(actually on second thought i want this to be post-canon. why not. after the resonance cascade, g-man sort of puts things back to normal. gordon is not fully certain how to deal with this.)
It’s the Black Mesa Inter-Departmental Baseball Team! to improve morale, Black Mesa employees can sign up for the Big Game, and everybody gets together and has a great time! this year is gordon freeman’s first year participating, and he couldn’t be happier - he fucking loves baseball. gordon freeman is a huge fucking nerd and can recite rules and stats and historical players like nobody’s business, but he hasn’t actually played since he was in high school. and he was no great shakes at it even then. but who cares! his opponents here are largely scientists a few decades older than him, so he thinks he’s got a leg up on the competition.
Unfortunately, he didn’t bank on the large contingent of security guards that would be playing with them. and he especially didn’t bank on the one that keeps getting his attention - benrey, the short, stocky guard with a hell of a pitch. and a predilection for zoning out while he’s on the field. Gordon finds him to be equal parts fascinating and infuriating. in part this is because benrey barely seems to know the rules of the game - gordon finds himself backseat coaching more often than he likes, yelling at him when he commits one rules violation after another. but also, it’s in part because his pitching is out of this world, and, you know, so are his thighs and ass when he’s winding up.
not that gordon is paying attention to that. ha ha.
finally, it’s gordons turn up to bat. he’s been eyeing benrey’s game all day. and he suspects he’s got a rudimentary analysis of benrey’s pitches worked out (insert some details here). but all the data and analysis in the world cant save him from the way benrey raises his leg for the pitch and twists his body into a lithe, agile pitching form, wound up tight as a spring before he releases that tension all at once with a blistering fastball that blows gordons hair back. he cant do anything but blink. “ball!” calls the umpire.
and then it happens again. and again. gordon retreats to the dugout feeling dumber than he has in *years*. bubbys yelling at him for being such a colossal dipshit and not even paying attention to the game, and gordon doesnt have the strength to argue about it. he *is* a colossal dipshit. he needs to get his head in the game and off of benreys *thighs* or hes gonna be the laughingstock of the entire research division.
IMO pitching is the only thing that benreys really good at b/c he actually has to, like, Do It, as opposed to when hes out on the field and he just zones out and reacts 5 seconds too late to a ball flying past him
on the flip side he can just noclip and teleport and do god knows what else on the field so he oscillates between being functionally useless and being overpowered
nobody really knows what the fuck to do about it but it all kind of evens out into him being utterly average so they just shrug and let him keep playing
keeps things interesting and god knows bubby needs something interesting to keep him engaged with the game. hes out there shouting "HIT HIM IN THE HEAD" to the opposing pitcher whenever gordons up to bat, just for kicks
gordons supposed to be having fun, right, and ordinarily he would be. he *loves* baseball. but he cant get benrey out of his head, and when he cant do that, it means he also cant get, well, everything else out, either. all the weird feelings and the disconnect btwn having gone thru the resonance cascade just a few weeks ago and going “back to normal” now. sometimes his hand tingles weirdly when he feels the crack of the ball against his bat. sometimes he flinches at a ball coming his way, thinking its a grenade. hes trying really, really hard here, okay.
finally, the games over, and his team won, somehow, but it really doesnt feel like it. its the worst game of baseball hes ever been to or played, and hes kind of upset about that, b/c by all rights it shouldnt be. he got to play. he did alright, mostly. they *won*. he feels bad for feeling bad about it, b/c hes neurotic, and everybody can tell theres something Up with him, but he brushes it off. he doesnt wanna talk about it.
the locker rooms are communal, and both teams file in. benreys right across the benches from him, doing his thing without a care in the world. it doesnt even seem like hes noticed that hes lost. (he probably hasnt.) the two of them are among the last to head in - gordon b/c he spent an embarrassing amount of time staring up at the sky to sort out his thoughts, and benrey b/c, well, he was watching gordon, like a little weirdo.
before gordon goes to undress and shower, he decides to help put away all the gear and organize things and haul everybody elses uniforms to the laundry. benrey helps (or, well, “helps”). ordinarily, gordon would appreciate that, but he’s doing this to try to get his mind off things and benrey being helpful isnt actually helping in that regard. he makes a bitchy comment about why in the world benreys trying to “help” right now, and benreys kind of sulky about it.
finally, theyre alone in the locker rooms, and the suns starting to set and suffusing the locker room with a warm orange glow. the shadows are purpling in the recesses. gordons hands shake a little as he tries to untie his cleats, and he swears aloud. benrey comments on it. thats it. hes fucking had it.
