Chapter Text
Jess: We’re here! Nice seats - thanks!
Jack smiles at his phone and taps out a quick reply. No problem. Enjoy the game.
Jess: Can you go out after? Kel and Jerome are super excited to meet you! This is followed by a string of blushy emojis.
Jack grimaces. He doesn’t like going out after road games as a rule, but he hasn’t actually seen Jess in years. His mom wouldn’t forgive him if he was rude to her. Yeah, for a bit. We have practice tomorrow before we head to Anaheim, so not too late.
Jess: Sweet! Feel free to bring a couple of friends… [winky face]
“Eric?” Whits asks.
Jack shakes his head and goes back to strapping his shin guards on. “No, a daughter of one of my mom’s friends. She’s an actress here in LA. We used to play together when we were kids, but I haven’t seen her in years.”
“You gonna see her while you’re here?”
“Yeah, she’s here tonight, actually, with a couple of friends from that show she’s on.”
“Sweet. What show?”
Jack frowns, trying to remember. “It’s a Netflix show, I think. Something about fighting vampires in a post-apocalyptic world.”
“Whoa — is it The Dark?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Holy shit!” Whits’ brown eyes are wide. “I love that show, man! Who does she play?”
Jack shrugs. “The lead character, I’m pretty sure.”
“Oh my god, are you serious?” Whits looks like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. “And she’s at the game tonight?”
Jack picks up his phone and scrolls back through the texts to the selfie Jess took with her friends. She’s wearing Jack’s jersey, while the man and woman with her are wearing more generic Falconers shirts. He hands the phone to Whits, who actually gasps.
“Oh my god!” He turns to look at Jack again. “Can you introduce me to them after the game?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jack is aware that nearly everyone is listening in on this conversation now. “She wants to go out after, if you want to—”
“Fuck, yeah!” Whits says, nearly bouncing now.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Janssen asks.
Whits explains, and it’s clear most of the guys have no clue what he’s talking about. A handful of the younger guys do, though, and they’re all just as impressed as Whits that Jack knows Jessica Martinez from The Dark.
“God, she’s so hot,” Pashy says, staring down at Jack’s phone. “Remember the one where the vampires had her trapped in an old house and she like, staked ten of them all by herself?”
“Dude,” Bell says, punching his arm. “And they ripped off most of her clothes in the process.”
Jack can only shake his head in amusement. Even if he had the time to watch stuff like that, vampires aren’t really his thing. Still, he’s glad to know Jess is finding success as an actress.
Of course, that explains the reaction of the PR team when Jack had asked to get her tickets. They’d contacted her agent and coordinated some joint tweets and photos for Instagram.
Jess and her friends show up on the big screens a couple of times during the game that night, waving at the camera. Jess turns around once to show off Jack’s name on her jersey, and the home crowd boos. She laughs and winks, long dark hair tossed over her shoulder, and then the camera cuts away. Jack’s pretty sure that one was televised, and accompanied by a plug for her show.
The Falcs are down by two at the end of the first. They fight hard to tie it up in the second, but lose to the Kings by a single goal scored at the end of the third. It’s a frustrating loss this late in the season, when every point counts. They’ve only got a few more weeks to earn a spot in the playoffs, and they’re so, so close.
Jess: Tough loss! Still want to get a drink? I’d love to see you!
Jack bites his lip. She’s giving him an out, which he appreciates. He’d prefer to sulk in his hotel room after a loss like that, but it’s not just him now. Whits wants to go out too, and half the young guys want to tag along to meet her.
Sure. You have passes to come back, right? I’ll be about half an hour.
The three of them are waiting in the press area outside the visitors’ locker room when Jack finally comes out, a quarter of the team in tow. Jess squeals when she sees Jack, and rushes over to hug him. She’s tiny, even shorter than Bittle, and so thin she feels like she might break in his arms.
“Jess,” he says when she lets go of him again. “Look at you, all grown up.”
She smirks at him. “I was gonna say the same to you. When did you get all beefy?” She wraps both her hands around his bicep and grins. “Oh my god, I used to be taller than you!”
“When we were eight,” Jack retorts.
“Hey, let me introduce you.” Jess waves her friends over. Kelly is tall and willowy, and the ends of her short blonde hair are dyed pink. Jerome is dark-skinned, ridiculously handsome, and built like an underwear model. They both grin at Jack and shake his hand.
Jack gestures to the guys standing behind him. “Some of my teammates are fans.”
“It’s mutual,” Jerome says, with a glint in his eyes. “I don’t know much about hockey, but after tonight I think I might want to learn.”
Jack introduces Whits, Pashy, Zizka, Bell, and Marksy.
“You guys are really into the nicknames, huh?” Kelly asks, and they all laugh.
There’s some awkward exchanging of autographs after that, and they all ignore the photos being taken of them by the lingering press.
“So are we gonna go out?” Jess asks, and loops her arm through Jack’s. “I’ve got a car waiting and everything.”
