Chapter Text
Rey Jackson knows absolutely nothing about baseball.
Well, almost nothing.
Finn and Poe had attempted to teach her the rules of the game once, but she quickly lost interest when they started arguing about pitching with the wind-up versus the stretch. But somehow between that, and an explanation of the infield fly rule, they’d convinced her to tag along with them to an upcoming game.
Which is how she finds herself following a swarm of people down a crowded city block on her way to watch the Seattle Mariners play the Texas Rangers on a sweltering afternoon in July.
“Explain to me, again, why we’re showing up so early?” she asks as they pass by yet another pop-up tent selling water bottles and bags of peanuts.
“Pregame!” Finn beams. “A bunch of my co-workers are meeting up for happy hour before it starts.”
Rey perks up at the words happy hour.
“Ah, now she’s interested,” Poe teases.
Rolling her eyes, she shoots him an exasperated look. “You already had me at garlic fries, Dameron.”
And pizza, and beer, and soft pretzels with that unnaturally orange cheese sauce…
“Hold up!” Finn stops them, motioning to a merchandise shop along the route. “Rey needs a hat.”
“I don’t need a hat,” she protests.
“You totally need a hat,” Poe agrees. “Go get her one.”
She waits with Poe outside the store while Finn dashes inside, emerging a few moments later clutching a plastic bag in one hand. With a grand flourish, he pulls out a navy blue cap with the team's logo embroidered on the front and plops it onto her head.
“Now you’re all set,” he grins.
Poe reaches over and helps her adjust the strap in the back around her messy bun. “Looking good, sunshine,” he compliments with a pat on the bill.
“And don’t even think about saying it was totally unnecessary,” Finn stops her before she can tell him that it was totally unnecessary. “Just say thank you, Finn.”
“Thank you, Finn,” she mimics with a wide smile.
There’s already a decent-sized group of people hanging around when they arrive at The ‘Pen (the best spot in the stadium to chill before the game according to Poe). Rey watches as Finn’s eyes light up in recognition and he makes a beeline towards a couple standing several yards away, motioning for them to follow.
He introduces her to his coworkers, Snap and Kaydel before they find a spot at a standing table near the railing by the field.
“I’ll get the first round of drinks,” Poe offers. “Your usual beer, babe?” He asks Finn who nods in confirmation. “How about you, Rey? Beer? Wine? Something stronger?”
“Surprise me,” she replies.
He grins and gives her a double thumbs up. “You got it!”
When he returns, the drink he sets in front of her is pink —the same vibrant shade of magenta featured all over the stadium, to be exact.
“It’s supposed to be like a Moscow Mule,” Poe explains as he hands Finn an amber beer with a frothy top and places his own darker ale on the table.
She takes a small sip, swallowing the sweetened beverage with a satisfied nod. “Not bad. Thanks.”
Poe lifts his beer in a mock toast and smiles. “Anytime, sunshine.”
She takes another drink and looks out over the outfield —an expansive sea of vibrant green grass that’s been carefully mowed into alternating dark and light stripes leading towards the infield and home plate. There are already a few players on the field casually throwing balls back and forth as fans slowly fill the stadium seats around them. She watches intently, letting Poe and Finn’s voices fade into the background as they eagerly debate the stats of their favorite players and make predictions for the outcome of that afternoon’s game.
“Oh ho! No way!” Poe crows suddenly, setting his cup down and rushing over to the area that overlooks the bullpen.
She shoots Finn a puzzled look. “What’s he doing?”
“I’m not sure,” he sighs. “But I probably shouldn’t leave him unattended for long.”
“Good point,” she agrees and follows behind him.
She’s known Finn since college, when she was a freshman and he was a senior. They became friends while studying at a tiny cafe near campus owned by a feisty old lady named Maz. The following year after Finn graduated, he met Poe and the two started dating shortly after.
Since then, they’ve become the closest thing she has to family: loving, supportive, and sometimes impossibly infuriating, family. Where Finn is like the overprotective older brother, Poe is the overeager one. He means well, but occasionally his shenanigans go a bit too far, especially when it comes to anything that begins with him enthusiastically yelling “no way!”
