The Jealous Backup (Ab/Dl)

Connor's Pov:
It had been five days since the team bar night, and it was now two days until game day. The kid hasn't been talking to me much thankfully... but now he keeps watching me. I thought that I hated people who talk more, but the staring is just creepy and weird.
     I'm used to it when we are in an actual game, but it's just weird when a teammate does it. It makes me even more angry than the over-talking.
     "Hey, when you're pitching, make it curve lower in the end. I'm sick of reaching up high for them, the umps are gonna call those all balls." He snap at our pitcher. I was in such a bad mood, partly because I haven't slept in days and also, more particularly, that kid kept staring at me. It made my blood boil.
The pitcher just silently nodded and began throwing them down lower. "And now they're too damn low. Nobody is going to call that a strike." I groan and harshly throw the ball back at him. "You have got to step it up. We've got two days." I demand and get myself ready. He took a deep breath and threw another. It went above my head, but I quickly got up and snatched it. I glare at the pitcher, how could he be failing so badly all of a sudden?! I'm trying to help him and he isn't doing what I say. It's so irritating.
"Hey, do you think you could lower that a little? If we are ever in a game, I'll give you different signals to tell you how I want it- and we should definitely work on those hand signals!" I look over to see the backup pitcher, chatting away with the brat. I think I'll call him that from now on. It's what he is.
"Oh yeah, definitely! Give me one now and let me know what it is!" He smiles, but it only reminded me of those annoying smiles that overly nice people give, I hate how genuine it is. I hate the happiness he gives off. It's so irritating!
"Okay, this one here means I'm gonna give you a drop ball, so-"
"Got it! I'll lower my glove just a hair at the end, but raise it higher in the start to confuse the batter!!" He cheers out. I want to punch that smile off his face. He doesn't know squat.
"Alright, it's coming at you!" I watch as the pitcher took a breath, and with a fast wind up, threw it over. The ball dropped perfectly into the brat's glove, and he quickly threw it back... it was fine I guess.
"Connor?" I look over at the pitcher and quickly shake my head to get myself refocused.
"What?! I was getting ready relax!" I throw the ball back at him angrily, and the pitcher watched as it went behind him and hit the fence.
"Your temper won't fly in a game, Mr. Kruzer." I freeze up as I saw the coach standing behind me. "So far I've seen those two newbies communicate more in the past few days than I've heard you in years."
     "It's not my fault that I'm working with a mime!!" I protest and point at the pitcher. "He's the one that isn't talking! He can't even give me a lower ball when I ask for it!" I growl. I was not going to be blamed for someone else's lack of communication.
     "If I remember correctly, it is the pitcher's job to choose what they are doing-"
     "Well I would be if he would talk!" I growl.
     "Connor. Suicides. Now." The coach said plainly and pointed to the line of left field.
     This wasn't fair. I was the one actually trying to talk. "But-" I begin, trying to protest.
     "Talk back and I'm adding burpees afterward." He glares at me with a testing look. I bite my lip, holding in my protests as I made my way over to the white line.
     I begin on the suicides. This was so frustrating. I couldn't believe the unjustness here. I look over to see coach talking with the pitcher, but kept on.
     After a few minutes, I finished all the running (in my gear, not to mention, which made it a million times worse,) and made my way to the dugout. I drink some water and walk back out.
     "Kruzer, you will be throwing with Daniel." He says and points to the backup pitcher. "You are going to learn how to communicate, and if I don't see those communication skills during the scrimmage, you're out." He says simply and walked off.
     I look over at the pitcher and, that annoying little puke. I cannot stand this. He was starting to talk with the pitcher loudly and jumped around in excitement. It was so irritating to me. I grind my teeth together and look over at the backup pitcher, who put his hands up in defense with a nervous laugh. I could tell he was anxious to work with me. I'm the best catcher in the league, there is no need to get nervous about throwing with me. I could catch anything, even crappy balls that belonged to a backup.
     The rest of practice when just as you'd expect... apart from one thing; the pitcher was talking. He was talking away with the brat, and letting him know how he wanted things to work, and even taught him the hand signals. I found myself looking over at them throughout the entire practice, even when I was being pitched to. It didn't matter though, I would quickly get the ball after not paying attention, but that seemed to freak the backup out.
     I head for the dugout after practice and angrily began to shove my gear into it's bag, throwing my helmet in first, then the chest plate and leg parts. I was so angry. I know the coach wouldn't be stupid enough to replace me for a real game, but even then, he's just giving me more of a reason to hate the stupid brat.
     "What's got you so crabby?" Moose asked as he walked in, putting his glove into his bag.
     "I'll tell you later." I mumble without looking at him. "I don't want any idiots trying to tell you a different story..." I say and look around, seeing the other people in the dugout.
     "Well, Okay then." Moose shrugged. "Do you want to go grab some lunch with me? There's a new Chinese place down the street that sounded pretty good."
     "I'm not hungry." I pick up my bag and lugged it away, Moose following behind me.
     "We both know that's a lie. Get that stick out of your ass and just tell me what's up." Moose folds his arms and raises a brow at me. I could tell he wasn't going to leave until I explained. I groan and throw my equipment into our storage.
     "Fine. You want to know what? Coach said I wasn't communicating with the mute pitcher and made me practice with the backup and let the bratty stalking idiot throw with him and suddenly that mute guy is chatting with him and they are going over plays." I kick some dirt up and groan. "Why could be never talk with me?! I gave him tips and he never said a thing!!"
     Moose looked at me for a moment then sighed. "Yeah, that's gotta suck. But oh well, it'll be fine tomorrow. Maybe you just needed an over-talker to bring out at least some communication from the pitcher."
     "Yeah, well... whatever." I groan and make my way out of the field, shoving my hands in my pockets.
     "So... Chinese?" Moose asks with a smirk.
     "Obviously. When would I turn down some food?"  I sigh as we made our way into town. This better not be permanent.

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