“Okay, yeah. Whits is coming too, if that’s okay?”
“Okay by me,” Jerome says with a smirk. Whits smirks right back at him, and yeah, Jack already knows where this is going.
They spend an hour in a club not far from their hotel, sipping overpriced drinks. Jack and Whits aren’t dressed for a place like this, but it doesn’t seem to matter. At least they’re tucked back in a corner and people are ignoring them. Jack is happy to let Jess and her friends dominate the conversation with gossip and stories about life in the entertainment industry. Whits and Jerome eventually break off to have their own conversation, which seems to involve a lot of smiling and laughing.
“They’re getting along well,” Jess says, and drains her drink.
“Yeah,” Jack says, and tosses a balled up napkin at Whits to get his attention. “Hey, it’s getting late.”
Whits looks over at Jerome with a lascivious smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“What ever should we do?” Jerome replies, matching Whits’ smile perfectly.
Jack rolls his eyes.
“So,” Whits says the moment they get back to the hotel, and Jack groans.
“If you’re sexiling me—”
“Actually, I’m gonna get another room. I’ll swing by and get my stuff at some point.”
“Oh.” Jack is actually touched by Whits’ thoughtfulness. He glances over at where Jerome is talking with Kelly and Jess. “So, uh… your thing with Parse isn’t… I mean…” He winces. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
Whits chuckles. “No, it really isn’t. But since you asked.” He thumbs on his phone, scrolls, then shows Jack the screen: he’d taken a selfie with Jerome in the club and texted it to Parse. Parse’s reply is right underneath: several eggplant emojis, followed by a few flame emojis, and then the words DEETS TMRW.
“Huh.” Jack shakes his head. He doesn’t understand their relationship at all.
Whits grins at Jack and heads over to the registration desk.
“You gonna turn into a pumpkin?” Jess asks, elbowing him. “Or can we hang out in the bar a little bit more?”
Whits and Jerome head off together, and Jack sits at a table in the bar with Jess and Kelly. They spend another half-hour talking, reminiscing about their childhood and everything that’s happened in the last few years.
When Kelly excuses herself to the bathroom, Jess gets a conspiratorial look on her face. “So what do you think of Kel?”
“Uh,” Jack says. “What do you mean?”
“She’s been flirting with you all night! God, you’re so oblivious.”
“She has?”
“Duh. Seriously, she’d be up for it, if you want.”
“Oh.” Jack presses his lips together. “I’m seeing someone, actually.”
“You are?” Jess grins and leans a little closer. “Your Wikipedia page says you’re single.”
“For good reason,” Jack retorts.
“Yeah, I get that. Having your private life not be private anymore kinda sucks.”
Jack snorts. “You could say that.”
Kelly returns, and Jack sees Jess shake her head at her friend very slightly.
Kelly sighs, then scans the room. “So those guys over there, they’re on your team, right?”
Jack looks over to see Pashy and Zizka sitting at the bar. They glance over at Jack and the girls. “Yeah.”
“So…” Jess glances at Kelly, who smirks in response. “Think you could introduce us?”
Jack blinks at them both for a moment. “You’re serious?”
Kelly grins. “Fucking a hockey player is on the list.”
Jack laughs. It’s hardly the first time he’s heard someone express that particular sentiment, but still.
Kelly looks over at Pashy and Zizka, and wiggles her fingers in a little wave. Pashy actually drops his drink in his lap in shock.
Kelly giggles. “Aw, he’s kinda cute.”
“He… what?” Cute is not a word Jack can imagine applying to Pashy under any circumstances.
“He looks like he’s got a smokin’ bod, anyway.” She turns to Jess. “You in?”
“How old are they?” Jess asks.
“Nineteen, I think.”
“Aw, they’re practically babies!” Kelly says.
“Girl, you’re twenty-three.” Jess rolls her eyes.
“Oh my god, there is a huge diff between nineteen and twenty-three.”
Jack’s still trying to wrap his head around the idea that Kelly thinks Pashy is cute. “Zizka might be twenty. He’s Russian, by the way.”
“I do love an accent,” Jess says with a grin. “All right. Hook us up.”
Jack shakes his head incredulously, but he waves Pashy and Zizka over. They turn and look behind them to make sure he isn’t waving at someone else before they get up. Pashy pauses to wipe desperately at his wet pants with a tiny napkin. It’s utterly pathetic.
“Aw, look at that sweet boy,” Kelly says. “I’m gonna rock his world.”
At this point, Jack is pretty sure LA is on a completely different planet. He gets up and meets Pashy and Zizka halfway.
“Look,” he tells them, and has to pause to think about how to say this. “The blonde is Kelly, and the other one, Jess, is my cousin.” She’s not actually his cousin, but their mothers have always been so close that Jack thinks of her as one. “For some reason they’re interested in the two of you. So be nice to them.” He pauses to level a warning glare at both of them. “If they don’t have a good time, I’ll hear about it, and I will not be happy. You understand me?”
