No Smut (Scömìche One Shots)

Little League

A/N: Here have bby scomiche. And you better watch the video in the media box bc it will change your life (for the better).

**In 2014**

"You played soccer?!" Scott exclaimed.

Mitch's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You don't remember that one match when we went into penalty kicks and the ball kept hitting me in the face?"

Scott shook his head. "Nooooo..."

"You know what? Let me tell you the story, maybe it'll jog your memory."

**In 2000**

"We were both 6 years old at the time of this particular soccer match.

"The game was tied between my team, the Arlington Tumbleweeds, and our opponents, the Fort Worth Cacti. The score was 2-2.

"This worried my 6-year-old self since I was most likely the crappiest goalie in Little League history.

"But, I had no choice but to be the goalie for the penalty kicks since no one else had the guts to be the goalie.

"And they called me 'girly.'

"Anyway, the our team would kick first.

"The kid who was kicking, Matt Jason, managed to get the goal.

"Now I was to keep the score from becoming 1-1.

"I walked up to the net nervously, saying a silent prayer before I assumed my position.

"The kid who would be kicking for the Cacti was named Luke Quill. He was one of the strongest kickers on his team.

"'Today is the day I die.' I thought.

"Luke took a few steps back, then ran up and kicked the ball.

"From what I had learned whilst observing the chaos on the field during games sitting in front of the net because I was bored, Luke Quill had a certain body language that usually gave away in what direction he would kick the ball.

"He was running at a 78-degree angle, leaning towards the right.

"So, I dived to the right.

"Unfortunately, instead of catching it like I intended to, it went in the opposite direction, to the left. And if you start singing Beyoncé, I will kill you."

"I do not remember this at all, Mitch." Scott interrupts.

"Silence, peasant!" Mitch snaps.

Scott raises his hands innocently. "Okay! I'm sorry."

Mitch nods. "Thank you. Now before I was rudely interrupted, I had just made the wrong move and caused the other team to score, correct?"

"Yeah." Scott replies.

"Right. So I anticipated the wrong move and the other team scored.

"The next kid who was kicking for my team was visibly nervous. The Cacti's goalie was good. Really good.

"The kid kicked anyway, and he, as predicted, missed the net by a mile.

"It was once again my turn to keep the score even so the next kicker may score a goal, putting us in the lead.

"I thought the Cacti kid who was kicking would be easy to beat, however, he wasn't."

"You weren't kidding when you said that you were the crappiest goalie in Little League history."

"Shut up, Scott."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, the kid scored against me, I began to loathe my very existence on this earth, and I returned to the sidelines with the rest of my team.

"Thankfully, this kid on our team scored a penalty kick and the score is now 2-2.

"It was my turn once again and I needed to keep it tied.

"Luke stepped up to the ball.

"I thought for sure I was toast."

"Wait, so you actually blocked a shot for once?" Scott inquires.

"Yes, my tall, blond friend, I did block it for once."

"Oh, cool!"

"But it came with a price."

"Oh, no."

"As I said before... I had blocked the shot.

"Luke kicked the ball and it went soaring to the left.

"So I dove to the left.

"Instead of catching it like I originally intended, it hit me right in the face."

"Were you okay?"

"No, it hurt like crap."

"Oh..."

"I managed to help my team win regionals, but at the cost of my once perfect nose."

"Wait... so your nose is crooked because you got hit in the face with a soccer ball?"

"Yup."

"So what happened after that."

"You drove me to the hospital."

"You said we were six."

"Oh, right. Your mom drove me to the hospital."

"Ohhh! Okay. I still don't remember any of this but okay."

"How can you not remember?" Mitch asked, incredulous.

"Because it never happened." Scott replied emphatically.

"Yes it didah!" Mitch cried.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Mitchie. Let's just keep filming. We'll cut that out later."