Check, Please WIP: Part 5-6
** 5
His utter and rightfully earned outrage at Betsy II being unplugged is through the roof. The Haus might as well just fall around their ears.
Any time now.
But, the Finish Your Fucking Thesis party sponsored by his team was literally his saving grace, and with all those texts and emails he’d sent to Jack over the last few weeks, he’s able to pull off a real nice effort.
Foxtrot checks it for citations. Nursey for his sources, Chowder for grammar and mechanics because sometimes he’s awful at things like that. Dex is standing there keeping everyone quiet when they’re in the living room so Bitty can concentrate.
Ollie and Wicks join him at the kitchen table with their laptops, making it a joint effort even though both of them have been done for ages.
Whiskey hangs around on the outskirts, talking to everyone, but staying out of the way.
Hops, River, and Louis are watching in utter horror at what’s lying in wait for them. All-in-all, it’s as much as the team as possible wandering around the first and second floor, floating in and out as Dex plugs Betsy II back in to have mercy on Bits when he literally needs pie to live.
(Dex bakes without even thinking about it now. He’s been fully converted.)
Jack and Kenny have started their playoff beards and special training sessions. The roadies are going to be brutal for the next month or so, and Bitty doesn’t bother them nearly as much as he wants. He gets Skype sessions, short and sweet, but still nice that they’re thinking of him.
And it’s all winding down now, the time when he’s going to need to pack his things and get ready to leave looming over his shoulders.
But training camp for the Rebels starts in September, and he’s going to need to find a place in Pawtucket before graduation, purchase a car, put the electric in his name, get settled before he starts this next step–
Lord, four years have already come and gone, and how it breaks his heart to have to go.
**
When he talks to Shitty, Shitty talks to Lardo, Lardo talks to Ransom, and Ransom talks to Holster. Holster talks to Chowder and Chowder talks to Dex and Nursey. Dex talks to the Waffles while taking down some study for your finals pie.
Before he knows it, there’s two cars full of people ready to ride down to Pawtucket and look at apartments with him so he doesn’t have to go it alone. He may have been teary-eyed about it, but held on to his dignity and made sure both cars had plenty of snacks.
He switched cars half-way through, not wanting to get in on the speculation of who would be next year’s captain with the Waffles and the Frogs. Besides, nothing against his boys, but this whole trip just reminds him he’s closer to Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster (and Jack) than his teammates.
**
It’s a two-story duplex, the realtor tells them while the Waffles are oohing and ahing over it, checking out the large master bath and quaint balcony. The kitchen is a dream and he can already see what color curtains he’d have for the windows. He takes pictures and selfies, imagines a nicer couch than that green one, and maybe a coffee theme for the dish towels. Closet is big enough for even his amazing wardrobe and a special place for his hockey gear. It has a nice guest room with an adjoining bath, comfortable kitchen big enough for a table, and a gas fireplace in the living room.
He listens to the realtor gossip on about the owners next door only coming for vacation one week a year or so, which means he’d be pretty much living without next door neighbors. That makes him a little lonely to think about, but the street past the fence is hustling with quaint local businesses he’s itching to explore. Lardo spotted the antique store before he did and they vowed to stop after this appointment.
He thinks about how close to the rink it is and what a nice neighborhood it seems to be. He thinks about how quaint it is and how excited he is to have furniture that doesn’t stink of incalculable kegsters.
After doing the math and still overwhelmed at how much he signed with the Rebels for, he shakes the lady’s hand and takes a copy of the renter’s agreement to complete and email back in a few days to get the process started. He makes a mental note to call around for utilities once he’s done with the last final he’ll ever have to take, and laughs at everyone cheering when he tells them this is the one.
“Haus 4.0! Fucking right, Bits! Have you even seen how great the tub is?! We’ll make tub juice for days!”
It’s about half an hour from Jack, so he’ll see everyone just as often. And that makes all of this a little easier to swallow. A little bit of change while everything almost stays the same.
Eric Bittle thinks this is one hell of a way to start.
** 6
Coach and Mama come up a few days before graduation. He gets them a nice hotel room to stay because Lord, he wouldn’t have them at the Haus.
They give him good advice and go with him to the bank so he can set up a money-market account for some of that big ole’ paycheck.
He takes them to look at the empty apartment with only a few of his boxes in the bedroom. He’d already picked out the furniture he wanted and it should be delivered in a week or so.
Mama cries and hugs him, telling him he’s so grown up now, her son graduating college. They go with him to look at a car, and he tells Coach with how bad the winters can get, he probably wants to stick with a truck.
He doesn’t get a newnew Chevrolet because his parents raised him to appreciate money, but he gets something that runs real fine, something oldnew.
They see Jack and give him big hugs, sit close to him during graduation.