Pashy and Zizka stare back at him with wide eyes. They both nod.
Jack grits his teeth. “You have condoms?”
“Ah… yeah,” Zizka says. His face flushes. Pashy looks stunned.
“Come on, then,” Jack says, and nods at the table behind him.
He introduces them to the girls, then says goodnight. Jess gives him a warm hug.
“Wait, I almost forgot!” She pulls out her phone. “I promised my mom a picture. Come here.” Jack has to stoop down to get in the selfie, and Jess squeals at the result. “Ahhh so cute! Mind if I post it?”
“No problem. And tell your mom I said hi.”
“I will.” She gives him another hug and kisses his cheek. “You should come hang with me this summer, ‘kay? I promise I won’t make you play Barbies this time.”
He winks. “I didn’t actually mind, you know.”
He leaves the four of them at the table and heads up to his own empty room. He wishes he could call Bittle, though it’s the middle of the night there. Tomorrow is going to be crazy: strategy meetings, team lunch, a short afternoon to rest before a late check-out, then getting on the bus to head to Anaheim for the game.
Back-to-backs were the norm in the NCAA, but at this level he’s finding he really needs more than 24 hours between games. They have a red-eye flight home tomorrow night, which means he’s not going to get much sleep. It’s probably going to be Monday before he can actually talk to Bittle again. Jack sighs into his pillow.
*****
It’s almost noon before Jack wakes up on Monday, after a hard-earned win in Anaheim and a bumpy transcon flight back to Providence. He’s pretty sure it was a bad idea to drive home from the airport in his state of exhaustion, but they made it. He only barely managed to get his clothes off before collapsing into his bed.
He has nowhere to be today, no obligations until tomorrow afternoon’s practice. He’s going to get a good workout in this afternoon and start reviewing video on the Rangers. He might even head over to the practice rink, if he can snag some ice time. He needs to be better on his starts than he has been lately; even a fraction of a second could give him an edge in the next few games. He turns on the shower and makes a mental note to talk to the skating coach about it.
After his shower, he settles on the couch with a protein shake and a cup of coffee, and picks up his phone. He’d been so tired last night he never even turned it back on after the flight. He sets it on the coffee table and reaches for the remote, turns the television on.
His phone buzzes, the sound unusually loud as it vibrates against the table. It buzzes again, and again, and again. He glances at the screen: texts and alerts are coming in so quickly he can’t even read them. His phone was off for a while, though, so it’ll take a minute to catch up. He sits back again and flips through channels.
His phone keeps buzzing.
Jack finally frowns and sits up, and swipes across the screen. He has 137 new text messages. With more than a little trepidation, he opens the texting app. He sees the most recent message first:
Lardo: Bro, srsly. Fucking CALL HIM.
Jack stares at the screen in shock. What the fuck did he do? He scrolls back through Lardo’s texts, then switches to the SMH group chat. Most of the texts are of the Jack you dawg variety, with a lot of chirping and winky faces. Bittle is conspicuously absent. It takes a solid minute to figure out what they’re talking about. Nursey had posted a link to TMZ in the chat, which seems to have started the whole thing.
Jack usually ignores media mentions of himself. They’re frequently sensationalist, usually wrong, and never fun to read. But in this case, whatever it is has apparently upset Bittle, so he should probably take a look. He closes his eyes, grits his teeth, and clicks on the link.
NHL Hottie Jack Zimmermann Gets Cozy with Jessica Martinez of Netflix’s ‘The Dark’
“Oh my god,” Jack says — aloud, even though there’s no one else there.
The star forward of the NHL’s Providence Falconers is notoriously mum about his private life. But the 26-year-old son of hockey legend Robert “Bad Bob” Zimmermann was spotted late Saturday night cozying up to Netflix’s current It Girl, Jessica Martinez. Sources say Martinez and Zimmermann have known each other for years, since Martinez’s parents are family friends.
Martinez attended the Falconers’ game against the LA Kings on Saturday night, wearing Zimmermann’s jersey. The pair were seen embracing after the game, then hit the town with Martinez’s co-stars Kelly Fiero and Jerome Smith, and one of Zimmermann’s teammates, Taylor Whitton. Whitton and Zimmermann are the Falconers’ dynamic duo; rumors about the nature of their close friendship have been circling for months now.
After drinks at the trendy Hot Spot bar on South Main — where Zimmermann and Martinez were reported to be very cozy — the group returned to the JW Marriott. Martinez was seen leaving early Sunday morning, and she was definitely doing a walk of shame. Check out the huge hickey just visible under her shirt collar in the photo below.
Jack stops reading after that, his attention caught by the photos. They’re all innocent enough, but put together with this text, it looks fairly incriminating. There are photos of them embracing after the game, hazy photos of them smiling at each other in the bar, and the selfie of the two of them that Jess had posted to Instagram. The worst, though, is the shot of Jess climbing into a taxi in front of the hotel in the bright light of morning. She looks fairly rumpled, and she’s got the jersey with Jack’s name and number over her arm.
