#bittyjackkent

Kent hadn’t had the best day so far.

All things considered, though, he was doing a pretty good job of holding it together. In fact, he was actually proud that he hadn’t snapped at his boyfriend at all despite his bad mood, because he was still feeling rational enough to know that he didn’t actually want to push Bitty away or do anything to make things worse. Instead, he was trying to ignore it and go about his daily routine as usual.

And sure, maybe it wasn’t the best thing in the world for Kent to push down all his feelings and frustrations, but Bitty had a tendency to pick up the moods of the people around him, and Kent didn’t want to make Bitty grumpy just because he had the misfortune of being both physically and emotionally close to a particularly pissy Kent Parson on what could otherwise be an entirely pleasant Friday night.

So Kent had texted Bitty during work and suggested a low-key dinner date, because enchiladas and a couple happy hour drinks from Cactus Cantina across the street from their apartment certainly couldn’t make things worse. All Kent knew was that the place was casual, the dessert menu was up to Bitty’s standards, and the drink selection rotated often enough to keep him happy, so it was a win for both of them, and they usually ended up there at least once a week.

And that’s what brought Kent to where he was currently, sipping a half-priced strawberry swirl margarita and pouting because his boyfriend wasn’t paying attention to him. This was particularly offensive to Kent since Bitty was busy looking over Kent’s shoulder at some hot guy who’d sat down on the other side of the room around when they’d arrived. The nerve of it all. Sure, Kent and Bitty had an open relationship, but that didn’t mean that Kent never got jealous-- especially when he was two margs in and in need of attention as he tried to tell an entertaining story about Jenna from Marketing.

Bitty rested his chin on his hands and made heart eyes in the hot guy’s direction again, and Kent finally gave up and sighed as loudly as he could get away with in public. “Come on,” he said, sounding only slightly whinier than he’d intended. “Is this guy really that hot? You’ve been staring at him for ten minutes.”

He began to turn, but Bitty darted his hands out and grabbed the collar of Kent’s shirt to keep him from doing it. “I swear to god, Kent. Do not look at him right now. It’d be so obvious that we’re staring.”

Kent threw his hands in the air. “Alright, alright! I’m not looking, okay? You can describe him to me.” He stared in front of himself instead, at the turquoise accent wall and exposed brick and generic cactus-themed decor. “See, not looking, so paint me a damn picture. But make it a sexy picture, at least.”

Bitty leveled Kent with a stare. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but he did take another good look over Kent’s shoulder. “He’s got gorgeous blue eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass. Honestly, he looks familiar. I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

“What kind of familiar?”

“Like, B-list reality TV star famous. Or maybe some kind of modeling? He has the bone structure for it. He’s easily the hottest person here, other than us, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Kent repeated. “And he’s seriously been alone this whole time?”

“Yes! The waitress has checked up on him, like, five times. Poor thing,” Bitty said, frowning. “Someone definitely stood him up. We should go see if he wants to come sit with us to take his mind off of it.”

“Are you kidding me? I bet he got stood up because he’s an asshole.”

“Kent.”

“What if he’s a serial killer?” Kent said, then sat up straighter and poked at Bitty’s forearm. “Even worse-- what if he’s the kind of guy who golfs on weekends?”

“Oh, shush. You’ve been such a grump today,” Bitty said, which, ouch, but true. Maybe Kent wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thought, which was possibly something that he should talk to his therapist about. “We’re going to do something nice and we’re going to feel good about it.”

Feel good. A Freudian slip, or maybe a complete coincidence, but it was enough for Kent to jump to a conclusion that he felt pretty good about. He grinned.

“You just want us to have a threesome with him, don’t you?”

They stared each other down for a few moments. Bitty had a decent poker face, but Kent had known him for long enough to recognize the faint pink blush on his cheeks as a dead giveaway that he was right.

Finally, Bitty gave in. “Okay, fine, I think we should invite him home with us. But once you see him, you’re gonna agree with me. He’s exactly your type.” And before Kent could speak, he added, “Your other type, sweetheart. Not like me at all.”