They weave their way past the standing tables and crowds of people to join Poe who is grinning with far too much excitement into the bullpen below him.
“That’s my boss's son,” he says gleefully, pointing to the player on the mound. “Hey! Solo!”
Finn jumps to cover Poe’s mouth while Rey groans.
“You can’t just yell at the players, babe,” Finn chides gently. “And we all know that’s Leia’s son, it’s not a secret.”
Leia Organa, Poe’s boss, is the current Mayor of Seattle. Rey’s met her a couple of times through Poe, but she’s never paid much enough attention to the fact that she has a professional baseball player for a son. Or what he looked like.
She’s definitely looking now, though.
He’s tall. Not impossibly tall, but a good head taller than Poe or Finn, with broad shoulders, strong thighs, and long arms. Her eyes follow his movements as pulls back his right shoulder and lobs the ball towards the catcher at the end of the run. The speed and precision at which he throws is mesmerizing and she can’t take her eyes off of him.
“Solooooo!” Poe bellows again.
This time he turns, and Rey sees his face for the first time.
“Oh fuck,” she breathes.
Because he’s absolutely not what she expected.
His features are, in one word: striking. Full lips sit beneath a prominent nose under dark eyes shaded by the slightly curved bill of his cap.
He nods in their direction, seeming to recognize Poe, then quickly turns back to his practice.
“I heard that,” Finn nudges her.
“You heard nothing,” she denies.
“Oh no,” he teases, slinging his arm around her shoulder and giving her a light hip check. “I definitely heard.”
“I heard too,” Poe chimes in from Finn’s other side. “Want me to set you up? I have it on good authority that he’s very single.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate how much her friends want to see her happy. She does. But, Poe Dameron’s method of attempting to set her up has never gone over well.
“Ah come on, sunshine!” He pouts.
“Nope. No way.” She shakes her head. “I’m still trying to forget my date with that guy from your paint and sip class.”
“Ooh yeah,” Finn winces. “That wasn’t our best match.”
The date in question was with a guy who went by the nickname Wedge —and that had been his best quality. That entire evening was one straight to DVD B-list comedy disaster after another.
Rey sighs. “At least you admit it.”
Poe isn't so quick to back down and grins at her with a conspiratorial smile. “Fine. I’ll own up to that disaster, but this will be different. I promise.”
Before she can protest, Poe’s hollering into the bullpen again.
“Hey, Solo! You still solo ?”
The sound of Finn slapping his hand to his forehead is the perfect accompaniment to the groan that escapes her lips.
“Poe! No!” She urges.
“Poe, yes,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
She peers into the bullpen, thankful that Ben Solo seems to be intently focused on his warm-ups and prays to every higher power she can think of that he didn’t hear Poe’s last question.
“Soloooo!” Poe bellows, cupping his hands around his mouth like he’s calling the cows back home. “My friend up here is very interested in having you take her around the bases.”
Rey catches a security guard staring at them and elbows Finn, nodding in the man’s direction.
“For fucks sake.” He grabs Poe and pulls him away from the fence. “Babe, seriously, come sit down.”
Poe relents and slips his arm around Finn’s shoulders, but not before yelling out one last time.
“ReyofSunshine99 on Instagram! Message her!”
Ben turns and looks again, this time making direct eye contact with her. She freezes, her brain begging her to duck or run or spontaneously turn into a puddle of clear liquid. But instead, she meets his gaze, her face flooding with warmth.
He regards her for a moment with a slight glimmer in his eyes, then spins back around again, throwing another ball into the glove of the catcher with a resounding thwack.
It’s enough to shake her out of her trance, and she flees before he can turn around and look at her again.
When the game begins, Solo takes his place on the pitcher’s mound.
Fortunately, he’s well out of earshot from Poe’s attempts to play matchmaker. Unfortunately, he’s too far away to properly see and she wonders, briefly, if anyone will notice if she uses the camera’s zoom feature on her phone as makeshift binoculars.
