Pitches! Long time no chat. Today we got news from The Hollywood Reporter that Disney might be using Pitch as a bargaining chip to keep Dan Fogelman at Fox. We are all good with that! Now, we don’t know if we have much time or what the odds are, but we have been given an extra at bat and we need ALL hands on deck.
We are putting together some ideas now for some activities that we can do to grab the attention of the folks at Disney. If you have any ideas please let us know. We know in the past we’ve asked a lot and you ALWAYS showed up. Many of you never gave up hope. Let’s show them who the Pitches are!
Follow us on Twitter @pitchstreetteam & keep using the hashtag #RevivePitch in the meantime. Tweet EVERYONE. We’ll be back with next steps soon!
@monkshoodr: Aunt Ginny is taking care of the boys while Blip/Evelyn take a weekend away to work things out and something goes wrong - so she calls Mike because she doesn't want to disrupt Blip/Evelyn's weekend
read on ao3
Mike couldn’t help the helpless, no doubt downright goofy smile that unfurled across his face when Ginny Baker lit up the screen of his phone. It didn’t matter that it was barely eight in the morning, he was in the middle of making breakfast, and just a second ago, he’d been annoyed to hear the damn thing even ring.
There wasn’t a time of day he didn’t want to hear from Ginny, and it didn’t happen so often that he was going to waste this chance.
Not, of course, that he was about to let her know that.
“Whaddya want, Baker?” he asked, phone balanced between his cheek and shoulder. He flipped his pancake with a practiced flick of his wrist. It was the offseason, okay? A man couldn’t live on scrambled egg whites and whole grain toast his whole life.
Still, those pancakes could wait for his favorite rookie.
The second he heard the panicked edge in Ginny’s voice, he knew that they definitely would.
“Lawson?”
He moved the pan off the burner. Automatically, a hand came up to hold his phone, like it would give him better control of the situation.
“Ginny?” he asked, heart already beginning to pound. And for good reason. She never sounded this shaky, this scared. Not even when she’d been in the hospital, her career hanging from the strength of her overworked tendons. Only something monumental could have her so unsteady. “What happened? What do you need?”
“I lost one of them,” she practically hissed, teetering right on the edge of panic. Mike was right there with her.
“One of what?” he demanded, already abandoning the kitchen and his breakfast in search of his keys. The more information he had before he left, the better he’d be prepared when he got to her.
“One of the twins.”
Mike’s frantic preparations ground to a halt even as his thoughts continued to race, trying to make sense of what she’d just said.
Twins. The Twins didn’t play in San Diego until June, and he was pretty sure they were out East this weekend. How could Ginny have lost one of them? Which didn’t even address what business she could possibly have that would put her in a position to lose one of them in the first place.
Unless...
He blinked once, then twice, then a bunch of times in a row, like each flash of darkness could reset his dawning comprehension. There was no way— Ginny couldn’t possibly mean she’d—
“You lost an entire kid?”
“Better than half of one!” she snapped, shrill and clearly terrified.
Taking a deep breath, Mike listened until Ginny instinctively mimicked him. “Good,” he murmured, making his voice go low and soothing. She made a sound of impatience on the other end of the line, as if she knew exactly what he was trying to do, but Mike didn’t let that sway him. “Now, tell me what happened.”
With a bit more composure, Ginny told him, “Blip and Ev went out of town and asked if I could take the kids.”
“Why would Blip and Ev trust you with their kids?” As soon as it was out of his mouth, Mike knew it probably wasn’t the best thing to say. After all, right about now, down one Sanders boy, Ginny was probably wondering the same thing.
Nonetheless, her reply was instantaneous. And indignant.
“Because I am great with them! We watch TV, play video games, eat junk food, and run around the yard until their sugar high crashes. It’s foolproof.”
“What part of foolproof involves losing an entire 8-year-old?”
Ginny didn’t laugh, though he didn’t really expect her to. She just barrelled on with the story. “They wanted to play hide and seek. I didn’t even think about saying no, but Blip and Ev’s new house is A) huge and B) unfamiliar.”
He winced. “You never had a chance, Baker.”
“Are you gonna laugh at me or help?”
He sighed down the line, but since Ginny could probably already hear the clinking of his keys when he replied, “I’ll be there in fifteen,” he didn’t feel that bad about it.
“Make it ten,” she replied just before the line went dead and Mike could answer that he was already planning on it.