And when Bitty is up there in front of everyone with Ollie and Wicks grinning at him, wearing their helmets too, he starts talking about what Samwell means to him, how it gave him the future, how it made him the person he is right now, how it gave something to everybody.
It’s not until then he can find the strength to look at the future as moving forward instead of moving on.
**
The crowd around him is massive and pictures all around. Ollie and Wicks pound him on the back, say they’re proud to be on his team this year, Bits, you did good. Mama gets a picture of Jack picking him right on up with Lardo and Shitty on one side, Ransom and Holster on the other, the Waffles and Frogs dressed up nice all around them.
He can tell Dex is going to be just fine because he reigns everyone in without thinking about it.
And unfortunately, he doesn’t get time like he did at Jack’s graduation. He only gets a few minutes pulled aside while Coach talks to the boys about next season, and Mama still calls Shitty “Mr. Crappy” while he rails on about Harvard.
But in those few minutes, Jack is smiling down at him all soft and gentle.
“I’m so proud of you, Bits,” low between them, Jack wrapping around him, and he feels so good and warm, smells so nice. “You’ve done so much. Such a good job, bud.”
“Thank-you, Jack. I probably wouldn’t have made it this far without you, you know.”
“Doubt it. You’re the kind of guy that’ll fight through the bad to get to the good, and you won’t give up until you get there.”
“Oh Jack,” Bitty sighs, squeezing Jack’s massive shoulders. His eyes get a little heavy and hot, but it’s better because Jack presses him tighter too.
**
Mama and Coach fly back to Georgia the day after graduation.
“Now I want you to call at least once a week, Dickie, especially when the furniture gets here and you can do that thing on Facebook where I can see the room–”
He smiles because he loves her so much. “It’s a video call on Facebook Messenger, Mother.”
“Yes, yes, whatever it is. And I am just dying to see how you fix it all up!”
“It’s going to be amazing.”
“I know, honey,” and she gives him another of those hard, close hugs only a mama can give, just enough not to squeeze your lungs out through your mouth. “I’m so proud of you, Dickie. So proud of you, baby.”
And dang it, Mama. Now he’s hugging back just as hard with tears in his eyes. “Thank-you, Ma’am. I love you, too.”
And Coach finally faces him when they’re all done being weepy willows together, and his Daddy is smiling under his mustache, and his eyes are all soft. They hug just as tight, Coach sighing against him.
“You done good things, and I’m right proud to say–” Daddy’s breath hitches, and here we go with the water works again “–that this man right here is my son. And when...when you bring your-your, uh?”
Daddy pulls him back just a minute, frowning in confusion. “Is it boyfriend? Partner? What do we call your man, Junior?”
Well, shut his mouth. “Boyfriend, Daddy.” And now he’s trying to wipe his eyes around the hug.
“Oh. Well, when you bring your...boyfriend on home, he’ll be welcome to stay–”
“In the guest room,” Mama hurries to break in, “he will be welcome to stay in the guest room. Isn’t that right, Richard?”
“Oh, well, you heard your mother, Junior. He’ll be welcome to stay in the guest room.”
Mama gives an encouraging nod.
“But, Mama!”
“Now Dickie when two people are-are involved but not married, it’s not proper–”
“Involved?!”
And if he doesn’t love them with every inch of his heart.
**
He’s at the Haus for another few days, waiting for his furniture to be delivered to his new apartment in Pawtucket. The Waffles are gone on home for the summer, and only Dex is staying but he’s gone home for a week to work on the family fishing boat. By then, Bitty will be gone, moved in. His room will be empty, but heck, Whiskey’s not even going to start moving in until August.
But, everyone else gave Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster leave to stay in their rooms to keep Bitty company while he packs the last of his things up. So really, it’s all come in this crazy kind of full circle, all of them out in the yard drinking beer, watching awful movies, sneaking in the rink for his very last time on the ice.
How crazy is it that Ransom and Holster bring their old jerseys, Shitty and Jack too. He’s not crying while they’re in Faber at dawn, messing around, living their best lives.
Lord, if it doesn’t make his heart ache in the best ways.
They go with him when he dons a kerchief and spends a few hours in his new place to clean it from top to bottom before the furniture gets there the next day. Ransom and Holster ride in the bed of the truck even though Bitty frets he might get pulled over.
Shitty and Lardo ride in the front with him and FaceTime Jack when they get close to Providence.
He’s washing down walls while Lardo goes to Target for a vacuum and other supplies he forgot. Ransom and Holster tackle the bathrooms, bemoaning how beautiful the tub is, Shitty checks the microwave, refrigerator, and oven, then generally keeps everyone company between things he finds to do.
Oh, there’s the electric panel. Thanks, Shitty.
The man is literally tightening screws in the overhead fans for goodness sake. Where did he even get a ladder?
Where did he get tools?
These are the same kind of mysteries that made the Haus what it was.
Jack comes up when they’re finishing up for the day, whistles when Shitty lets him in, and Bitty is covered in dust and dirt.