Finn leans over and grabs her attention before she can try. “We’re gonna go order something for lunch. You wanna come with us?”
She nods. Food is a very good distraction.
A mix of fly-outs and strikeouts on both sides make for an uneventful start to the game. The first three innings pass with no score as Rey eats pizza, drinks beer, and makes friendly small talk with a few of Finn’s co-workers. That is when she’s not sneaking peeks across the field whenever the other team is at bat and Ben is on the mound.
“We’re heading over to our seats,” Finn tells her as the third inning comes to an end. “We’ll be right on the field, you’ll have a much better view.”
“And we’ll be closer to the garlic fries!” Poe chimes in.
She’s amused by their attempts to convince her; not that she needs any, especially not if it means their new viewing spot will be closer to the action on the field. Or closer to certain players.
“Fine,” she dramatically sighs, pursing her lips into a teasing pout. “Lead the way.”
Their seats above the Mariners dugout on the first baseline are almost as close to the field as one can get.
They shuffle past the two people sitting on the end of their row and take the three empty seats beside them. From here, Rey has a straight shot of Ben Solo on the mound as he gears up to throw another pitch.
The batter hits the ball, sending it soaring through the air and straight into the mitt of the left fielder. A rumble of excitement from the crowd accompanies the change of music as the visiting team earns their third out and the players hustle from the field to their respective dugouts.
“Nice inning, Solo!” Poe yells as Ben runs towards them.
He looks up, searching briefly before his eyes settle on hers.
Then he winks.
And she’s officially gone.
⚾️
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Poe shoots out of his seat, whooping loudly as the Mariners finally add a score to the board with a triple in the bottom of the fourth. Up until then, Rey hasn’t really understood what is so thrilling about baseball (aside from the food, and the pitcher). But seeing the crowd on their feet and dancing to the peppy music that blares over the speakers is enough to bring a smile to her face as the players run around the bases.
“Get up, peanut,” Finn grabs her hand and pulls her out of her seat. “You have to celebrate!”
She reluctantly shakes her hips a few times, laughing as Poe and Finn dance beside her until the song cuts out and people around them start to sit again.
“Where’s this garlic fry place again?” she asks, looking up towards the 100-level concourse.
Finn links his arm with hers. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
The fries are as delicious as she’d imagined. Despite still being slightly full from the pizza she’d eaten at the bottom of the first, she practically inhales the cardboard boat of garlic-covered goodness in record time. Finn and Poe both attempt to steal a few, earning playful swats at their hands as she glares in their direction.
“Hey now,” Poe pretends to act affronted. “I may have set you up with an MLB player tonight. I think that earns me at least one fry.”
Rey digs to the bottom, plucking the smallest piece of fry she can find - an overcooked end that hardly has any garlic on it at all, and chucks it in his direction.
“You also almost got kicked out of the game before it started,” she points out. “That security guard was one more heckle away from coming over.”
Poe pops the fry in his mouth and grins as he chews and swallows. “Worth it.”
“Solo’s heading back onto the field!” Finn announces.
Rey’s eyes shoot up, watching as Ben strolls out to the mound. The boat of fries shifts on her lap and she looks down just in time to see Finn’s hand pulling away with a small handful of fries.
“Seriously?” She groans, and then she cracks —laughter bubbling over as she watches him divvy out his stolen goods between him and Poe, the two munching away happily and looking quite pleased with themselves.
“Thanks for the fries!” Poe adds after a moment.
She grins. “You two are lucky I love you so much.”
Returning her focus to the game, she watches intently as Ben begins to pitch for another inning. He’s precise, and graceful, and absolutely hypnotizing to watch. From here she’s close enough to see his expressions: the unwavering focus and sheer determination on his face when he makes every throw.
The stadium briefly hushes as the announcer comes over the speakers. “… Solo with the two-one pitch, and here comes the wind-up.”
