"Hey! Hey! Uncalled for!" Bucky shouts, cupping his mouth with his hands. He and Steve were at a little leagues' baseball team where their daughter Kori, only ten years old, was playing in the outfield. This was the first game they had made it to.

"That's a foul, ref, are you blind or something?" He hollers and Steve grabs his arm and drags him back into his seat.

Kori tries very hard not to look at them, sighing and scuffing the grass beneath her foot.

The rest of the gathered adults were whispering, some laughing, some agreeing and others disagreeing.

Bucky pouts as he's pulled back into his seat. He crosses his arms and Steve looks at him as the game continues.

"Really? You can't just be chill for five minutes?"

"I chilled for over eighty years. No, I cannot chill, especially when the referee can't tell right from wrong on field!" He yells the last part and Steve swats his arm.

"You're gonna get us in trouble," he hisses. Bucky huffs and leans forward, eyes glued on the game.

The teams become tied at eleven-eleven. Kori's team was up to bat, and Kori was third in line. When it was her turn, she stepped up to the plate and put on a brave face.

"You got this, sweetheart!" Bucky shouts, pumping his fist in the air for emphasis. Steve whoops and she looks over at them, smiles in an embarrassed manner, as in 'dads you're so embarrassing please do not' then raises the bat.

The opposing team was pitching, and the two boys share a glance before the pitcher whirls it and throws it hard, and curved. Kori swings and misses.

"Foul pitch! The munchkin put a spiral on the ball, c'mon!" Bucky yells, and a middle-aged woman with ashy blonde hair whirls around, quivering with rage.

"That munchkin is my little Chad! He's going to be a big-shot one day, much better than your girl," she shoots. Steve leans down closer to her.

"I'm sorry, my husband just gets very excited with this sort of stuff, we haven't seen one of her games before," he explains calmly and she pulls back, looking even more unsettled. She touches up her hair in a distracted manner, and Steve notices her eyes flick between him, Bucky and Kori, as she puts together that they're a homosexual couple with an adopted daughter.

"Your husband?" The disgust in her voice was clear. Kori misses another hit. The woman turns around to face front again, muttering under her breath, "Explains why she went into sports, with no mother figure to teach her right."

Steve still hears her, despite her attempt at privacy, and he frowns disapprovingly, leaning back in his seat.

"C'mon, baby, this is the one!" Bucky hollers. Steve leans over to him and whispers what the lady said in Bucky's ear.

The brunette glares a hole through her head and jumps up, energized with fury. "We believe in you, baby!" Steve gets up, too, and cheers with Bucky.

Kori concentrates hard, swings, and hits it. It wasn't a home run, but still, it went somewhere. In fact, she made it to first base before the ball was caught and the teams switched.

They didn't get another opportunity to  hit again, but Kori's team won by two points.

Bucky glares at the woman as they leave the bleachers to go see Kori.

She runs up to her dads, her frizzy black hair bouncing in the wind. Steve smiles and kneels down to hug her while Bucky ruffles her hair playfully.

"You did so good, sweetheart," Steve compliments and her small smile falters a little.

"Didn't win any home-runs though," she sulks.

"Well, you won't win every time, right? Hey, maybe we could practice in the yard, huh?" Bucky adds and she smiles again, bright and cheerful as usual.

"Okay." The three of them walk off, and Bucky feels someone staring at him. He takes a look around and his eyes land on the woman, sending them a dirty look, holding the hand of her little boy, who was watching his team, looking bored. Bucky shoots her a look as they walk off to their car.

"Helen, I love the quinoa salad you brought, you've got to get me that recipe," another woman comments, stepping up to her.

So, Helen. Bucky makes a mental note to give Helen a piece of his mind the next time they meet. He knew that wouldn't be the last of her... somehow, he knew.

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Wrote this at ten thirty at night, so let's pray that nighttime me knew what I was doing publishing this.