Jack laughs at him and wipes a smudge on his face with a thumb.
The housewarming gift he brought is a massive television, a flat screen that is literally bigger than Bitty is tall.
“Oh Jack, I can’t accept this,” he frets, looking over the box so big Jack had to put down his back seat just to get it in his SUV!
“Sure you can. I’ll be over to use it, too, eh? It’s for both of us.”
Which is when Bitty thinks of it still in his pocket, and reaches out for Jack’s sleeve to get his attention before the others come down to help heft this thing in the house.
“Bits?”
And there he is staring up at Jack’s blue, blue eyes, and the heart of him just warms right up when Jack is smiling at him like that.
This boy, now.
“Well, I just wanted you to have this–” and he opens his palm, an extra key right there, “–in case you ever need to get in, or you know, for emergencies.”
“Oh,” is soft, and Jack’s smile turns into a face-splitting grin. “I get a key to your place, Bits?”
“Well, I have a key to yours! And-and if you ever need anything or need to get in, you’ll already have it, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right, bud. Thanks,” and Jack’s fingers are warm when he takes the key out of Bitty’s hand, pulls out his ring to go ahead and put it right on, showing it off before putting his keys back in his pocket.
He’s still all smiles and sighs, “Bits, you know–”
Is interrupted when Shitty, Ransom, and Holster burst out his front door and see the massive dang thing they’re going to need to carry upstairs.
“Cable man is coming on Thursday,” he rambles on while the boys carry that big ole thing, “electricity, gas, and water are already on. Trash is set-up. Thank goodness this place has a gas stove, I swear I cannot cook for much on an electric at all.”
He orders pizza, and runs out long enough to pick-up enough beer and drinks since the place isn’t ready for pie making just yet. He’ll plan a better grocery store trip once the furniture is settled.
They sit on the floor eating pizza, watching some Spanish channel the boys were able to get somehow and talking about September when the training camp would start.
Like he expects, Jack is the one that directed the conversation there while Shitty is trying to get them to play flip cup on the counters.
“Parse is coming to visit next week,” Jack tells him to the side when everyone is totally bowing down to Lardo. “He wants to see you. I got a little ice time at the Falcs, so we can gang up on him.”
And while the one side of him hurts a little, the rest of him leaps when Jack says Kenny is coming to town.
“Oh no! Jack, this place won’t be ready in time!” He surveys with hands on his hips, already distressed with what Kenny will think. And oh, if he brings Kit, they’ll need a cat tree! And little dishes for food. He can get just a few cans at the big commercial grocery store close to the house, and goodness, he doesn’t even have a spare bed, just an inflatable mattress, and there’s no way he’s going to ask two Stanley Cup winners to share a worn-out blow up.
(Though they might like that idea anyway. Maybe he will offer it after all.
He is not going to think about offering them to share his bed with him.
Much.)
Jack ruffles his hair, big hand lingering on the back of his neck, “He doesn’t care about all that, Bits. He cares about seeing you.”
Bitty goes a little red in the face, but he can’t help be pleased as pie just hearing Jack say so.
“And he wants food, Jack. Do you think I rolled off the turnip truck yesterday? Hm, that might be a nice way to christen the kitchen though. My boys need their snacks.”
He doesn’t really think when he says it, instead imagines his kitchen utensils unpacked, making a plan on how to feed his people in thanks for helping him with all this growing up. It’s the least he can do.
(And doesn’t notice Jack’s brows raise and his face to split into a big smile.)
After some thought and a few rounds of flip cup, Bitty tells everyone they can go back to the Haus or whatnot, but he’s probably going to stay the night since the furniture is coming tomorrow anyway.
Ransom is appalled he’s going to sleep on the floor with a measly blanket and pillow by himself in his new place.
Jack mitigates by inviting everyone to stay the night in Providence instead so they can all be there to help with the furniture tomorrow anyhow. That and he’s got plenty of space for everybody.
“Oh! They’ll be people to move it in, so y’all won’t have to–!”
“More hands make less work,” Jack chirps shamelessly, “besides, you helped me get my place arranged. I owe you one.”
“We’re best friends, Jack! You don’t owe me a darn thing.”
“I could call Tater to come help. He’d do just about anything to make sure we keep getting Nook Pies.”
“For heaven’s sake, like I won’t still be sending pies.”
“And jam?”
“And jam.” He smacks Jack right on the chest, “You know your boys need to eat.”
*
Ransom and Holster get the living room pullout couches, Lardo and Shitty get the guest room. No one says a word when Jack steers him to the bedroom, puts too big shorts and t-shirt in Bitty’s hands, and points him at the shower.
It’s their luck Jack has an abundance of Falcs shirts for everyone. Lardo is adorable in Jack’s running shorts while their clothes wash.
