baseball=life

if you ever feel bad about your eyebrow game just remember that mads mikkelsen is hotter than the inside of a freshly baked hot pocket in the deepest lava pit of hell and his eyebrow game is weak as as fuck

a little present from me to my fave hemmocrat and also to anyone that’s not quite as into drunk!sos/ winemom!calum as I am :-)

You checked the address on your phone one last time before reaching up to ring the doorbell, hearing the bells echo throughout the house. In a matter of seconds, the door swung open to reveal a tall figure in the doorway, with a pair of bright blue eyes and a black lip ring sitting at the corner of his mouth. He blinked at you in the morning light. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you repeated, a little thrown at his confusion, “are you Luke?”

He broke out into a smile, any trace of confusion now gone from his face. “Yeah. Fuck, sorry. Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you to enter his home. “Thanks again. I umm. I didn’t really know what to do with your friend.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, and then smiled at you sheepishly. “You were the last phone call she made, so I assumed you must be friends.”

You laughed slightly, trying not to blush. Whatever you’d been expecting, you hadn’t been expecting the boy from the phone this morning to be this cute. “She doesn’t do this, like, ever, actually. The only reason I believed you when you called was because it was from her number.”

He gave a small laugh. “Well, she and Calum really hit it off last night. Usually, when I offer to DD, he knows better than to bring someone home. But he insisted.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well, who knows, maybe this’ll be a thing.”

He bit his lip ring and turned a little pink as he smiled down at you. “Yeah, I hope so.” He shot a glance down the hallway towards what you assumed was Calum’s room, before turning back to you. “Well, they’re not quite up yet, do you maybe want a cup of coffee or something?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” 

He led you into the kitchen and started a pot, before taking a seat across from you at the table. He cleared his throat a bit and crossed his arms across his chest, attempting to appear nonchalant. “So, you know, maybe we should umm. Exchange numbers. Just in case this does become a thing.” He looked up at you through his eyelashes, his blue eyes hopeful. “Be like, a designated driver squad kind of thing, or something.”

You could barely bite back your grin as you nodded at the boy across from you, butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Never in your life had you been so glad one of your friends went home with a stranger. “Yeah, I’d like that.”