“Big guy?”

“Mm,” Bitty hummed, gazing over Kent’s shoulder and nodding, chin resting in his hands again. “Thighs for days. Dark hair, very mysterious. Could definitely play a vampire in a movie, but like, a vampire who works out.”

“Fuck, okay. Invite him over,” Kent said, just as their waitress passed by again. While Bitty stood and headed out of Kent’s view, Kent waved her over so she could get him another margarita. She brought the drink out immediately. Kent was just lifting it up to his mouth for a sip when Bitty returned, smiling and bouncing on his toes as he sat back down across the table from Kent.

And then next to him, because Kent Parson’s life was a nightmare or at least a mildly uncomfortable stress dream, Jack Zimmermann sat down, looking stunningly handsome but also sheepish and shy right up to the moment when he met Kent’s eyes. Immediately, Jack’s annoyingly perfect face collapsed into a frown, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost.

At least, that’s what Kent felt like, because here was the same Jack Zimmermann who Kent had been moping about all day, after seeing on Facebook that morning that he’d moved back to town after more than five years away. Kent hadn’t seen him in person for nearly as long, since the last time he’d made a pitiful attempt to win Jack back at the Zimmermann family holiday party was just a month before he’d met Bitty. This was that Jack Zimmermann, back in his life without any warning.

It was all Kent could do not to spit out his entire mouthful of tequila and sugar, and the only reason he didn’t was because his shirt was white and he didn’t feel like spending his evening trying to remove a pink stain from it, but God, he wanted the drama of it.

Bitty dove right into introductions, seemingly unaware of Kent’s hopefully well-disguised mental and emotional crisis. “Jack, hon, this is my boyfriend, Kent. Kent, this is Jack. He just moved in across the street from here.”

Kent swallowed. His drink felt like it had gone stale in his mouth. “We’ve met,” he said, dry.

“Oh, really?” Bitty asked, looking up at Jack again, narrowing his eyes.

Jack didn’t say anything at all. Instead, while he sat there slack-jawed and wide-eyed, Kent had to explain what was going on. “This is Jack Zimmermann,” Kent said, trying to use his eyes to convey his sheer panic to Bitty. “I played hockey with him in high school,” he said, because that was easier than saying that Jack was the one who broke his heart, and anyway, Bitty knew the entire story and would be able to infer.

Bitty continued to force a smile. “Goodness! Well, I really walked right into that one, huh? No wonder you looked so familiar,” he said, patting Jack’s arm in a way that Kent knew was meant to be both comforting, but actually made Jack look like he was about to implode.

“Eugh,” Jack started, helpful as ever, and something about his rich tenor made Kent’s blood feel warm. It was also possible that the tequila had just hit. “I can go. I don’t want to, um, upset anyone. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to! We’d still be glad to have you join us,” Bitty said. “I know that Kent has so much he’d love to talk to you about, and I’m sure it’s the same on your end of things!”

“Bits,” Kent hissed. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been betrayed this badly. Bitty was definitely sleeping on the couch tonight, but he couldn’t say that right now, because that would probably look bad in front of Jack.

Kent didn’t want that, probably. In fact, he wasn’t at all sure what exactly he did want from Jack now, at this point in his life, at age 25 and happy with his boyfriend, job, cat, apartment, and basically every other aspect of life that showed that he had proudly moved on from Jack Zimmermann.

And yet Kent couldn’t help but let his mind drift to how happy he was that he hadn’t had time to change after work, because he looked pretty damn good in his slacks and button-down. He wasn’t wearing a hat, but he had spent a very long time in front of the restroom mirror touching up his hair after his lunch break, so he felt pretty confident that it looked good right now. Comparatively, this was a much better way of running into Jack than, say, running into him during a late-night grocery run when Kent was wearing ratty sweatpants and a shirt with a picture of his cat on it.

Kent thought he looked okay. And he did want Jack to know that he was okay.