When everyone is bleary, staring at the television, and the cleaning-up is done (because Bitty cannot sleep if there’s a mess in the kitchen, it goes against everything he’s ever been taught), Jack herds people to bed, still the captain, really. He gets Shitty up on his feet, pretty much carrying him down the hall with Lardo laughing like hell behind them. He tucks in Holster who’s already snoozing away, and gives Ransom a clap on the back for good-night.
Since he’d already grabbed Bitty’s extra toothbrush from the guest room bathroom, Bitty’s brushing away in Jack’s, eyes not even open. Jack’s hand on his back doesn’t even startle him, just lets his feet carry him to the bed where Jack flops the blankets over him.
He might hear Jack talking low in the bathroom while he brushes his teeth, but sometime later, he realizes the mattress dips as that bigger body climbs on in beside him. He doesn’t register that Jack's bed is much bigger than his little ole’ full, so they don’t have to be all squished together, just sighs in contentment when an arm comes around his waist and a chest presses into his back.
Then, he’s out like a light.
*
Jack is an absolute sadist that makes him get up God-awful early to run.
“Professional athlete now, Bits. Up n’ at ‘em, eh?”
Bitty notes that he doesn’t wake Shitty, Ransom, or Holster, just leaves them snoring away.
After they take turns in the shower, Bitty’s got breakfast on for everyone finally waking up, drinking his own coffee like it’s manna from heaven.
He talks about running down early to go grocery shopping and unpacking a box in the kitchen before the movers get there, and waves them all off when they want to make a run of it.
(Lord, he knows how they are in a supermarket. Taking all of them to WalMart is an all day trip.)
They can all fit in Jack’s SUV if Lardo sits in the middle in the back.
So he’s off in his oldnew truck, biting with excitement on shopping for his first ever apartment.
It probably takes longer than it should have, but he just needs so much.
He’s still in the middle of figuring out where he wants to put things when the group of them arrive, and it’s unpacking his kitchen supplies so he can make a pie and christen the kitchen as home.
(He’s thankful his Mama brought up a box of her old curtains, sheets, and other things he’s going to need. She is truly his hero.)
By the time the movers come with furniture for the living room and both bedrooms, the scent of apple and cinnamon is just perfect.
He’s laughing at Ransom and Holster treating the furniture arrangement like a crucial job, chirping back and forth, fiddles around to find the comforters he bought for the new beds and mattresses, starts the washing machine up to get them on so he’s got clean sheets.
He putters around putting the clothes he’s brought in bureau drawers, putting up his things on the walls while Jack meanders in and out to check on him.
The nice movers love the pie and thank him profusely for sending one with them.
*
Kenny is a sight for sore eyes.
Lord, he’s a pretty man.
Bitty drives him and Jack to the airport to pick Kenny on up in the oldnew truck, chomping at the bit to see him, already had a nice peach pie waiting, hopes he brought Kit this time. Jack laughs at him as he prattles on, happy as can be.
Kenny runs at them, already laughing, and launches himself at both of them. “Hey! There’s my guys!”
Bitty laughs with him and throws an arm around his waist, pulls Kenny in against him and Jack.
“C’mon! Get me out of here. I want to hear all about everything!”
Jack picks Kenny’s bag right off his shoulder, carries it while they wait at the luggage rack for the bigger suitcase and hockey bag. Bitty doesn’t mind a bit, wheeling one behind them while Kenny talks and talks between them.
He’s animated and happy, and Bitty’s happy seeing him like this, is happy seeing the gentle look on Jack’s face whenever he looks at Kenny. They’re just too much sometimes.
But, it’s lucky Bitty drove so he’s got things to occupy himself, putting down the tailgate, lifting up the bags in the back while Kenny grabs his bicep and whistles.
“Ooh, getting ready for camp, Bits?”
Kenny wants to see his new place (probably because he knows one Eric R. Bittle by now, and is fully aware there’s pie or other sweets somewhere), and hopes they can have some ice time before he has to go back to Las Vegas.
They pile in the truck, Kenny shuffling in the back seat so he and Jack aren’t squished. He leans on the seat while they talk about everything, miles eaten up under the tires. He doesn’t think Kenny’s been in Pawtucket, so he takes the route through town before they get to Bitty’s new place.
The pie on the counter is just a welcome. Still, Kenny makes grabby hands, snatching up the perfectly peach pie the minute Bitty tells him it’s all for him.
“Cookies are in the freezer, but those go back with you,” he makes coffee while Kenny snuggles up to that pie, and Jack chirps him down to the ground.
“Don’t judge me, Zimms. You get Bitty pie all the time!”
“Only in moderation, bud.”
“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
And there they go, bickering like an old married couple. He thinks it’s absolutely adorable, his heart giving little pitter-patters for them.
For lunch, he makes a simple chicken and rice, puts plates in front of his boys while they’re still talking and catching up, chirping one another good-naturedly, and Lord the UST is thick in the air.