gordons starting to get for-real pissed off b/c its not just about the game then, right, its about Everything that happened between them and now they just have to go back to normal and play baseball together like nothing happened and he ends up backing benrey up against the lockers while theyre arguing and does the fucking kabedon thing and benreys just like........haha thats kind of gay man
and hes also pissed off b/c benrey has no business looking that fucking good in a baseball uniform and hes having some severe Gay Frustration moments and that just slips out of his mouth while hes in the middle of bitching benrey out
i just really like the idea of gordon having no idea what benrey looks like when he doesnt have the bulky security guard vest and ill-fitting pants and the helmet on and being surprised by what he looks like in, like, anything else.
anyway. he does that. “if this isnt gay then why were you talkin’ about my ass, bro.” its only then that gordon realizes that, yes, he did admit that, and, yes, he’s *still* thinking about it. all the steam goes out of him in a heartbeat, leaving him deflated like an empty balloon. none of this shit was *really* benreys fault, after all. yes, some of it was, but its not his fault that hes stuck in this situation.
benrey gets a little uncomfortable at that. he pats gordons shoulder awkwardly and tells him that its cool to get mad sometimes. he probably should be a little mad. it sucks for benrey, too. he got hell of murdered and had to go back to work the very next day. theyre both in the same boat. and… maybe things didnt always have to be so shitty between them. theyve got a common enemy, so to speak.
when he deflates, his head droops, and hes closer to benrey than he expects afterward. *really* close. benrey cracks wise about it, like, as a joke, ha ha. thats when gordon decides, fuck it. he’s right here. benrey’s right there. and benrey’s just as game as he always is, although the nervous flush on his face and the way his eyes dart to the side makes gordon’s heart skip a beat. man. he really *could* do this. his lifes already gone to hell in a handbasket, so why not?
so he ducks his head and kisses benrey. it’s soft and they’re both so still, gordon from nerves, benrey from surprise. (he didnt actually expect gordon to go through with it.) and it’s… it’s nice. benrey’s lips are chapped, but his sharp intake of breath does things to gordon’s stomach. good things. when he pulls back, benrey’s starry-eyed and flushed and shocked out of his skin. so he does it again, just to make sure he really did like it. turns out he did.
benrey’s hands fumble their way to the back of his neck and tug him in closer, immediately making it filthier. their mouths open wider on each pass. benrey’s tongue slips into the equation, and gordon makes an embarrassing noise as his hand slides down from the locker to yank at benrey’s collar. he feels light-headed at the sudden realization that he’s *making out with benrey* right now. they’re making out, and benrey smells so strongly of sweat and red earth (and gordon’s sure he’s not much better off), and when he tests the waters by tracing the slick line of benrey’s tongue with his own, benrey groans into his mouth. it’s so painfully hot that gordon’s fists clench in benrey’s uniform. he shoves benrey back into the lockers with a clang.
then theres— *oh my god*. theres hands at his ass, squeezing and yanking him forward, and hes pressed flush against benrey with a suddenness that makes him gasp aloud. hes so hot, even through the uniform, hes like some kind of infernal engine. their thighs slot together neatly. gordon kisses him like his life fucking depends on it, frustration and want bubbling under his skin until hes just got his whole goddamn tongue buried as deep in benreys mouth as itll go. and benrey lets him, tilting his head back when gordons hands move to his jaw and guide him to do so.
theres something poking insistently at his thigh. gordon makes a Noise when he realizes that, oh, benreys hard. and thats his dick pressed up between them. his own dick twitches in his pants, which he comes to the conclusion are *way* too fucking tight. not just because of this, but b/c of the way they hugged benreys legs earlier, showing off their breadth and definition. giving gordon a fucking brain worm. he thinks about seeing them bent and raised, like in that pitchers stance, and boldness overcomes him. gordon drops a hand from benreys face to paw at benreys leg and coax him to raise it.
and he does, easily. benrey hooks his leg around the outside of gordons, rocking his hips forward as he does, and gordon squeezes the underside of his thigh to feel the muscle there. the sudden undulating pressure of benreys stomach against gordons dick makes his head spin. just to test the waters, gordon matches his movement, rutting slowly against the crease of benreys hip. those hands on his ass grip tighter. hes— he cant believe it— not an hour ago, he was infuriated with benrey, just boiling up at the sight of him picking his fucking nose out on the field (let alone the sight of him doing lunges to warm himself up for a pitch). and now hes tonguefucking benreys mouth in the locker rooms while benrey whines into his mouth in turn and bucks his hips in tight, jerky, ineffectual movements.
