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Seventh Inning Stretch

by Nestra

Thanks: shrift, for the lookover, and melymbrosia, for being my Jewish resource.

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and believe me, I'm not making any money off of my fanfic.


The ball flashed out of Sanderson's hand and thudded into the dirt at McKay's feet. The crowd let out a disgusted moan, and Casey dropped his head to his knees.

"Oh, please!" he heard Dan yell. "My grandma could pitch better than that!"

He lifted his head and checked the scoreboard, in case the Yankees had magically gained six runs. They hadn't. "Don't you think you might be exaggerating just a little?"

"Trust me, man. You never saw my grandma pitch. She had a wicked slider. And an excellent recipe for homemade apple kugel."

Sanderson threw a desperate fastball, and they both watched as McKay pounced on it and sent it deep into left field. It dropped between two outfielders; McKay pulled up short on second. Even from behind home plate, Casey could see the look of satisfaction on the man's face.

"This is pretty disgraceful," he said. "The first time in months that I've actually been able to go to a real live game instead of sitting on the couch in our office watching highlights, and the Yankees forgot to show up."

"Because it's only fun if the Yankees win?"

"No. It's just more fun."

Danny patted him jovially on the back, and Casey spared a silent moment to rejoice in a world that let men in sports touch each other on a regular basis. "Do you have a hot dog?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a bag of peanuts?"

"Yes."

"Are we sitting in the absolute best seats in Yankee Stadium?"

"Yes."

"Do we have to work tonight?"

"Thanks to an unexpected scheduling change, no."

"And the last time we both had the same day off was?"

"Certainly not in this century."

"So shut up and enjoy the game."

"But I don't actually have to shut up, right?"

"God, no." Dan took another swig of his beer. "You suck, Sanderson!"

The coach seemed to agree, as he trotted out to the mound to take Sanderson out of the game. The crowd jeered. Casey took another bite of his hot dog.

"I'm just saying that it might have been nice to be at a game where the home team won. To feel that spirit of solidarity as tens of thousands of people cheer in support of one goal."

Dan leaned in close, beer-scented breath sour and sweet across Casey's face. "Yeah, but after this, we go back to your place, and I alleviate your disappointment by fucking you senseless."

His arousal hit him like it always did, sudden and potent like nothing else he'd ever felt. He wanted nothing more than to reach over and maul Danny, but not only were they in public, there was a good chance that they could end up on the Jumbotron at any moment. "Aha," he managed to get out, as he felt his cheeks flush. "There is a method to your madness."

"Always." Danny smiled at him, and Casey knew that there was nothing better in the world.

"We could leave early."

Danny held up his arm to wave over the hot dog vendor. "Not a chance."


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