He loves how Kenny takes the first bite, all distracted, and has to stop, look down at the plate and shove another bite in his mouth.
“This is great, B!”
“Why, thank-you, sugar pie. The recipe is on my vlog if you ever want to make it.” Bitty winks at him and takes a bite off his own plate.
“Vlog, huh?”
And they’re off and running about his baking and cooking, talking with him about the one where Jack and Tater were trying to make cookies, and the rest of the afternoon they spend watching some of his YouTube videos.
Kenny drops off the second video in, jet lag probably finally catching up to him.
Bitty turns the sound down and whisper-asks Jack if he can help out. Jack’s face gets a little pink, but he stands up by the sleeping captain, bends down to slide both arms around Kenny and lift him up easily like he’s not a full grown man.
The sight of Jack holding him up like that is soft and sweet, just like the expression on Jack’s face when he looks down at Kenny laying against him, just adorable while he snoozes away. It works like a charm, and Bitty’s smug as can be when he turns down the sheets in his bed since he doesn’t have a guest one yet, just the inflatable mattress, and helps Jack ease Kenny down, pulling his shoes off and tucking the blankets back over him.
He and Jack sneak back with an exchanged smile and tiptoe out.
*
Bitty gets to the dishes while Jack puts the leftovers in tupperwear, and sets one aside to take home since Bitty knows Jack loves his chicken and rice.
(“Jack, just follow the instructions on YouTube!”
“I do. It never tastes as good.”
“Well, for heaven's sake. I’ll make it for you whenever you want, you know that.”
“That’s what I want to hear, bud.”)
“You’ll have to take him back to your place to stay,” Bitty is saying apologetically, “the bed for the guest room won’t be here for another few week, and I’m not gonna let you or Kenny sleep on that awful air mattress.”
Jack starts to dry the dishes and put them away. “He’s had worse, Bits. Especially when we were in the Q. Air mattress or a couch won’t kill him.”
“Jaques Laurent Zimmermann. I am so disappointed in your hosting capabilities! Kenny is your friend.”
“Euh. Doesn’t mean he can’t sleep on your couch.”
“There’s no reason for that when you have a perfectly nice guest room and bed at your place.”
Jack pauses beside him, looks pointedly at him until he’s looking back, and the expression makes Bitty curious. It looks like Jack is strategizing, assessing, just like on the ice.
“You going to bed with me then, Eric?”
What?
He blinks up at Jack uncomprehendingly, trying not to think about how his name rolls out of Jack’s mouth like that when he also says going to bed with me.
It’s so much worse when Jack leans down closer, talking in a deeper voice that-that sounds awfully sinful, “If Kenny’s in the guest room, you’ll have to sleep with me. I can’t have you on the couch either. That wouldn’t be right.”
For a moment, the tension between them, the ones that makes Bitty’s cheeks get pink for no apparent reason, makes his eyes stray down to Jack’s mouth, further down to his hands, makes something low in Bitty’s stomach tight.
When he has to swallow, remembers Kenny is literally in his bedroom right now, he has to stop this utter nonsense. He’s trying to get them together after all.
“W-Well, it’s not different than all those times after you moved out of the Haus, or-or I can just stay here.” He takes the smallest of steps back, retreating, biting down on his lip to make himself turn away from Jack and hide his trembly hand in some dishwater.
Jack doesn’t move for a second too long, but when he finally does, the tension eases back, and it feels like Bitty can get a little less breathy when he’s less aware of how big and muscley Jack is, how his lower lip is pouty, how strong his hands are--
“Yeah, we’ll see how that goes when he wakes up.” just shrugs, back to putting plates away
“As long as it doesn’t include killing his back on a crappy, college air mattress, I’m sure he’ll be fine, sweetpea.”
He’s washing up the pan and doesn’t see Jack’s small smile.
*
He picks up his stick and an extra along with a ball after the dishes are done and waves Jack outside with a hand. He’s betting on hockey to help him clear out the remaining fog Jack managed to cause in his mind.
They take a little bit moving all over Bitty’s patio, slapping the ball into the side of the building, moving around each other for a while. Jack admits he has no idea what to do with Kenny other than take him out to eat or out on the ice.
Bitty keeps watching the ball for his turn, hitting it wide so Jack can use his ridiculously long arms to reach.
“Seriously, Jack? He loves movies, especially those sappy rom-coms, he loves dancing and museums, he like antique stores, animal shelters obviously–”
“I’m not getting a pet,” Jack deadpans.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t take him down to volunteer for the day,” Bitty counters. “But that silly movie he’s been wanting to see is out now, so you should make a plan to take him to see it.” And oh, Bitty is good because he can picture it now: Jack and Kenny in a dark theater, eating popcorn, laughing softly at one another. And then, half-way through the movie, Jack is going to do one of those silly stretches and lay his arm on the back of Kenny’s chair, and even before the movie ends, when it’s still dark in the theater, they’re going to have a moment where they look at each other and–
“Bits? Bitty?” Jack waves a hand in front of his face.