He’s not an idiot, of course — he knows how it looks. But still, it’s so ridiculous that anyone would think he and Jess—
A spike of panic rises in Jack’s throat. Does Bittle think that? Jack can’t imagine he would, but he hasn’t texted Jack at all today, and didn’t participate in the group chat.
Jack scrolls back through the texts to make sure, but there’s nothing from Bittle since after the game last night. He taps out a quick text to him: Hey, just turned my phone back on and saw all this. You okay?
He stares at the screen, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Nothing does though. He looks through his messages again. Even the Falcs’ group text seems to have picked up the story.
Bell: [laughing emoji]
Bell: Pashy finally gets some and Zimms gets credit for it?
Pashkin: No I was with the other girl
Pashkin: Zizka hooked up with Zimms’ cousin
Sandborn: TMZ thinks Zimms hooked up with his cousin? Fuuuuuuuuck
Bell: You two are roomies right?
Bell: Wasn’t it hard to tell who was who in the dark? [smirky face]
Pashkin: not really
Zizka: HAHAHA
Zizka: I think I’m touching girl’s ass but might have been Pashy’s ;))))))))
Pashkin: we should NOT have let them push the beds together
Sandborn: [shocked face]
Bell: [laughing emoji]
Bell: holy shit did u touch each others dicks???
Pashkin: NO
Bell: omfg u did didnt you?
Pashkin: fuck you Bell
Zizka: [laughing emoji]
Zizka: was very dark
Zizka: [eggplant]
Pashkin: stfu Ziz
Zizka and Pashy had shown up to the arena on Sunday grinning like idiots, and it hadn’t taken much for the guys to get the story out of them. At least his teammates know better than to buy what TMZ is selling. Considering that, there’s no way Bittle would think—
He reads Lardo’s texts again, and his stomach drops.
Shit.
He opens his contacts and hits Bittle’s number. It goes straight to voicemail.
“Hey, Bits,” Jack says, closing his eyes. “Call me when you get this, okay? Love you.”
He ends the call and stares down at his phone. Should he have said something about the TMZ article? Would that make Bittle more or less pissed at him? He has no idea.
His phone remains frustratingly silent for another full minute. He clenches and unclenches his fists, presses his hands over his eyes, and breathes.
Fuck it, he can’t just sit here.
He puts on his shoes and grabs his keys and his wallet, and heads out the door.
The drive to Samwell is excruciating. He tries to call Bittle a few more times, leaving increasingly desperate voice messages. He finally makes himself leave the phone alone for the rest of the drive.
He has to circle a few times before he finally finds a place to park a few blocks from the Haus. He jogs to the door and doesn’t even bother knocking before he opens it and walks straight in.
“Yo, Rans, you back early?” Holster says, walking out of the kitchen. He sees Jack and freezes, eyes wide.
“Is Bittle here?” Jack asks. He’s still trying to catch his breath and he’s sure he looks like a nervous wreck.
Holster expression closes off. “He’s in class, I think.”
“Okay, fine, I’ll… I’ll wait.” Jack looks around the room wildly. Should he wait in the kitchen or sit out here? Or maybe he should go upstairs, or—
“Why?” Holster asks, the tone of his voice sharp.
Jack turns to look at him. “I need to talk to him.”
Holster makes a sound that is almost like disgust, then crosses to stand in front of Jack. “Maybe you should stay the fuck away from him for a while.”
Jack clenches his jaw. “Maybe you should fuck off and mind your own business.”
Holster’s eyes narrow. “Jesus Christ, Jack. Do you really not know?”
“Know what?”
“Bitty’s had a crush on you for ages, okay? And you’re always calling him and hanging around, and it’s fucking mean.”
“Mean,” Jack repeats, still staring up at him.
“He hasn’t gone on a date in months, did you know that? He hasn’t even hooked up.”
Jack presses his hands over his face and groans. “Holster—”
“You should’ve seen his face this morning when that story hit.”
Jack’s heart sinks in his chest. He drops his hands. “Shit.”
Holster shakes his head in disgust. “Seriously, dude, you could have anyone you want. And clearly, you’re getting some, so why do you need to keep stringing him along like that, when we both know it’s never gonna happen? Do you, like, get off on it or something?”
Jack has to resist the sudden urge to scream. “Holster, I just need to—”
“No, you fucking listen to me!” Holster steps forward, in Jack’s face now. “No one else has the balls to say this to you, so I will. You need to leave him the fuck alone for a while. Let him get over you and move on.” Holster’s expression is fierce.
Even through the haze of his panic, Jack gets it: Holster likes Bittle, feels protective for his teammate and friend. Jack appreciates that Holster has Bittle’s back here, even though he’s so, so wrong. He doesn’t know how to say any of that, though.
