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“Great hustle, Buckley!” Steve claps from the dugout. His teammates give him a look. Which is fair, since he is cheering for the other team, but fuck it, it’s for charity and Robin is crushing their team.
“Harrington, you’re up after Ricky,” says their sort-of-coach, mostly queer wrangler, Aries. It’s slow-pitch softball. They’ll break out beers when it’s over, but for now, the competitive streak runs deep.
Ricky drives the ball past first base —Robin— and makes it to third base. Now it’s Steve’s job to make sure she gets to home. Steve’s at bat and slices it down the center. He sprints to first base and misses the moment Robin catches the ball. Then she’s there tagging him out. “Better luck next time, dingus.”
Steve grins and tackles her in a sweaty hug.
Robin pushes against his chest. “Eww, gross! Get back to your dugout.”
Steve laughs and jogs back to his teammates.