“Oh! Oh sorry,” and his face must be red, “I was just thinking about something. What did you say?”
Jack is tossing the ball up in the air now since he managed to catch it before it hit Bitty in the face. “I said why don’t you come with us to see a movie?”
Boy, don’t you know what I’m trying to do for you? Not a romantic bone in his body, I swear.
Bitty sighs and faces him, expression serious, “Jack,” he warningly waves a finger, “you and Kenny need to spend some quality time together. Now I know he’s got his team in Las Vegas and his life there, but he hasn’t seen you since the championship game! He’s probably missed the fire out of you!”
Jack’s eyebrows draw together, lips pursing like he’s trying to figure something out, and Bitty just sighs at him because he’s so hopeless. Honestly.
“You should make it a boy’s night out! Go see a movie, go out to eat, maybe dancing? Kenny loves to dance, you know. Show him a night on the town.” He gives Jack’s arm a few encouraging pats.
“Oh. You think he’d want to?”
“Well, sure! He’ll have you, won’t he?” And Bitty winks at him, trying to get the message across. He gets back on track, holding his stick again, “all right, Mister, let’s get on with it so you can go plan your d-...evening out.”
Jack doesn’t catch the almost slip, and obligingly leads Bitty away from the wall and to the patio where they can work. Off skates, Bitty’s still smaller with less reach and Jack is still a giant, but they manage to wrangle around and hit a few in the crappy goal Bitty’s got in the backyard.
They’re out long enough that Kenny wanders outside, the sun catching him in the perfect light, eyes still sleepy and hair mussed.
“What?” Is utterly outraged and adorable, “playing street hockey and you guys didn’t wake me?!”
“Aw now, don’t get all upset Sleeping Beauty,” Bitty chirps with a grin.
“I thought they called that the Walking Dead,” Jack’s robot voice, but he’s grinning from ear to ear.
Kenny’s offended gasp makes Bitty bust out in giggles.
“I’ll show you Walking Dead, Zimms!”
The laughing doesn’t stop until much later.
*
The Falcs Arena is bigger than Faber, and Bitty’s been there numerous times cheering Jack on, even skated here on family days, met the Falcs, and of course, brought Nook Pies. But today, he gets to come out on the ice, just his helmet, gloves, and stick to horse around a little bit. He’s got his name across his shoulders and takes a moment to think again about his last night at Faber with the team, kissing the ice and taking it all in. The memory makes him smile a little.
It’s insane to think he’s going to be on the ice with Jack and Kenny together, even with Tater since the big guy is already here, but, well. He’s got a new step to prepare for, his next move into the world of professional hockey, so he’d better start either start putting up or shutting up as Coach would say.
Jack and Kenny are talking up Tater on the bench, still lacing skates, so Bitty just takes off, getting in some warm-up laps to get his legs ready. He bends down, staying low, trying to get his speed on, cutting it close enough to skim the tips of his gloves over the ice. On a pass by, he gets a puck, skates backwards just a little bit of stick work while he’s moving.
He feels more than sees Kenny, turns it around so the Captain of the Aces can race with him. He wouldn’t admit how big he’s grinning when he passes the puck without looking, and Kenny just scoops it on up, gliding next to him, working it out to warm up a little, too.
He isn’t shocked when the puck is just suddenly in front of him, and he’s turning quick and easy, taking off down the rink, controlling the puck, keeping his speed, dodging both Tater and just barely missing Jack, but the head fake got him going the wrong way.
He’s not laughing.
Much.
His slapshot is good enough to take the question out of is he ready to play in the AHL? Thank-you very much.
His Samwell jersey flips and flutters when he swings it wide.
Kenny snatches him up stick and all, “damn, you are fast! I love it, B. Make me work for it.”
“Well, it’s the only thing I got going for me, sugar pie,” he grins back, laughing at those wide eyes.
Kenny arches an eyebrow at him behind the face mask. “Nah, that’s not all,” and sets him back on his skates.
Jack’s hollering for them while Bitty’s face gets red, and he moves to get the puck out of the net. “Looks like two-on-two,” Kenny is hollering back when they meet up at center ice. “I’m taking–”
“Me and Tater versus you two, right?” because Bitty (knows they need to do this, to be a team on the ice again, help them heal just a little more and move on from that awful game last year) is already giving Tater a glove bump, listening to his second favorite Falc talk about that video on his lamb and how good it turned out.
“Mwah, is masterpiece. So tender, very good, Itty Bitty.”
“Aw, honey. I’m so glad you didn’t burn it dry as the desert. Good job!”
But he does see the way Jack straightens on his skates, turns to Kenny, and the trepidation is right there. But then Kenny looks right on back, and the two of them seem to get it together, closing ranks.