Instead, he says, “You don’t understand.”
“What the fuck is there to understand?”
“Jack?”
They both turn to see Bittle standing in the open doorway. He has his backpack slung over one shoulder, and his expression is a mix of apprehension and exhaustion.
“Bitty,” Jack says, turning toward him. He wants to close the distance between them so badly, to wrap his arms around Bittle and hold him close, but he can’t, not here. Not anywhere, actually, and it’s fucking killing him. He stares back at Bittle and tries as hard as he can to let it all show on his face.
Bittle sighs and turns to Holster. “Is anyone else here?”
“No, just me.”
Bittle nods. “I need to talk to Jack. In private. Do you think you could…?”
“Bitty, come on.” Holster’s expression is pure frustration. “You know how he—”
“Please, just… please.” Bittle drops his backpack to the floor and sighs.
Holster seems to deflate. “Fine.” He glares at Jack meaningfully, then turns toward the stairs.
“Let’s go in the kitchen,” Bittle says, watching Holster walk up the stairs.
Jack nods, and tries not to think about what it means that they aren’t having this conversation in Bittle’s room. He turns and walks toward the kitchen, Bittle following.
Once the door closes behind them, Bittle sighs. “Jack—”
“Bitty, I didn’t sleep with her, I swear. You have to know I wouldn’t—”
“Jack, honey, stop.” Bittle crosses to Jack and wraps his arms around him, buries his face in Jack’s shoulder.
Jack pulls Bittle tightly against him, his emotions still swirling. He tucks his nose into Bittle’s hair and focuses on breathing. They stay like that for nearly a minute.
“I tried to text you and call you, but—”
“I turned my phone off.” Bittle’s voice is slightly muffled against Jack’s shirt. “God, it was awful. They would not shut up about it, and it was making me crazy.”
Jack closes his eyes, kisses Bittle’s temple. “So wait — you’re not mad at me?”
“Sweetheart…” Bittle sighs and looks up at him. “You told me you were probably going to see her, that she was like a cousin to you. Just because TMZ got the wrong idea, you think I’d believe them over you?”
“Lardo texted me that you were upset. When I couldn’t get in touch with you, I freaked out. I’m sorry.” Jack tries to take calming breaths, but his emotions are raw now, so close to the surface that he can barely keep them under control.
Bittle’s hands smooth over his back. “Jack, honey — I know you. I didn’t think for a second that it was true.” He hesitates, winces a little. “Okay, maybe I had about three seconds of panic about it. She was really hot, and the pictures really made it look like something happened.”
“She hooked with with Zizka, actually. And her friend Kelly hooked up with Pashy, believe it or not.”
Bittle’s eyes widen. “Pashy had sex with Kelly Fiero? Pashy?”
“I know, right?” Jack shakes his head. “And Whits apparently had a very interesting night with the guy from the show.”
“Jerome Smith?” Bittle gasps. “Oh my god, he’s so hot! Are you serious?”
Jack finally feels relaxed enough to smile, just a little. “He spent half an hour Skyping Parse about it on Sunday while I was trying to take a nap. I know more about that guy’s dick that I ever wanted to.”
Bittle gapes at him.
“So you really aren’t mad at me?” Jack asks again, cradling Bittle’s face in his hands.
“No, honey.” Bittle goes up on his toes to kiss Jack, and they stay there for a moment, mouths pressed together, breathing the same air. Bittle pulls away. “But…”
Jack swallows and takes Bittle’s hands in his, and waits.
“God, it was awful. The guys would not shut up about it. They read the whole thing out loud over breakfast, and then they were looking up pictures of her and talking about how hot she was, and… well, you can guess where it went from there.” He takes a deep breath and releases it. “Lardo yelled at them all and said they were being sexist asshats, and that shut them up a little, but… Lord, I wanted to tell them all that I knew for a fact it wasn’t true. But I can’t. I mean, what was I gonna say, that I know exactly what you do with your dick?”
Jack squeezes Bittle’s fingers.
“They wouldn’t have said any of it if they knew, but—”
“They don’t,” Jack finishes.
Bittle looks down. “I just… I know this is how it has to be, and I know it isn’t forever, but… god.” He presses his forehead against Jack’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I turned my phone off. I just couldn’t take it anymore.” His voice sounds constricted on the last few words.
“Oh, Bits,” Jack whispers against his hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know.” Bittle sounds choked up now.
Jack closes his eyes against the wave of guilt washing over him. “Holster gave me so much shit when I got here. He thinks you have a hopeless crush and I’m just cruelly leading you on.”
“Yeah.” Bittle sighs and looks up. “He gives me a lot of shit about it too. Sometimes I think it would be better if…”
Jack presses his lips together. “If we told him?”
Bittle shrugs. “It’d make some things a lot easier. But it’s not like we could tell Holster and not Ransom, and the two of them together couldn’t keep a secret like that from the rest of the team.”