A bare eleven minutes later, Mike was standing on the front step of the new Sanders house. He tried to push aside the knowledge that he hadn’t been invited to the housewarming party, and how weird it felt to visit for the first time without the owner’s permission. Then again, it wasn’t like Blip was going to find out about this.
He raised his hand to knock once more just as the door swung open. His knuckles rapped smartly against Ginny’s forehead.
She huffed and glared at him but didn’t bother to give him any grief. Instead, Ginny just turned on her heel and marched back into the house, her head swiveling as if she might catch out a hiding 8-year-old if she was just vigilant enough. The set of her shoulders, even with one arm still confined to a sling, told Mike everything he needed to about how worked up she was. The sooner they found Ginny’s lost charge, the sooner the tension would leave her, and the sooner his need to touch her, soothe her, would go with it.
“How long has it been since you saw—”
“Gabe. It’s Gabe. And it’s been—” she said, leading Mike into an immaculate kitchen. Blip and Ev’s last kitchen had been nice, but this place was another thing entirely. Just the place for a woman who was toying with opening a restaurant of her own, or so Mike had heard through the scant gossip that had filtered his way this offseason. Ginny pressed her palm to the marble counter, frowning down at her right as if she was surprised the sling got in her way. She sighed, and Mike forced his feet to remain rooted to the floor rather than cross the distance and pull her into his arms. “It’s been less than an hour. Maybe 45 minutes?”
“And you don’t think he left the house?”
Ginny snorted. “Ev put the fear of God in them before she and Blip left. She said if they went anywhere without me, she’d know and they wouldn’t see a video game for months.”
“Sounds like Ev,” he said, grinning. Ginny smiled weakly back, and his heart thumped hard against his chest. “Where’s Marcus?”
“Watching some stupid cartoon in his room. He helped me look for a while, but he got bored. Said Gabe had done this before and would come out when he was ready.”
“But you don’t think that’s true.”
The one shoulder shrug Ginny gave him was half helpless, half lost. “What if he got stuck?” she asked, eyes bright and wild with worry. “What if he can’t call for help? Or he’s not even here? What if—”
“Hey,” Mike said, stepping close for the first time. He put his hand out, just to cup Ginny’s elbow, offer a little comfort, but he got so much more. Ginny collapsed into him. Her good arm wrapped around his waist, her right cradled between them. Breath shuddering through them both, she pressed her forehead against his chest. Automatically, he put his hand on her back and rubbed big, sweeping circles, anything to keep it from settling in one place and holding on for dear life. She was so warm, felt so perfect, it was hard to keep his mind on track. “It’s all right. We’re gonna find him.”
“I know.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, and Mike couldn’t tell for sure, but he could have sworn she sniffled, too. Either way, when Ginny pulled herself away, her eyes were dry. She nodded once, decisive. “We’ll find him.”
He nodded back. “Then let’s get started.”
“Thanks for coming to the rescue,” she murmured much later, when the twins were both sound asleep, and Mike and Ginny were pretty close to it, slumped comfortably together on the living room couch.
It had taken them far longer to find Gabe than Mike would care to admit. (It was an hour and 37 minutes, Ginny getting more and more frantic with each passing moment and every closet they cleared as Mike tried to keep his cool.) Of course, when they finally tracked him down in the basement, curled in the cabinet that housed the laundry chute, he didn’t even bother to look up from the game he was playing on his Gameboy when he observed, “Took you long enough.” Then, he’d scrambled out of the cupboard and bounded off to search for his brother. No doubt to cook up even more mayhem.
Mike and Ginny had turned to stare at each other in speechless shock. Well, Ginny was shocked. Mike was, too, but he’d been busier trying to count the exact number of colors swirling through Ginny’s gorgeous eyes; it wasn’t all that often recently that he got the opportunity to see them up close. He was cut off when she’d let out a bright, relieved peal of laughter and collapsed against him in boneless relief. Her warm, pliant curves pushed against him was more than his brain could take.
“Oh, thank God,” she’d gasped, her breath warm against his neck, and that— That was definitely more than his brain could or should take.
“Told you we’d find him,” he somehow managed, in what he hoped was a level tone. Considering the way his hands had found their way to her waist—low enough to nearly be her hips, far enough back to nearly be the perfect ass he’d stopped slapping when he realized he liked the way it always made her jolt a little too much—it was a miracle he could speak at all.
“You did,” Ginny agreed as she pulled away. She’d looked up at him then, wondering and radiant. Mike could do nothing more than look right back, sure that his every thought, every feeling was right there for her to see.