(He is giving himself the best friend of the year award and no one is going to convince him otherwise.)
He grins at Tater, takes the big hand on his shoulder while he’s mentally patting his own self right on the back.
*
He has no idea how in the world it happened.
One minute he’s rushing Jack and Kenny with Tater right on his heels, sees the two of them move, the puck–
It’s a fancy side move when he’s able to slide right in between them and catch the puck on his way through, snapping it to Tater once he’s left Kenny and Jack in the dust.
It doesn’t hit him until he’s close to their goal and Tater passes, gives Bitty a chance to make a solid one right in the net. But when he pauses to realize what he just did, he turns to look at where the others are staring right back at him.
He literally just foiled the Parson-Zimmermann-no-look-one-timer. Dang it all to heck!
“Top Cheddar, bud,” Jack lays a glove on his head and winks, “putting on a show for the Rebels already?”
He laughs but it’s a little off. He’s pretty well shocked at himself, and kind of disgruntled he might have screwed up what could have been a nice moment for those two.
“Well, can’t let you boys have all the fun, now can I?”
It’s not until later when they’re all leaving Falc’s arena, chirping one another, that Eric R. Bittle has quite the realization.
“Goodness, no,” he’s waving Kenny away, tossing his bag in the back of the truck. “I’ve got to get some things done at the house. I’ve only been moved in for a week or so, you know. But, you two go right along and make a nice night of it.”
“But, B!” Kenny whines, arms coming around him, nuzzling into his neck, “I’m only here for a few days!”
And Bitty just pats him soothingly, looking at Jack with a grin at the antics of this boy.
“I know, sugar pie, and I will see you tomorrow with fresh goodies to take to your team. How does that sound?”
Kenny sighs, laying all over him, “sounds good, I guess.” But he pulls off petulant like a champ.
“Of course it does,” he soothes, “now you go on and get yourself all dolled up and make Jack take you some place nice.”
“Aww, Bits. What’s wrong with our usual place?”
“It’s a sports bar, honey, and Kenny is a classy fella.” The chirp is even better because Kenny puts a hand on the back of the truck and strikes a pose. “You two should go a little more upscale,” and he’s patting Jack’s arm, too. And this, Internet Land, is where planning and research come into play. He makes his voice nonchalant, “maybe something close to that Museum of Natural History? They have a planetarium, and there’s a neat show on tonight around ten.”
Because Eric Bittle might not be dating himself, but he sure as hell can plan one for his best friends. He’d already done the research, has about four more suggestions right on the tip of his tongue.
But just like he thought, Kenny straightens up, “there’s a Natural History museum? With a planetarium??”
Bitty gives no mind looking at Jack as smugly as he can possibly can.
And, well, Jack’s a softie at heart, not to mention the pleading look Kenny is giving him right now is downright criminal.
“Yeah, bud, that does sounds like a good time,” and oh do his eyes go soft when Kenny’s face lights up.
“All right! You two have a real nice evening ahead of you, and I have goodies to make and a video to plan.”
“Okay, Bits. I’ll text you.”
“Don’t make any videos without me, B. I want to be in the next one!”
His put-upon sigh should be loud enough to hear all the way down the street. “Lord, I already see a food fight happening because you two are nothing but trouble.”
“What?! Really??” And Kenny grabs on to Jack’s wrist, wiggling with energy, “Ja-ack! Bitty said we can have a food fight in his video!”
“Now you wait just a minute, Mister. My kitchen is not a hockey rink!”
He finally waves them off to Jack’s big SUV and pulls himself out of the parking lot, whistling at a job well done.
He thinks about how cute it is that Kenny is going to have the best time watching the show with Jack, looking up at the stars, his eyes all soft and gentle. He thinks about how good it is they all have a break for the summer so they can go down to Las Vegas before training camp starts, and he can be here with them as much as possible.
He thinks about how he’s going to make Swoops and Gopher their main favorites but might make Scrappy different kinds of macaroons this time.
He thinks about laying on Jack’s couch with both his boys curled around him, watching television or chirping each other when things get boring.
He thinks about how much them being happy, being able to be together means to him, and how much better it would be if all three of them could–could…
Oh.
Oh no.
“Never fall for a straight boy” used to haunt him. Looks like that’s going to change. But, “Never fall for your best friend’s boyfriend,” really doesn’t sound any better, now does it?
*
Sometimes when he’s having a crisis, he calls Shitty.
This time, he needs–
“Lardo,” he wails, utterly torn.
“Okay, Bits, okay, hold on,” he hears her muffled talking and then movement. Something squeaks and shifts, then she’s back. “I am all yours, Mr. Bittle. What’s the emergency?”
“I…” and his heart beats in the back of his mouth, “I think I’m falling for my secret crush’s boyfriend.”
