Chapter Text
Ty couldn’t remember the last time he felt this much rage. Even as things had begun to calm down he could feel his hands shaking and his heart racing. He glanced again at where KJ was now sat cradled between Prime’s knees, head tilted back against the man’s abdomen as the elder held a bandana to KJ’s profusely bleeding head. How the fuck did this even happen?
Ty wished he’d seen it coming. He wished he could’ve intervened before the situation hit fever pitch. But how could anyone have predicted such random violence?
It began like most off nights do, a rowdy bunch of bananas hitting Barrelhouse South for drinks and some live music. It had become their usual haunt, a favorite for the normalcy it awarded them. Something about the dim lights and the chaos of the environment helped with anonymity. Ty can’t recall ever being asked for an autograph in all his visits. The music and dancing were top tier too.
The group was thinner than usual, some exhausted by the triple header, but they didn’t need numbers to have a good time.
The energy was infectious, the seven men jostling and giggling as they aimed to fill two booths in the back corner.
“Jackson!” Their usual bartender hollered, catching the attention of both Ty and KJ. KJ bounded toward the man and enthusiastically dabbed him up. “Jackson!” KJ chirped back. Ty cackled as he draped over KJ and pointed at the man, also surnamed Jackson. “Jackson!” “Jackson!”
Jackson Olson approached also chiming in. The joke hadn’t dimmed since their first encounter with the cheerful man.
The bartender had become a good friend and always made sure to take good care of his boys- heavy pours all around.
In typical fashion, they found their way to the dance floor, several drinks deep. Ty recalled KJ and Jackson giggling as they belted out the lyrics into each other’s faces, both immersed in the giddiness of a night out with the guys.
He’d lost track after that, trying to talk up a few girls with no luck. Ty had been about to rejoin the group when he heard the booming voice of a clearly drunk and clearly angry man.
Spinning toward the commotion, Ty felt his heart drop as he watched a huge blonde clad in flannel grab a bottle and crash it into his best friend’s face.
What. The. Fuck.
The man didn’t stop there, he stooped to where KJ had crumpled -head already sticky with red from the wound- and began hissing out slurs.
Something about the F word being snarled at their dear sweet rookie had kicked Ty back into motion. And he wasn’t alone.
Within an instant both Cox and Leroy were on the assailant, Leroy wrestling the man to the ground and pinning him with a forearm to the throat and his enormous thighs locked around the assholes waist. Ryan and Ty latched onto the man’s arms and legs as they fought to keep him subdued. Ty could hear Coach RAC on the phone with emergency services and suddenly feared that in the chaos nobody had tended to KJ.
Whipping his head over, Ty let out a breath of relief as he watched Jackson tearfully maneuver KJ so he was resting with his back against Prime who was holding Jackson’s bandana against the wound.
“Can you hear me KJ?” Jackson asked, crouched in front of his roommate and likely trying to assess for any sign of concussion.
KJ blinked sluggishly, flinching when Jackson briefly wobbled forward, attempting to maintain his crouch while so many shots were in his system.
“Sorry, sorry,” Jackson croaked, pulling back to give KJ space. But the younger wasn’t having it. He clamped his hand over Jackson’s wrist and pale and trembling, let out a whine.
“Stay?”
Immediately, Jackson quit trying to pull away and knelt to steady himself.
“You got it. Not leaving you man,” Jackson promised.
Ty’s attention was pulled back as the man below them began to thrash again.
“Let me go you motherfuckers,” he snarled as he pulled wildly against the three athletes restraining him.
The drunken rant swelled as he dropped slur after slur. He began spitting about how KJ’s “kind” was contaminating the country and pivoted to the N word when Ty told him to shut the fuck up.
When the man began to yell about how they were all going to hell, RAC pocketed his phone and leaned close.
“Friend I really don’t think you speak for God,” the faith fueled outfielder interrupted. “But I’ll be praying for your repentance.”
Lunging forward the man spat in RAC’s face before Leroy could wrestle him back.
Ty couldn’t fathom where his friend’s patience came from because that would have been his last straw. Before he could do anything reactionary though, a sharp yell cracked through the crowd. The music had already halted and the lights had been turned on, but it was the cops that finally began to clear the dance floor.
“Police! Everybody step back!”
Everything moved quickly from there as the man was handcuffed and escorted out. Jackson, their bartender, gave an official statement vouching for the actions of the team in response to the attack. Suddenly everything seemed to be moving too quickly for Ty.
As KJ was tended to by paramedics, Ty felt the adrenaline crash begin to hit.
That was insane. That was fucking insane. He glanced around and realized his friends were hovering with the same shock and discomfort apparent on their faces. KJ was a sweetheart. Nothing about him was remotely confrontational in spaces like this. It just didn’t make sense.
RAC offered to take KJ to the ER for stitches, he was the only one sober after all, and on their salary nobody wanted to pay for an ambulance ride if they could avoid it. He ran for his car as Jackson and Prime gently guided the battered rookie to his feet and toward the exit. The group hovered, anxious and protective, postponing the order of their Ubers home until KJ was carefully tucked into the passenger seat of RAC’s jeep.
“We love you brother,” Ty reminded his mini me before closing the door.
As he watched the car turn a corner and out of sight, an ache pulsed through him. Something triggered all of this. And he was kind of nervous about what that might be.