A/N: a little ficlet in the Seasons Change 'verse that falls two years after the SC epilogue.

God help him, Kurt hates softball season.

It's not even really the sports part, not anymore. Kurt's spent enough time with his dad and Finn and Dave to at least understand most sports. He also knows that Dave needs sports in his life and really, softball is much less violent than rugby and a lot more entertaining than swimming. And there's the camaraderie with the guys on Dave's team and their families.

No, what Kurt hates is the fact that softball takes every summer Sunday from May until August, with the exceptions of Father's Day, Pride, and Fourth of July; what that really means is that Dave is up and out early, and Kurt ends up schlepping Abby and all of the accessories necessary to entertain a four year old for a couple of hours across town, through the parking lot and up the steep walkway that leads to the ball fields. On the good Sundays, Dave's team plays their two games back to back in the middle of the morning, which gets them home in time for Abby's nap and a little Daddy and Papa time. On the bad Sundays, there are a couple of hours between a morning game and a post-lunchtime one, which usually ends up with Kurt and Abby napping on a blanket under the bleachers, and Dave getting home hot, hungry, and grumpy.

The only thing that kind of makes up for it is the end-of-season barbeque.

They have a sitter, the high school girl across the street who watches Abby when Kurt and Dave have their weekly date night, and they have hours. They left Ciara and Abby with a stack of Maisy books, money for a pizza, and a Winnie the Pooh DVD for after bath time.

Dave takes Kurt's hand as they walk south on Ogden toward Colfax; it's so much easier to walk, it's only a few blocks, and Kurt knows that he and Dave both are going to have a few drinks. "You guys played well today. I can't believe those guys came out of the loser's bracket, though."

Dave shrugs. "Doesn't matter. I gave up wanting to win it all a long time ago. We came in second, and that's more than anyone thought we'd do this season. It's just fun, now. Derek doesn't think he's gonna play another season, though."

"Why not?"

Dave chuckles, low and deep in his throat. "Let's see . . . something about he's too old to keep playing a child's game. I don't think Connor likes the team."

"I think Connor doesn't like that you guys drink more beer than you play innings of softball," Kurt says, and leans into Dave's arm. His skin is hot and pink from two days in the relentless sun, and he's still in his dusty shorts and team t-shirt. "I'll try to talk some sense into him, if you want. Derek's the only one with the arm to pitch."

Dave wraps one arm around Kurt's shoulders. "We shouldn't meddle."

They pause at the corner, wait for the light to change, and dash across Colfax before turning west to walk down to Charlie's. Kurt can smell the barbeque already, and even though all he did was sit in the shade with Abby coloring in her American Girls coloring book while Dave played four back to back games of softball, he's starving. He wants a hamburger and a hot dog, a Jack and Coke, and once the awards and speeches and everything is done, a spin or five around the dance floor with his husband.

Kurt used to hate country music, but it's sort of everywhere, out here, so he taps the toe of his sneaker on the pavement while the line for food snakes around the patio. They eat standing up, wedged at a too-small table with two of Dave's teammates and their boyfriends. It reminds Kurt a little of the Orphan's Dinners when he was in college, shared experience and shared language. It feels good, being there.

They're just finishing up their dinner, and Kurt's thinking about a second Jack and Coke, when there's movement from behind him. "Mr. K?" a very young-sounding voice asks, surprisingly soft underneath the music pouring out from the bar.

Dave turns, and Kurt watches him work through the mental file he seems to keep of all his old students. Kurt's seen him do this before, at the supermarket and the library, at a Rockies game last spring, and two Christmases ago in the security line at DIA, but he never once thought he'd watch Dave do it at a gay bar with the rest of the gay and lesbian softball league.

Dave blinks, and nods. "Brian Garfield, Algebra I."

Brian smiles. "I wasn't sure if you'd remember."

Dave shrugs. "I remember all my kids, especially the ones who spent their lunch hours reading in my classroom. You don't play in the league, though, do you?"

Brian shakes his head, gestures with his shoulder to a table across the patio, where two guys in Charlie's jerseys are sitting with a third man with a military-short haircut and an Air Force t-shirt. "I have friends who play, and my boyfriend is in town for the weekend. When I saw you, I just wanted to say hi, and to thank you for all those books you kept in your room, and for that sticker you had. It meant a lot."

Kurt knows that anyone looking at Dave will think he's sunburned from the weekend, but Kurt knows his husband is blushing.

"You're welcome," Dave says, and pulls Brian into a hug.

"I should—" Brian stammers, and shuffles his feet. "I gotta—" His gaze drifts back over to his boyfriend, and Kurt smiles. He loves seeing people happy, and in love.

"Go," Dave says to him, gentle, and Brian takes off back across the patio.

"He seems sweet," Kurt says.

"Mmm," Dave nods. "He was a good kid. Quiet. He shouldn't be old enough to be drinking beer in a gay bar with an Air Force boyfriend, but I did have him my first year teaching, so."

Kurt knows what Dave is thinking, so he heads him off before his brain can wind itself in circles. "You're not old," he insists, and Dave waves a hand at him.

"Whatever," he mumbles, but he's smiling under his sarcasm.

Kurt knows, Dave loves the community of these things, too. He's relaxed and happy, and he'll give in and dance with Kurt later, and then maybe if they're not ready to go home they'll walk up to Liks for ice cream.

Ciara's staying till 10, and Dave doesn't go back to school for another week. It's a long walk, but they have time.