Chapter Text
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.
“You know, it’s not too late for me to call them back and just say no,” Eddie grunted, sticking the end of the bat in the dirt and leaning on the knob like a cane.
“Eddie,” Steve pouted, “You’re going to be fine, you just need to get used to the balls coming at you first.”
“I clearly have no issue with balls coming at me, Steve,” He snarked, smirking cheekily at the cackle and soft blush that erupted from his boyfriend, “But clearly I’m not the same kind of crazy as you. How do you stand up there with people hurling weapons at you like that?”
“Sorry,” Steve conceded, “I’ll try and slow my pitches a bit more. It’s a slow-pitch game, so even if it hits you, it won’t hurt.”
Eddie scoffed at that, waving Steve away, “Says you, mister ‘I take hundred mile fastballs to the chest for a career’.”
Steve drops the softball back in the bucket, putting his hand on his hip and furrowing his brow at Eddie. “Are you going to be a brat about this, babe?” He teases, tipping his head slightly and arching his brow.
Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically, expelling a sigh equally as melodramatic. “Always gonna be a brat,” he grumbles, before stepping back in the batter’s box and running through his batting stance checklist, “But I guess I can give your balls and stick game a triple-senior-year try.”
Steve smirked at his attitude, feeling the affection layered in with Eddie’s teasing and bratty nature, before snagging a softball from the bucket and tossing it up in the air to catch in his mitt a couple of times, before rolling the ball in his right hand to position it and facing towards Eddie.
“You ready this time, sweetheart?” He chirps at him, a teasing smirk on his golden face.
“That celebrity softball game won’t know what hit 'em, babe,” Eddie teases back, wiggling the bat exaggeratedly in his ready position.
Eddie was still terrified, latent memories of things being thrown at him echoing in his mind, but if his smokeshow of a boyfriend could do this for a living, he could step up for this. He also wouldn’t be caught dead shrieking and scrambling back from a pitch by someone like John Mulaney of all people. He took a deep, centering breath, mimicking those yoga videos Steve used in the offseason to stay limber, then lifted the bat and looked to Steve, who raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement before swinging his arm back and lobbing the softball forward. Eddie followed it with his eyes, giving a swinging hack once it neared home plate. The momentum of the bat continued forward, spinning him around, tying up his feet as he staggered to stay upright. He looked up to see Steve cackling, hands on his knees and eyes shining with mirth as Eddie pouted and flipped him off dramatically.
“Almost had it, babe,” Steve chuckled, before grabbing another softball, “When you start to extend past home plate, let go with your left hand so you don’t get so twisted up. Eddie grumbled under his breath at him, all the things he had to keep track of while holding this stupid bat before lifting it once again, sticking his tongue out at Steve to signal he was ready.
Steve reared back and lobbed in a soft pitch again, Eddie’s gaze firmly fixed on the yellow ball arcing towards him, hesitating briefly before swinging. He felt the hit before his vision even processed it, the contact vibrating up through the metal bat into his hands and arms. He stared with his mouth open as it rolled past the pitcher's mound into the left side of the infield. Steve had a manic grin on his face, both hands extended into the air.
“Holy shit, Eds,” he exclaimed, “You hit it! Run to first.”
Eddie looked back and forth frantically between the base and the bat before he decided to drop the bat to scamper over to first base, Steve moving to intercept his path. Eddie’s foot hit the bag just before Steve lifted off his feet, muscular arms wrapped around his thighs. He was spinning, Steve’s joyous laughter spilling out around Eddie, who braced both hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. After a few more spins, Steve loosened his grip, slowly dropping Eddie to the ground until they were nose to nose, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s waist. Eddie’s hands slid from Steve’s shoulders to his chest, patting him gently as Steve’s lips pressed a firm kiss to Eddie’s cheek. As Steve pulled back and looked into Eddie’s eyes, he could see the happiness sparkling in Steve’s warm eyes.
“Is it that surprising that I managed to hit it, big boy?” Eddie crooned, nuzzling the tip of Steve’s own with his own before chuckling to himself. Eddie could feel the laughter swell from Steve, a deep rumble within the catcher’s chest as he cast his eyes slightly up at Eddie.
“I had absolute faith in you, sweetheart,” Steve teased, a mischievous lopsided grin splitting his face. Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning his face away, acting as if he was dramatically pulling himself away from Steve’s embrace but not actually trying very hard to make that happen. Steve began peppering Eddie’s cheeks and jaw with playful, apologetic kisses, causing the taller man to wrench away as the kisses and huffs of laughter tickled the side of his neck. Eddie playfully pushed Steve’s face away as he broke from the man’s grasp, before the affectionate moment turned into a playful shoving match between the two, and they were both interrupted by a soft voice.
“Umm, excuse me,” The voice said, causing them to both turn their heads. A group of three boys, the eldest no older than 10 or so, stood with baseball gloves, the eldest nervously rubbing the stitched seam of the ball in his glove. He looked to the other two boys, who nodded encouragingly, before looking back to Steve.
“Are you Steve Harrington?” The boy asked, looking up at Steve nervously. Steve smiled softly before crouching down to be at eye level with the kids. Eddie chuckled softly as he realized the position mirrored Steve’s catching position, wondering if Steve even realized he was doing it or if it was so ingrained in him now that it was just how he was comfortable.