Jack inhales, exhales, considering. “So… what if we told the team? Or at least, the people you live with.”
Bittle stares at him. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” Jack swallows down the anxiety rising in his throat. “I’ve been thinking about coming out to some more of the guys on my team, maybe telling them about you. The guys here would probably take it better than some of my teammates. And then you wouldn’t have to deal with it alone.”
Bittle makes a sound almost like a laugh. “Good lord, Jack, don’t tempt me like this. I promise I can deal with it a little longer.”
“It’s not just for you. It’d be nice to be able to come here and not have to pretend we’re just friends.” There aren’t many places where he can openly be with Bittle, but the Haus seems like it should be one of them.
Bittle hesitates, licks his lips. “Are you sure? Because you don’t—”
“I’m sure.” Jack leans forward and kisses him. “Starting now.”
“Oh my god.” Bittle lunges up to kiss him more deeply. When he pulls away, his smile is brilliant. “Okay, so… how do you want to do this?”
“It’s Monday. Do you still do pancakes for dinner on Mondays?”
“Yeah.”
“So I’ll stay for dinner. We can tell them tonight.”
Bittle grins. “Rather than telling them, we could just, you know…” He hops up on the kitchen counter and curls a finger in invitation.
Jack steps between his thighs and leans in to kiss him. “Your plan involves making out in the kitchen?”
“Yep.” Bittle pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the time. “Should just be another few minutes.”
It’s a fucking fantastic few minutes. They’re both too full of nervous energy for it to go much further than kissing, but it’s grounding, reassuring in a way that always amazes Jack.
They both jump when they hear the front door open.
“You’re sure?” Bittle whispers against Jack’s lips.
Jack nods and kisses him again.
“Hey, Bitty, are you— oh my god.”
Jack laughs into Bittle’s shoulder, then turns to see Chowder staring at them, his face bright red. “Hey, Chowder.”
“Jack, ah… hi. I didn’t mean to… uh… I’ll just—”
“Sorry, Chowder, I totally lost track of time,” Bittle says. He looks down at Jack, his cheeks flushed. “Chowder and Dex and Nursey have a really long day on Mondays, so we always have coffee and pie when they get out of class.” He reaches out to brush the hair off Jack’s forehead. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Jack takes a step back. “Can I help?”
“You make coffee,” Bittle says, hopping down off the counter. “You wanna get the plates, Chowder?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course.” Chowder’s face is still flushed, and he looks like he wants to say something more. He doesn’t though; he gets the plates, then forks, and pulls off sheets from the roll of paper towels to use as napkins. He keeps glancing over at Jack and Bitty, his expression intensely curious.
Nursey and Dex arrive a few minutes later, just as Bittle is slicing the chocolate cream pie he pulled out of the fridge.
“Jack!” Nursey says when he steps in the kitchen.
Dex runs into the back of him. “Jesus, Nursey, what are you — oh, Jack! What are you doing here?” They both stare at him.
“Visiting Bits,” Jack says, smiling. He looks over at Bittle, who gives him a fond look.
“Honey, you remember where the mugs are, right?”
“Unless you’ve rearranged the kitchen again.” Jack squeezes the back of Bittle’s neck, then goes to pull out five mugs. Nursey and Dex are still staring at him when he turns to set them on the table. “Should I get the cream and sugar too?”
“Yes, please.”
They all sit at the table with coffee and pie, Dex, Nursey, and Chowder on one side of the table, while Jack and Bittle sit on the other. Jack pulls his chair close to Bittle’s and slides an arm around the back.
“So how was lab?” Bittle asks. He leans into Jack and very obviously drops a hand on Jack’s thigh.
Dex and Nursey blink, and Chowder blushes all over again.
It’s fun watching them squirm. None of them say anything; they seem to be trying very hard to ignore what’s right in front of them.
“Well, my lab partner flaked on me again,” Nursey says.
Dex snorts and digs into his pie. “That’s because you were thinking with your dick when you asked her to be your partner.”
“Fuck you, man. I had a class with her last semester and she’s like, fucking brilliant, okay?”
“She’s also fucking hot.”
“Whatever, that wasn’t the reason.”
Jack has no idea how this conversation usually goes, but he sits back and listens. Nursey complains about the TA who runs the physics lab, and Dex mockingly tells him to chill, man, which only sets off more bickering. Chowder, as always, tries to mediate, to no avail.
God, he’s missed this.
Holster pops in the kitchen a few minutes later. He stops and stares at Jack and Bittle for a long moment. Jack smiles back at him coolly.
“Did you want some pie?” Bittle asks.
Holster shrugs. “Sure.” He sits on the other side of Bittle and stares openly at Jack.
Bittle starts to stand, but Jack squeezes his shoulder. “I’ve got it, Bits.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Bittle says, smiling up at him.