in between kisses, gordon pulls back to mutter awful, awful things at him, things like, “i was— i was losing my fucking *mind* out there, man. every time youd— god, when you were pitching, and your leg was raised up like this, i couldnt *think* straight.” he mumbles a few more delirious things about benreys thighs as his mouth drifts away to benreys jaw, then to his ear, and the way benrey shivers against him makes something dark and self-satisfied curl up in gordons belly.
im getting stuck on how to get to this next bit but benrey makes the absolutely filthy suggestion that gordon get better acquainted with his thighs if hes been thinkin about em so much, and this leads to benrey undoing his belt and shuffling his pants down just above his knees. and, oh, god, gordon feels his fucking mouth water. theyre soft but densely muscled underneath, dusted with black hair, and trembling ever so slightly from anticipation. and theyre fucking *big*, man. to say nothing of benreys dick, jutting out at full attention. should he be looking? should he be *touching*? should he be listening to the wild impulse in the back of his head that tells him to get down on his knees and press his lips to the soft crease where those thighs meet his hips?
he doesnt do any of these things. gordons frozen stiff from the paralysis of indecision. thats fine by benrey, though, b/c benrey has a different idea: hes intent on getting gordon to fuck his thighs. jesus *christ*. gordon watches through what feels like somebody elses eyes as benrey bends himself over one of the benches and presents himself for exactly that. gordons so fucking hard it hurts. he fumbles his belt open with shaky hands once his senses return to him and shoves his own pants down to his knees, too. fucking, yes, he wants to do that, thank you, hes agog at the curve of those thighs pressed together and the thin sheen of sweat on his skin.
his limbs tingle like theyre waking up from sleep as he lines himself up behind benrey. “i— shit, benrey, ive never— never done this kind of thing, do i just—” god, thats embarrassing, all his words spilling out in a rush, but benreys chiding about it isnt *that* mean-spirited, and he takes pity on gordons stupid ass and helps line him up. then gordon pushes himself between benreys thighs, and its— its not really like what hes used to, but benreys thighs are slick with sweat and dizzyingly soft on the inside and pressed together so fucking tight that gordon cant tamp down the ragged groan that slips out of him.
“shit— yeah, like that bro,” benrey gasps, his head falling. and when gordon gets his shit together enough to actually move, the noise benrey lets out shakes him to his core. gordon worms his hands under the shirt of benreys uniform, shoving it forward to better see his back, all densely muscled and gleaming, and he has the dizzying thought that those dimples on his back (what were they called, he thinks? dimples of venus? or something?) are really fucking cute. then he shakes himself. benreys not fucking cute. those sharp little sounds he makes after each thrust arent cute. hes— hes insufferable, is what he is.
but its hard to keep thinking that when his hips are slapping against benreys ass and benreys moaning like gordons actually for-real fucking him. and when he raises his hips higher in the air so gordon can get a better angle going. benreys hand slips down to tug himself off, and gordons hands clench so fucking tight into the soft flesh at his hips. god, he wishes, he wishes he *could* be fucking benrey for real, instead of this crude facsimile of the act, but the facsimile is still so fucking good he feels winded from it. then benrey groans “oh, shit, fuck me, gordon,” and something electric lances through gordons whole body.
“yeah, man, im gonna— gonna fuck you just like this. you want that? you— you like that?”
judging by the strangled sounds coming from benreys throat and the delirious string of words - mostly gordons name - spilling from his mouth, gordons gonna take that as a yes.
and then benrey spits out, “fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna, gonna come bro, c’mon, please,” and his hands moving *so* fucking fast underneath him and gordon can feel benreys whole body tense as he comes with a high shout.
oh christ. hes never gonna be able to forget *that*, is he. the sight and sound of it is so painfully arousing that gordon hunches over benreys back and fucks his thighs faster than hes probably ever done before and lets out lurid things about how hes going to plow benrey into the ground, just like this, fucking, gonna come in his ass and ruin him for everybody else, hes not even thinking about what hes saying, hes just opening his mouth and letting out unfiltered id, and then he presses his forehead against benreys shoulderblade and spills between his thighs, benreys name ragged and throaty on his lips.
and then they fucking shower and clean up and gordon has a dizzying homosexual realization while hes dissociating in the shower from how hard he just came and benrey fucking *winks* at him when he comes into work the next day and it makes his face burn like nothing else. the end
i also really like the idea of.......post-game aftercare.......tenderly bandaging up scrapes and wiping blood off faces and benrey looking at a bruise one of his pitches left behind on gordon when it went too far to the right and feeling a little shitty about it, but also, theres something bizarrely satisfying about seeing it still there a few days later......like, he put that there, and gordons laughing a little bashfully when ppl point it out and bragging about how he survived one of benreys monster pitches and it makes something funny curl up in benreys gut.......
extremely normal thought: do you think hed brag like that if you marked him up in a different way?