“I am,” Steve confirmed, causing excited exclamations to bubble forth from the boys as they looked between each other and back to Steve, “What are your names?”
“I’m Paul,” the eldest said with a bit more confidence. “This is my little brother Duncan and my best friend, Liam.”
Steve held out a hand for them to shake, having dropped his own glove before running to embrace Eddie at first base earlier. The boys all wrenched the gloves off quickly to enthusiastically shake Steve’s hand, stars in their eyes as Steve focused his attention on each of them.
“What was it like to win the World Series?” Liam asked excitedly, bouncing on his toes.
“It was amazing,” Steve gushed, the boys smiles growing even bigger, soft exclamations of excitement bouncing between them. “I dreamed about winning the World Series since I was probably about your age,” he explained, gesturing to Duncan, “I’ve watched the Cubs play since I was your age, too, so getting to win it for my hometown team? Even better.”
“Are you gonna win the home run derby this year, Mister Steve?” Paul asked, Steve chuckling softly at his question.
“I’m going to do my best, Paul.” Steve smiled, Eddie’s heart warming at how utterly focused Steve was on the boys in front of him.
Eddie always enjoyed watching Steve interact with young fans. Experiencing spring training with him this year was exceptionally heart-warming, as he would stay as long as he could after practices to sign balls and cards for any young fans who showed up, often having to be almost physically pulled away by a member of the training staff to make the pre-game huddle in the locker rooms. Because of the nature of his music, Eddie didn’t have the same experiences with his fans, many of whom were older, so how gentle and focused Steve was with his young fans made his heart glow with affection every time.
“Mister Steve,” Duncan, the youngest, began, tugging on the side of Steve’s shirt gently, “Would you play catch with us?”
Steve looked over to Eddie, then back to the boys. “Only if Mister Eddie can play too,” Steve said back, causing the boys to look over and up at Eddie before glancing back at Steve, “I’m helping him train for the celebrity softball game during All-Star Week. Do you want to help too?”
The boys all jumped up and down excitedly, nodding their enthusiastic consent before sprinting off to various points on the field, Eddie and Steve both laughing at their energy.
“Hope that’s okay,” Steve said, eyes crinkled with mirth, Eddie nodding enthusiastically before Steve jogged away from him, snagging his glove off the ground before punching his fist into it and snapping the mitt open and closed a couple of times at Paul to signal he was ready. The boy enthusiastically launched the ball towards Steve, causing him to jump to make the catch, but he managed to snatch the ball out of the air and land solidly on two feet. He looked to Duncan, making sure the boy was watching him, before softly tossing the ball to him. The ball hit the back of Duncan’s glove, but the young boy wasn’t able to close the glove around it in time, the ball rolling out and thudding to the ground. Duncan grabbed it enthusiastically before putting his entire little body into tossing a pitch at Eddie, who reached out and down to snag it a few feet from the ground, wide eyes shooting over to Steve in surprise that he caught it, before looking to Liam and making an underhand toss to the boy. The group continued their game of catch for well over an hour before a man called out to them to wrap up as he wandered over to them. His brow furrowed in concern as he drew closer before realization dawned on him that the boys were playing catch with an MLB player.
“Dad!” Liam exploded, running up to the man excitedly, “We got to play catch with Steve Harrington.” Steve smiled, waving to the man as they all drew closer, tossing the ball underhanded back to Paul.
“I see that,” the man said pointedly, looking between Steve and Eddie, bewildered. “I hope these boys didn’t give you too much trouble.”
“Not at all,” Steve beamed, using his folded glove to softly pat Paul on the head as he drew up behind him, “They’ve got great arms, and were even helping Eddie train a little.”
The dad smiled softly at the boys before his eyes wrenched up to Eddie, “Holy shit, you’re Eddie Munson.” The boys all scolded him for his language, little Duncan mumbling a soft you’re not supposed to say that as Steve and Eddie chuckled.
“The one and only,” Eddie said, bending at the waist and extending his arms dramatically to the sides before righting himself and winking cheekily, “Though I’ve been told that’s actually statistically unlikely.”
The dad laughed before pulling out his phone, “Do you mind if I get a picture of you two with the boys?”
“Of course!” Steve beamed, dropping to a crouch behind them, one knee on the ground, his elbow on the other. Eddie joined, but much more slowly, as he felt a knee pop, electing to stay in the squat with both knees up and his hands resting mid thigh as they leaned in to get the picture. The boys all thanked them loudly before the dad had them wrangled and was herding them back to the parking lot. As they exited the field, Eddie snaked his lanky arms around Steve’s middle from behind, chin resting on Steve’s shoulder. Steve knocked his head softly into Eddie’s before turning and placing a gentle kiss on the man’s cheek.
“Think we can mark that down as a successful practice,” Steve mused, shifting his weight to lean further into Eddie, who hummed in approval. The two remained in their position for a moment, content to exist in each other’s embrace before Eddie’s stomach grumbled loudly.
“Eddie, I could feel that,” Steve exclaimed, laughing and pulling away as Eddie attempted to swat at him playfully. The pair eventually moved to begin cleaning up the softballs littered around home plate, bumping into each other’s arms on the way back to Steve’s car to set off in search of dinner.