He brings Holster a cup of coffee and a slice of pie, then sits next to Bittle. He slides his hand into Bittle’s this time, intertwining their fingers. He knows Holster is the only one who can see it, and when he looks up, Holster is staring down at their joined hands. He glances up at Jack, eyebrows raised, then looks away again.
Ten minutes later, Ransom finally arrives. He comes in, takes one look at Jack and Bittle, and gapes. “Holy shit. How long has this been going on?”
Bittle laughs, and Jack says, “Months.”
That opens the floodgates. Everyone starts chattering at once.
“I walked in on them kissing,” Chowder says, hands pressed to his cheeks. “It was like when you catch your parents making out.”
“Dude, I didn’t even know you were gay,” Nursey says to Jack.
“He’s bi, actually,” Bittle replies, before Jack can even open his mouth.
“Sweet, bro,” Nursey says. “Me too.”
Dex rolls his eyes. “Oh god, here we go.”
“Just because I’ve been more into girls lately doesn’t make me not bi.”
“I didn’t say that.” Dex holds his hands up in protest.
“Yeah, but you were gonna.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Do I have to, like, make out with a dude in front of you for you to fucking accept my sexual orientation?”
Everyone at the table groans; apparently they hear this particular argument a lot.
Before it can get any further, though, the kitchen door opens and Lardo walks in. “Sup, assholes?”
“Did you know Bitty and Jack were dating?” Ransom asks her.
She looks over at where Jack has Bitty pulled into his lap to free up a chair for Rans. She shrugs. “Chyeah. For like, ages.”
“What?” Ransom turns to stare at her.
“Dude, they’ve fucked in Bitty’s room at least three times.”
Bittle makes a squeaking sound and buries his face in Jack’s neck. Jack can only smile and shrug in response.
“Sweet,” Ransom says, laughing.
“Wait, holy shit,” Holster says, turning to them with wide eyes. “Were you two together when you went to Nashville?”
“Yeah,” Jack says, and laughs. “I’m probably not the first guy to take his boyfriend to the All-Star Game, but—”
“So do the guys on your team know?” Dex asks.
“Just Whits for now.” And Kratz, of course, but Jack doesn’t want to get into that. “And, uh… this shouldn’t leave the Haus, okay?”
“Right, of course,” they all say, and Jack knows they mean it.
They all pitch in to clean up the kitchen, then go their separate ways for a few hours. Bittle has a lecture to go to, and he lends Jack his laptop so Jack can watch some of the game video for the week. Holster settles on the couch next to him and watches too, soaking up the details. Analyzing video at this level is a skill Jack has worked hard on this year.
He glances over at Holster. “Still thinking about putting yourself on the market as a UFA?”
Holster nods. “I applied to grad school too, got in a few places, but… this is kind of my only shot at the pros. Even if I just do a couple of seasons in the AHL, that’d be something.”
“You have an agent?”
“Yeah. And some scouts came looking at the end of the season. Minnesota, Ottawa, and Florida.”
Jack nods. “If you want to come to the Falcs’ development camp this year, let me know. I can put in a word.”
“Yeah, dude, that’d be amazing.” Holster turns to look at him. “Uh… look, sorry about earlier. The stuff about Bitty.”
Jack shrugs. “You didn’t know.”
“Yeah, but…” He winces. “The thing with the girl—”
“Didn’t happen,” Jack says with an exasperated sigh. “She hooked up with another guy on the team, but they had pictures of her with me from earlier, so—”
“Yeah, I figured,” Holster says, smirking a little. “I meant that we wouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it if we’d known. God, no wonder Bitty was so pissed at us all day.”
Jack hesitates a moment. “He told me you asked him out a few weeks ago.”
“Heh. Yeah.” Holster runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, I don’t usually lean that way, but Bitty’s pretty hot, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” Jack raises his eyebrows.
“And he seemed kinda lonely. It was worth a shot.” Holster shrugs.
Jack’s throat tightens at the thought of Bittle being so lonely on his own team. “Anyway, thanks for having his back.”
“Course, dude. Always.”
Jack nods and starts the video again.
A few of the frogs show up — James, Becks, and Fizzy — and they gape at Jack for a solid minute before he finally waves them over to the couch. The next half-hour turns into a video clinic of sorts. It’s fun, Jack realizes while he’s explaining how he breaks down video of goalies. He kind of misses this part of it, now that he’s just a player and not the captain anymore.
Bittle finally gets back, and winks at Jack before disappearing upstairs to drop off his bag. He comes back down a few minutes later and crosses over to stand behind Jack, peering at the video.
“Whose turn is it to help with pancakes tonight?”
“Oh, me, I think,” James says, pushing to his feet.
“I miss Pancake Mondays,” Jack says, leaning his head back to look up at Bittle.
“You’re always welcome, you know.” Bittle leans over to give him a lingering upside-down kiss, then snaps his fingers at James. “Pancakes, let’s go.” He disappears into the kitchen.
