following its trajectory, easing his body into motion.
Carefully gently --
3, 2, 1
The crack of impact makes him wince. He’d hit too hard despite his precautions. He chalks it up to rookie nerves. This is, after all, the first time he has played with others. Still, he smiles as he watches the ball sail out of the park, over the road and into the pond. He hears it sink to the very bottom. No chance of recovering that one.
He finds his human pace and leisurely jogs around the diamond. First base, second, third –
The look of astonishment on the pitcher’s face.
On all of their faces.
He can’t help it. He has lived for this moment.
No – it’s foolish. The risk
But he’s exhilarated and he throws caution to the wind. He speeds up ever so slightly –
And pouncing as much as sliding, feels the dirt rake his side as he slides to a home run.