Jack was still frowning, and the worry lines in his forehead and around his eyes were deeper than they used to be. His eyes were also, somehow, so much more blue than Kent remembered, as if time had somehow erased their intensity. After a moment, Jack cleared his throat, stilted and awkward, and said the one thing that could convince Kent to give this a shot: “I’ve missed you.”

It was too much.

“Yup,” Kent said, standing up fast enough to knock into the table and jostle it, loudly shifting the plates and glasses and fake cactus on top of it. “I gotta hit the bathroom. Bitty?”

Bitty stood, much more graceful, and slid out of the booth. “It seems like I also have to use the restroom. Stay here and we’ll be right back,” he said, and something in his tone was commanding enough that Jack obediently remained seated and didn’t argue.

Kent pushed through the main room of the restaurant and back to the hallway where the restrooms were located and closed the door once he and Bitty were both in the one-stall men’s bathroom. He took stock of the situation: shockingly he wasn’t having a panic attack, but he was still feeling thrown off and almost dazed.

“I think I’m in shock. Could I literally be in medical shock right now? Am I crying?” he said to his own reflection in the mirror, eyes wet and hair wild. His hair had cowlicks, it seemed, remained tamed. Over his shoulder, he could see mirror-Bitty facepalm, then move closer so he could pat Kent’s shoulder.

“Kent, honey,” Bitty started, then paused as Kent leaned over the sink and splashed water in his face, hoping to refresh himself. “I love you, but you really have zero common sense. You’re getting your shirt all wet.”

“Good!” Kent said. “Does it look like I’m crying? Because I’m totally not crying.”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying because you’ve basically trained yourself not to cry properly, which is absolutely not healthy, but I’m not going to lecture you about it right now,” Bitty said. “But even if you were, it’d be fine! I’m sure he’s freaking out just as much as you are right now!”

“Is this a pep talk, or are you trying to make me feel guilty?” Kent asked. “Because I don’t feel guilty. He ignored me for years, Bits. It never meant anything to him.”

“Kenny.” Bitty grabbed Kent by the shoulders. Kent could feel them flex and press into his shirt as Bitty raised up slightly onto his toes. It was a habit he’d developed from years of trying to close their three-inch height difference, and the familiarity of it lulled Kent’s pulse to a more reasonable pace. “You’ve been wanting closure with him for as long as I’ve known you. I know he broke your heart. But you’re both adults now and I think you’re finally mature enough to talk about it, so why don’t we give it a try?”

Kent leaned forward until Bitty understood what he wanted and wrapped his arms around him in a proper hug. He sighed. “Yeah, okay. Even though I hate it when you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Bitty said, giving Kent’s back one final pat and then gently pushing him back out of the restroom and into the main floor of the restaurant.

For the first time, Jack smiled. “Did you spill a glass of water on your shirt?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kent said. “What really matters is that my boyfriend thinks you’re hot. Can you buy him a drink and also explain why the fuck you’re back in town?”

“Oh,” Jack started, then faltered. “I guess, I-- well. I got a new job.” He took a deep breath, then turned to Bitty. “Sorry, what would you like to drink?”

“Just a regular margarita, thank you,” Bitty said, sliding into the booth next to Jack. “So, Mr. Zimmermann. Please tell us all about this new job of yours.”

And so Jack did. Kent was quiet during their first round of drinks, listening and watching and learning about this new, older Jack Zimmermann. He was still reserved and still a little bit slow on the uptake when it came to the jokes and slang that Kent and Bitty easily tossed around, but he also cracked a few jokes of his own, which was something he never used to do when they were teenagers. He was more relaxed, too: although Kent spent several minutes watching Jack’s hands, he didn’t see them shake at all.

Their conversation flowed easily enough that two hours passed without Kent noticing. He only realized that it was close to ten-- closing time-- that their waitress had started to hover around the table, pacing at the edge of Kent’s line of vision. At ten, she shuffled up to the table, but didn’t say anything yet. The girl was young, probably in high school, and Kent felt bad for her. He’d hated waiting tables, too, back when he’d done it in college. He looked at Bitty, then at the waitress, trying to subtly let him know that it was time to go.