James and the other frogs stare at Jack in complete shock.
Holster looks up at James and frowns. “Dude. Pancakes. Go.”
“Uh, right,” James says, glancing around at the others. He heads to the kitchen.
Dex and Nursey call, “Pancaaaakes!” after him.
“So how do you know which way he’s gonna go with his glove again?” Dex asks, leaning closer to the screen.
Jack launches into the explanation. When he finishes and looks up, Becks is staring at him with an uncomfortable expression. When he sees Jack looking back, he quickly turns away, pressing his lips together. Jack glances at Fizzy, but he’s engaged in a lively discussion with Nursey now about shot blocking.
Every time Jack looks at Becks after that, through dinner and cleanup (which the frogs are responsible for), he finds Becks watching him or Bittle, always with the same expression of unease. Jack groans inwardly: he needs to handle this right now, before anything happens to make the tension worse.
He pops into the kitchen when the frogs are just finishing up. “Hey, Becks, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Becks’ eyes widen, and he drops the cup he was drying with a towel. Fortunately, it was plastic. “Uh, yeah, sure, man.” He fumbles for the cup and gives it another quick wipe, then puts it away.
James and Fizzy exchange a glance, then slap Becks on the shoulder and head out the kitchen door.
“So what’s up?” Becks hangs the drying towel on the bar above the sink and leans back against the counter. He seems to want to look anywhere but at Jack.
Great.
Jack takes a deep breath and puts on his most intimidating Captain expression. “Do you have a problem with me and Bitty being together?”
Becks looks up at him then, and Jack can actually see his face go a shade paler. “I — no! Of course not. I don’t — I — god, no.”
“Okay, fine,” Jack says, nodding. “It just seemed like maybe you did.”
“No, I — no.” Becks looks like he wants to dig a hole through the tile floor and escape. “Shit.”
“Okay, good.” Jack pauses, trying to decide how best to frame the issue. “So the thing is, we haven’t told many people yet. Just the guys here tonight, a few people on the Falcs’ staff, and our families. Right now we’re only telling the people we know we can trust to keep it a secret.” He looks at Becks meaningfully.
“Right, sure,” Becks says. “I’m not gonna say anything. I wouldn’t. I know how it is.” His eyes widen a little. “I mean, I’m not stupid, you know? I know you can’t really…” He waves a hand and winces.
“Right,” Jack replies. “Thanks.”
Becks shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away. “Is that it? I, uh… I have some homework to do.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Becks looks up at him once, nods, and dashes out of the kitchen. Jack leans back against the counter and sighs, scrubbing one hand over his face. That could have gone a lot better.
He gives himself a minute to calm down, then goes back out into the living room. Everyone is watching a pre-recorded Australian rules football game — Nursey’s current obsession, according to Bittle. Most of the guys are frowning at the television while Nursey explains the different types of checking in the game.
Dex sits in the armchair with his phone in hand, muttering, “Such a fucking hipster, I don’t even know sometimes.”
Becks, James, and Fizzy are gone.
Bittle is perched on the arm of the couch beside Ransom, staring at the television with an expression of confusion.
Jack stops behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I gotta head out.”
Bittle slides off the couch and into Jack’s arms, pressing his forehead into Jack’s neck. “I know.”
Jack tries to ignore the fact that everyone is watching them. “You’re coming on Wednesday, right?”
“Yeah. I’ll probably go straight to the arena. Tasha has some plans.”
“Dude, are they paying you for this?” Holster asks.
Bittle shrugs. “No, but I get to see the games for free and hang around with the staff.”
“You could do that anyway,” Jack reminds him. He’s started to become a little concerned the PR team is taking advantage of Bittle.
“Well, if they offered me a real job, I wouldn’t say no. But I’m having fun.” He gives Jack a look that means I’m not talking about this right now.
Jack leans in to kiss him. It’s a completely sweet, chaste sort of kiss, but the guys still whoop behind them.
“Get a rooooom,” Ransom says.
Jack holds up his middle finger without breaking the kiss, and everyone laughs.
“Come on,” Bittle says, tugging Jack toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Suuuure you will,” Ransom calls after them.
Bittle grins at him once they’re outside. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For tonight. God, it’s so nice to think I won’t have to lie anymore.”
“Yeah,” Jack says, and then frowns. “So Becks seemed a little weird about it.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Bittle presses his shoulder against Jack’s as they walk. “He’s never said anything to me, though, not even when Kevin was coming around. He was totally cool with me being gay, as far as I could tell.”
Jack considers. “Well, maybe his problem is with me, then.”
“Maybe he just had a weird day.”
Jack doubts that, but Bittle knows Becks a hell of a lot better than he does. It’s more than a little disheartening, though, that the only negative reaction to their relationship came from the one guy on the team who’s most likely to make it to the NHL in a few years. It doesn’t bode well for Jack telling his teammates.
He tries really hard not to think about that on the drive home.
*****