They’d stared at one another for another long beat, but there was no shock in this moment. They’d known about this since last August.
Ginny looked away first. She’d blinked, her lashes falling to her cheeks, and while Mike didn’t break his gaze, when Ginny looked up again, her eyes had fixed on a point over his shoulder. Still, she’d smiled.
“I could use a drink. You?”
He’d cleared his throat. “Sure. But only if you know where Blip’s put his good bourbon.”
Of course, she did. So, he’d stayed. And then, well, Mike had just gone on staying. He’d made dinner for them all when the boys revealed half of their frozen pizza had been burned at lunch—even made sure there were vegetables on their plates. He’d watched Ginny cream Gabe and Marcus at Mario Kart one-handed, and even schooled them all for a round. (Okay, he’d gotten his ass kicked six ways to Sunday, but the way Ginny cackled victoriously was more than worth the blow to his ego.) He’d made it all the way through the kids’ bedtime. If he wasn’t careful, he’d make it to his before ever leaving.
It didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Dangerous, but not bad.
Mike shrugged, jostling Ginny’s head where it rested on his shoulder, but not enough to make her move it. Which was just fine by him. “You know me. Say the word, and I’m on my way.”
She hummed, soft and sleepy. Her cheek pressed harder against his shoulder, and he took her weight gladly. Out of the end of her sling, her fingers curled into his shirt. “I know.”
The breath that rushed out of Mike’s lips was more ragged than it should have been. He closed his eyes, and for an instant—just a moment—he let himself imagine. Imagine that he hadn’t spent the day just playing house with Ginny. Imagine that this was real. This was his couch and his person and his life.
The arm he’d draped over the back of the couch dropped down to curl tentatively around Ginny’s shoulders. He felt like a fourteen-year-old on his first movie date, too nervous to put his arm around the girl beside him, worrying she’d shrug him off or spill their popcorn in his lap.
But Ginny didn’t protest. If anything, she settled even closer.
Mike opened his eyes.
“I should go.” The suggestion was too loud for the quiet room, but it had to be said. If Mike let himself stay another minute, he was sunk. He was never going to get out of this house without being consumed—forever probably—with wondering what it would be like to make Ginny fall in love with him.
Which would only make him wonder how to do it.
And if he figured that out, Mike just knew he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from following through.
Ginny didn’t reply, so he said it again. “I should go.” This time, he coupled the words with movement. He shifted, pulling his arm away. Before he could get too far, though, her grip on him tightened. She didn’t take any of her weight back, either. Mike finally chanced a look down into her face.
Her eyes were shut, eyelashes a dark smudge against her cheek, her lips were parted, soft breaths puffing out in quiet snores.
She’d fallen asleep.
If Mike let himself think about it, he’d talk himself into extracting himself from Ginny’s warm, exquisite weight and either arranging her snugly on the couch or picking her up and getting her into a bed. His knees might not like the strain, but they could handle her. He could handle her. He’d talk himself into putting her to bed, checking on the twins one last time, locking up the house, and driving home alone.
Mike didn’t let himself think about it.
He twisted a little so he could lie back, bringing Ginny with him, tucked perfectly between his side and the back of the couch. It put him right on the edge of the cushions, perilously close to falling, but it wasn’t as if he wasn’t familiar with that sensation. Their legs stretched out, knees knocking together.
This was the dangerous choice. The good one, but the one that would have some part of the back of Mike’s brain working overtime from here to eternity figuring out what he could do to recapture this feeling, make sure he never went another second without it.
Mike didn’t let himself think about that either. He closed his eyes and let Ginny’s steady breaths lull him to sleep.
Hey Pitchfam, be on the look out for info from @pitchstreetteam about our next move. In the meantime, tweet Disney and/or Fox with the hashtag #revivepitch. Or even tweet about pitch in general with #revivepitch on Twitter as much as you can.
We’re trying to show the networks that were still interested in Pitch as well as have the show trend as much as we can.
They need to know that there is still an audience for this show.
As mentioned PST will update us soon about what to expect next for the campaign.
Also, to my pitch writers, write one shots or update your stories informing the readers of thtis new development.
rockawaysworld replied to your post “#RevivePitch”
Is this for real? I dont know what to think.
For real, for R E A L
We figure it doesn’t hurt to give it one last shot to get our voices heard when they’re discussing it already without us. Let’s just show them how much we love it and that’s it. We literally cannot lose anything else :)