Bitty nodded, and then, under the table, kicked Kent. It was all Kent could do to keep from yelping, but he somehow managed it and shot a glare in Bitty’s direction, thankful that Jack was oblivious and rambling happily about his photography. Bitty kicked Kent again. Clearly, it was up to him to decide how they were going to end the night.

“Alright,” Kent said, before his leg had to sustain any more damage. He waved the waitress closer and motioned for the check. “How about we move this to our place? You can meet my cat, Zimms.”

Jack looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, accepting the check and sliding his card into the holder before either of them could stop him. It was a convenient way for him to avoid eye contact.  “I don’t know if you want anything like that, and if you want to just ignore me so we go back to pretending each other doesn’t exist, I could get over that too.”

“But,” Bitty prompted, kicking Kent again.

“But I’d like it if you’d come home with us,” Kent said, finally looking up from where he’d been fidgeting with his debit card.

It was dim in the restaurant this late at night, the colorful string lights and candles doing little against the dark outside, but Jack’s eyes were shining. He nodded, thoughtful. “This was nice. I’d like that too.”

“Thank God,” Bitty said. “Okay, let’s get out of here. I’m dying to get out of my work clothes,” he said, giving Jack a wink that made him choke on his last sip of the single pint of beer he’d been nursing all night.

As they left the restaurant, Jack and Kent walked on either side of Bitty, who looked as pleased as the cat who’d gotten the cream. “Told you we’d feel good about this,” he said, knocking his hips against Kent’s own and smiling, and that’s when Kent realized what should have occurred to him the moment that Bitty invited Jack over to their table.

That little shit knew who Jack was all along.

The door to the kitchen of the coffee shop slammed open and Bitty turned his head to see his boyfriend plastering his back against the door. Most of Kent’s face was blank, but there was a look of utter panic in his eyes that nearly made Bitty abandon the puffed pastry he was working on. Kent opened his mouth before Bitty could ask what was wrong.

“We can’t work here anymore.”

Bitty blinked, because that made absolutely no sense. “What are you talking about sweetpea, you love it here.”

Finishing up, Bitty folded the pastry before moving to put it back in the refrigerator, which incidentally brought him closer to Kent. The other boy had pushed himself off the door and was now pacing agitatedly in Bitty’s kitchen. “Okay, you can still work here. And so can I, I guess, but I can’t go back to the front.”

Bitty chanced a look at the front through the small round windows in the double doors that led to the kitchen, but there didn’t seem to be anything special going on. Certainly nothing that would warrant this reaction from Kent at least.

"The guy,” Kent said helpfully, though he still didn’t move from his prostrated position on the ground. “With a square jaw and stupidly blue eyes and that perfect fucking hair and-" 

Kent stopped himself with a groan, but Bitty felt like it wasn't because he had run out of material to talk about. The description was perfect though, because wow, the guy near the corner did have a perfect jaw, and hair that looked soft, and when he raised his head Bitty ducked under the windows too because those piercing blue eyes sure were something.

"So it's not just me, is it?"

Kent's commiserating voice let Bitty breathe properly again as he realised that his heart was beating far too fast for no discernable reason. "Does he always look at you like-"

Bitty couldn't find the words to express the feeling, but Kent and him were on the same wavelength  as usual. "Like you're the sole focus of his attention, yeah."

And this time, Bitty realised that something was wrong, because Kent usually never sounded despondent when they were both noticing a boy like that. He stood up and moved closer to his boyfriend. 

"Okay, what did he do?" Bitty asked in all seriousness. He pulled Kent into his arms and the other boy moved easily enough. The tension in Ken's sturdy frame seemed to lessen as Bitty breathed with him, and he eventually answered the hug.

"We... used to date, Kent said eventually. And it hadn’t ended well judging by the way Kent was still refusing to look Bitty in the eyes.