Ben raises his right leg at a 90-degree angle, his torso twisting towards home plate as his arm extends forward and launches the ball cleanly towards its target. She holds her breath, watching as his eyes never leave its path until it hits the catcher's mitt with a resounding smack. The umpire calls a strike and she swears for a fraction of a second that Ben’s eyes flit up to meet hers; his lips curving slightly into a triumphant smirk.
It’s gone as quickly as it came and he shakes out his shoulders a few times before gearing up to pitch again.
It takes her until the top of the sixth inning to give in and finally Google Ben Solo. Discreetly turning to the side, she types his name into the search field and watches as a page full of results loads. Her finger is hovering over the first link when a commotion erupts around her as the player at bat hits a foul ball in their direction.
She watches as the ball soars above them, seemingly within reach, and then lands amongst a group of eager fans in the next section over.
“Are you googling him!?” Finn grabs for her phone while she’s distracted.
Rey shuts her screen off and shoves her phone into her pocket.
“Nope.”
Finn raises an eyebrow knowingly.
“Maybe,” she admits.
“No need.” Poe leans over and grins. “Ben Solo, son of Seattle Mayor Leia Organa and retired Air Force Colonel Han Solo. Born November 9th, 1990, signed with the Minnesota Twins in 2010 before being traded to the Baltimore Orioles in 2012 where he played until earlier this season. He was acquired in a trade this past spring and played his first game for the Mariners on May 16th. He lives in a condo in downtown Bellevue and drives a McLaren GT and I think Leia mentioned something about him making a really good lasagna recently.”
“Really?” Finn and Rey chorus together.
“Should I be worried about competition?” Rey teases.
“Should you be worried!” Finn scoffs. “ I’m the one who should be worried!”
“Neither of you has to worry,” Poe soothes before wrapping an arm around Finn and kissing him on the cheek.
“Strike him out!” Poe calls when the next batter steps up to the plate. “You’ve got this, Solo! Do it for Rey!”
“Oh my god, Poe.” She buries her head in her hand again. At least this time she’s sure they’re far enough away that he won’t hear.
With the count at three to two, the entire stadium goes quiet as Ben winds up to throw another pitch.
“If you strike him out, Rey will let you take her home!”
Poe’s voice echoes across the field just as the ball leaves Ben’s hand.
It’s a strike, and the inning is over.
Rey swears she sees Ben look right at her and wink, again, before he disappears into the dugout below them.
He’s replaced by a relief pitcher at the top of the seventh, and she’s surprised at how bummed she feels. After all, someone like him probably has girls catching his attention at every game. He’s probably changing and getting ready to head home to whatever supermodel hookup of the week he has waiting for him.
Even Poe seems discouraged that his plan to set her up didn’t pan out.
“Maybe he’ll remember your Instagram!”
“Doubtful,” Rey rolls her eyes. “And even if he did, I highly doubt he makes it a habit of messaging weird fans.”
Poe studies his phone for a minute and then looks up with a mischievous smile. “He might.”
Rey knows that look and she knows it rarely ends well.
“Poe,” she warns. “No more meddling.”
“I could probably get you his number,” he shrugs. “Just say the word.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She tells herself that she’s only saying that to get Poe off her back, but she knows it’s a lie. There’s a very large part of her that wouldn’t mind getting to know Ben Solo better. A lot better.
The game ends in the middle of the ninth with an explosion of fireworks when the Mariner’s secure a four-to-one victory. Rey watches the action on the field, hoping for one last glimpse of Ben before she leaves, but there’s no sign of him.
“Looking for someone?”
She glances over to see Finn and Poe watching her with knowing looks on their smug faces.
“Yeah,” she retorts. “New friends.”
Finn rolls his eyes. “Ahh come on, peanut, you had fun.”
She cracks a grin at that. Poe’s antics included, she did have a really good time.
“I suppose I’d come again for the garlic fries,” she agrees.
The two of them groan and she laughs.
Poe stands. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
⚾️
Finn: So, on a scale of one to ten, how good of a mood are you in?
The text message arrives later that evening as she’s getting ready for bed and she knows as soon as she reads the first few words that she’s not going to like what follows.
