Preview time!
Currently working on my next fic, titled Put Me In, Coach! part of the That's Baseball, Baby! series!
It is finally Eddie's turn to take the field. He's been selected for the 2027 Celebrity All-Star Softball game, but he's never even held a bat. But with Steve being selected to participate in the Home Run Derby, he has to do his boyfriend proud.
Preview Below!
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Eddie Munson was in the last place he thought he would ever be on a Thursday afternoon.
He tucked an errant curl behind his ear that had escaped the messy bun on the back of his head and kicked the dirt under his feet before taking a deep breath. Feet slightly wider than his shoulders, knees bent, weight shifted to his left foot, hands near his shoulder, right on top, left on bottom, eyes forward-
“Jesus H. Christ, Steve!” He squawked, shuffling backwards as a large yellow ball arced slowly over the plate next to him, dropping the bat in his hands.
Steve laughed at his reaction, bent over to rest his hands above his knees as his mirth bubbled over, before reaching into the bucket next to him, grabbing another softball. The warm afternoon June sun kissed his skin, making him look more radiant than ever. He had on athletic shorts that hit mid-thigh and one of Eddie’s band shirts, the sleeves ripped off, the stretched arms showing a good amount of Steve’s ribs. He completed the look with a backwards baseball cap, a shock of his messy, wavy hair sticking through the hole in the front. He encased his left hand with a brown-and-tan baseball glove, the leather soft and well-loved, and he tossed a softball up and down with his right hand. The man was made for the summer, for warm sunny days on the field, for lazy days stretched out in the sand on a beach. Even his hair had threads of gold running through it, and Eddie was sure that if it weren’t for the near-constant use of a baseball hat or catcher’s mask, his whole head would look like Rumplestiltskin spun it himself.
Eddie was a different kind of creature, made for moonlight and stargazing. He had on a similar outfit to Steve, but where Steve gleamed radiant and golden in the light, Eddie blinded with swaths of pale skin, splotches on his arms, shoulders, and nose already radiating a soft pink from the sun’s angry tirade against him. He had refused a baseball hat, but with the way the stiff Chicago breeze whipped around them, he regretted it, wispy curls obscuring his vision as the breeze tugged and pulled at his messy topknot. He sighed, stooping to pick up the dropped bat.
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