Bitty chased every good thought he'd had about the man's attractiveness out of his mind. "Want me to kick him out?" he asked, though he wasn't expecting a positive answer. After all, Kent knew how much Bitty abhorred confrontation, and kicking that guy out without due cause would certainly count as such. As he’d expected, Kent shook his head in refusal.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, and it thankfully seemed like the ex wasn’t planning on staying in the coffee shop for long. The next time Bitty looked through the windows, Kent’s ex was gone, much to both their relief. 

-------------

Unfortunately, it seemed like the appearance of Kent’s ex wasn’t a coincidence the first time, but was instead the beginning of a new habit. Bitty usually wouldn’t mind, except that this was Kent’s ex and Bitty was thus contractually obligated to hate him on principle. This also wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for the café’s dreadful lack of clientele at 7 in the morning, which coupled with Bitty’s southern upbringing, forced him to make small talk with the man under pain of disappointing his mental mama Bittle. Actually talking to the guy emphatically did not improve things however.

“All of this would be so much easier if he was actually rude,” Bitty eventually complained to Chowder, who had the misfortune of being the only person in the vicinity other than Kent once the ex left.

“But he isn’t?” Chowder asked, but Bitty was too busy moping over how terrible of a boyfriend he was being to try and process what undercurrent of emotion the other boy had added in his tone.

“But he isn’t.” In fact, Kent’s ex – and Bitty was determined not to call him Jack despite having been given explicit permission to do so by the man himself – had been nothing but polite to Bitty, and even tipped generously, the bastard! How was Bitty supposed to hold on to his dislike in such a case?

“Talking to Kent might work?” Chowder’s reply had Bitty realizing that he must have said part of his inner monologue out loud and he flushed. Chowder waved away his attempts at apologies and simply continued. “That’s his ex, right? If they broke up, Kent must have tons of reasons as to why it didn’t work, and they might help you like him less.”

“Chowder, you are a genius!” Elated, Bitty engulfed the younger boy into a hug, nearly choking him with the force of his embrace.

-------------

Kent looked up as the doors to the apartment he shared with his boyfriend opened. He would usually have waited for Bitty to be done so that they could leave the coffee shop together, but he’d had an appointment with his endocrinologist that afternoon and had to leave earlier. Bitty crossed the threshold, arms laden with groceries and looking slightly dumbfounded. Kent chuckled and moved to help him.

“You look like you’ve discovered the answers to the universe, what gives?”

If Kent hadn’t been looking at his boyfriend, he might have missed the way his expression faltered slightly before coming back to normal. As it was, he had nothing to distract him from Bitty’s face and he didn’t much like what he saw.

It seemed like Bitty had learned that there wasn’t much he could do to keep Kent from finding out what he was feeling, for he relented. He greeted Kent with a kiss and crossed the room to put down the groceries in the kitchen.  “It’s about your ex.”

Kent grimaced even as he tried to ignore the pang in his chest that resurfaced every time he thought about Jack. It had been years already – 3 years and 7 months, not that Kent was counting – and yet his reaction still hadn’t abated.

He knew Bitty wouldn't push, especially not if Kent insisted, but maybe it was time to face his problems instead of spending another two weeks hiding in the kitchen like his life depended on it every time he caught a glimpse of Jack. "Shoot," he sighed, though he put on a cocky smirk to put his boyfriend at ease.

Bitty didn't seem impressed, but he still continued. He seemed to hesitate over his words, strangely enough. Kent briefly wondered how terrible the question he was going to ask had to be to cause this reaction. "I need you to give me all the reasons you can think of to hate him," Bitty said in a rush, as though the words were fighting to come out of his mouth.

"You... what?"

Kent's nonplussed answer must have opened a dam, because Bitty transformed under his widening eyes. The other boy spoke too fast, moving his arms so much as he ranted that the sleeves of his shirt slid down to reveal the strap of his binder. Kent managed to catch something about Jack, and nice, and too much hockey, and tips, and polite maybe? By the time the rant was over, he did have a very good idea about what the problem was, and grimaced slightly as he considered his answer.