It sounds utterly absurd because Jack is more than just a crush, always has been, but if he’s going to be able to talk about this with someone more sensible than he is when it comes to this kind of stuff, then he’s got to throw Lardo off the scent at least a little.
(If she ever found out it was Jack, he’d never live down the chirping. Not to even mention if she accidentally said something in front of Jack and-and. Just the thought of losing Jack, his friendship, his hugs, his smile, his hockey robot talk, late night calls because of “Anxiety Brain,” all of it, all things that are just Jack. All of that being gone from his life is enough to make his eyes hot and heavy.)
Lardo is silent for about five seconds.
“Since when does Jack have a boyfriend?”
“What? Who said it-it was Jack! I’ve gotten over all that, no. I said my secret crush. I’ve never told y’all because you’re awful people. I am only breaking my silence now because I am desperate. I need help.”
She makes a noise over the phone that might have been a squeak. “I mean, you’re not wrong. We are horrible people, and we enjoy it. I can also probably guarantee Shitty and I would have chirped you, but Ransom and Holster would have probably set up the date of your dreams, made plans for you to confess your undying love or something.”
“Lardo.”
“I’m very serious. But you have a secret crush? The last guy you were hung up on was Jack, and from what we saw, that really hasn’t changed. Now, I’m hearing there’s a new man, so you can’t blame me for being curious.”
He is absolutely not going to address her ‘from what we saw’ comment. Not. At. All. “W-Well, I finally got it through my head Jack doesn’t see me that way, and we are going to stay the best of friends. As it should be, you know?”
“Oh, Bitty,” and there’s her sympathy for his obvious dilemma, “it’s so cute you really think that. But, okay, I’ll leave it alone. Maybe Shitty will want to tackle that. Or, Ransom and Holster might want to make a PowerPoint– you know what, we’ll have a house meeting about it. Anyway, so there’s a new guy in your life. A potential crush, I might add, and you are pretty sure…?”
“I like his boyfriend.”
“Hm. So, you like him and his boyfriend?”
His voice catches in his throat, staring out at the back yard, biting down on his lip.
“Yeah, you do. You want to be the peanut butter and jelly between those pieces of bread, huh?”
It’s awful how once she said it, Eric Bittle can’t put the idea back in the box.
(His face goes red so fast he thinks he might pass out from the blood rushing to two places in his body at once.)
“No,” he whispers, “no, no, I would die. I would die of hotness. They would bury me with Betsy the first, Here Lies Eric Bittle, he burned alive because those two are scorching hot.”
“Whew, not just a crush, but a very hot crush.” She pauses again while Bitty is dying a very slow death in his nice, sunny kitchen. “Are you sure you’re not talking about Jack?”
“Jack is unbelievably hot, but no. Not Jack,” but his voice is thready and weak, he might be wheezing a little because to look up at Kenny grinning behind him and Jack in front of him…
“That sounds really hard, Bitty, I’m sorry.” And she sounds like it, good old Lardo. “But, you know what I’m going to tell you, right?”
He has to stop thinking about this. Right now or he’s going to embarrass himself.
Deep breath. Stop thinking about all the ways three people can have sex. That isn’t helping.
“You would tell me if the feelings are strong enough, go for it. Talk to them.”
“Indeedy-do. How strongly do you feel for this multi-person crush, Bitty?”
He thinks about Jack, about summer in Madison, and his name on the back of those shoulders, about car rides and cooking, about talking him down when it’s been a bad day or night and the pills don’t help enough, about standing beside him, beside them, about the Stanley Cup and snuggling in bed, of moving furniture and making his favorites when he makes for the team and–
“Not strongly enough to mess up what he’s got going,” pops right out of his mouth, but is really a revelation.
He can’t do anything to mess up what they have, what he’s watched them fight to get back. He can’t do that, and he won’t. He’s going to get this nonsense out of his head and try to be Team Pimms all the way.
He can do this for them.
Lardo sighs at him, “can you keep being their friend if you feel this way, Bitty? It’s going to be hard, you know?”
Well, it was hard with Jack for a while, too. It might be tough, but Bitty is tougher.
“It is,” he admits quietly, watching the birds drop down and dig for worms, “but, it’s not worth losing them, either.”
“Mmm. Figure it out, Bitty?”
And he has to take in a deep breath and close his eyes, steady himself. This is why he called Lardo instead of Shitty.
“Yeah, I did. Thanks, Lardo.”
He consoles himself a little with the fact he’s playing for the AHL might help pave a way for Jack and Kenny in the long run, so someday, maybe they can come out together. They won’t have to hide.
It’s nice to think that is something he can possibly do for them.
Bitty hangs up the phone feeling better. The pressure is still there in his chest and the images are still there in the back of his mind where he’s banished them, but the possibility of breaking what he has is enough to make them just nice thoughts.
And there’s no harm in that.