Rey: On a scale of one to ten, how worried should I be?
Finn: That depends…
Finn: Have you checked Poe’s Instagram stories yet?
Rey: Oh no
Finn: I am so sorry, I tried to stop him!
She swipes out of their text convo and opens Instagram. Poe’s profile is the first in the row of stories at the top of her screen.
Biting her lower lip, she clicks on the circle and watches as the first clip starts to play.
It’s not all bad; there are a few pictures with typical Poe captions of him and Finn in The Pen, an artistic shot of their drinks, and a shot of the field before the game began.
But then it quickly gets worse.
How she’d missed him taking videos as he attempted to set her up with Ben Solo is beyond her. She watches in horror as clips of her hiding behind her hands in embarrassment fill the screen while Poe yells in the background.
She notices on the fourth one that he’s tagged not only her but Ben as well.
There are already over twenty messages in her inbox. She recognizes a couple from her friends, but the majority are from people she’s never met, ranging from the encouraging “get it girl!” to explicit sexual innuendos and offers. She panics as they keep coming; the messages getting more and more vulgar and even downright cruel.
After switching her account to private, she’s about to close the app for the night when a new alert pops up: BenSolo has sent you a private message.
She eyes it cautiously at first, her finger hovering over the decline button. Surely it’s a fake account. She’s already looked at his social media pages and as far as she can tell he rarely uses them.
But then she second-guesses herself and clicks on the profile: 1.3 million followers, blue checkmark, and the same small assortment of professionally taken pictures she’d seen when she stalked his Instagram earlier that evening.
It’s him.
Holding her breath, she accepts the message and waits for it to appear on her screen.
Ben Solo: Dameron was really giving you a hard time at the game tonight, huh?
Rey: I’m pretty sure he was giving you a harder time than me
Rey: Sorry he was such a nuisance
Ben: I’m used to it. Besides, his set-up attempt was far more preferable to the usual taunts I get.
Ben: And I’ve met him a few times before. I’m not entirely surprised. Nuisance is pretty accurate.
She replies with a laughing emoji first, before adding another message.
Rey: He’s something else. He’s dating my best friend, Finn. That was the other guy with us at the game.
Ben: No date for you?
Rey: Nope. Hence the setup attempt.
Ben: Right.
She hesitates for a moment, staring at the screen as she tries to decide what to type next.
Rey: I’m sorry, again, that you were dragged into all of this.
Ben: I’m not.
Those two little words stop her in her tracks.
Ben: Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night if you’re free? I’d really like to get to know you better.
She’s still processing the I’m not when his third message arrives.
Ben: You don’t have to say yes. I don’t even know if you’re interested.
The bubbles that indicate he’s still typing snap her out of her shock and she quickly sends her response.
Rey: Yes!
Rey: It’s both. I’m interested and I’d love to go to dinner.
She waits nervously as the bubbles disappear, they reappear again, flitting across the bottom corner of her screen.
Ben: Oh good. Send me your address and I’ll pick you up at six?
Rey: Six is perfect.
She drops him a pin to her address, along with her cell number, and smiles when a thumbs-up response comes shortly after.
The notifications from her Instagram account keep building up, and despite having gone private, she’s still getting countless requests. It’s clear that Poe’s little stunt is on the verge of going massively viral and that’s the last thing she wants to happen.
Rey: Poe Dameron, delete your stories!
Poe: You wound me, Sunshine! I’m helping set you up!
She’s not about to tell him that his plan likely worked.
Rey: I’m being bombarded and had to go private! I’ll probably have to start a whole new account now. Thanks a lot.
Poe: Shit. I’ve hardly gotten anything on my end. I didn’t realize.
Poe: Consider it done.
Rey: Yeah, well, you tagged me in everything so I was pretty easy to find.
Poe: I’m sorry, really. I didn’t think this one through very well.
She’s typing out another ranting lecture to Poe when a new text notification pops up from an unknown number.
(206) 555-7783: Hi, it’s Ben. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
Maybe she shouldn’t be too mad with Poe, after all.