"Yeah, Itsy?" Bitty turned, facing Kent again, and he opened his mouth. "Yeah, he's not-  I can't really help you with that." Kent admitted wistfully. "We didn't break up because he was terrible or anything, it was..."

He raised his hand to make some kind of gesture, to try to illustrate his feelings, but eventually let it fall down after it having hovered in the air. What was there to say? That they’d broken up because they were both in terrible states, which in turn made them terrible for each other? He sighed, before leaning against Bitty’s shoulder, who’d approached to stand at his side. Reaching out for his boyfriend’s hand, Kent looked at their entangled fingers and tried to voice his thoughts. 

“He hated himself and closed himself off, I hated myself and lashed out, it built up along with other factors until…” Kent interrupted himself, not wanting to be the one to tell Bitty about Jack’s overdose. It wasn’t his place after all, and Bitty really didn’t have to know.  “Something happened,” he continued instead. He shrugged. Turned his head to look Bitty in the eye. “We never officially broke up, I guess, but we never saw each other again and eventually moved away.”

Kent had thought he’d gotten over the whole train of events, but even years later there was still an ache in his chest when he thought about Jack. That, and he had to admit that his inability to face Jack didn’t solely come from the awkwardness of facing an ex.

“Nonono, Kent!” Bitty was pleading in that way that let Kent know he was being a drama queen rather than genuinely distressed. He even swooned toward Kent, and Kent couldn’t help the small laughter that escaped him at the sight. It was far too obvious that he was trying to dispel the tension, but Kent still felt grateful for it, ridiculous as his boyfriend was being. It was working after all. 

“You were supposed to help me hate your ex, not make me feel sad for the both of you” Bitty protested, though he was also smiling slightly now that the tension had been released.

Kent shook his head fondly and lowered his face to Bitty’s hair, breathing in his familiar scent. “Sorry Bitsy, he’s just that great.”

The tranquil atmosphere couldn’t last for that long though, not when Kent knew he’d let too much of his feelings show with the way he spoke.

“You still love him,” Bitty said eventually, and Kent flinched as he realised that it wasn’t a question. And he couldn’t in all honesty deny the statement.

“I love you,” he said instead. Even to his ears the words sounded like an exrather than honest, even if he meant every single one of them. 

Still, Bitty didn’t push him away. He didn’t even let go of the reassuring hold he had on Kent’s shoulder. Instead, he kept holding Kent close and used his free hand to guide Kent’s chin until they were locking gazes together again. 

“I never doubted that for a second, Kent,” Bitty said, and the words were fierce in a way that made Kent’s eyes mist over a little. “And I love you too, no matter what your feelings towards Jack may be.”

Kent couldn’t keep looking Bitty in the eyes like this. Not when he felt like his heart had grown three sizes and he had to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. Not when the weight and guilt he’d unconsciously felt piling on his shoulder seemed to have lightened with his boyfriend’s tacit approval and unconditional love. Not when he knew Bitty would support his decision no matter what it would be. 

Sniffling a little, Kent engulfed Bitty into a hug and hid his face into his boyfriend’s neck, relishing in the soothing motion a steady hand on his back. 

“You should talk to him,” Bitty whispered near his ear. Kent couldn’t see his face, but his voice was tremulous, like he was holding back tears too. “There’s enough place in your heart for more than just little me, and you could see where you want to go from there, alright?”

This time, it was Kent’s turn to pull back a little until he could press his forehead on Bitty’s own. “You’ve never been “just” anything to me,” he whispered hoarsely against Bitty’s lips. He closed the distance between their mouths to press them together gently for a few moments. “And if there’s a future out there that doesn’t include you I don’t want it. 

“Kent Parson!” Bitty exclaimed with a tearful burst of laughter. “You are not allowed to make me cry in my own goddamn apartment!”

-------------

It took a while for Kent to put Bitty’s advice into action. Bitty didn’t even push, even when Kent kept conveniently finding tasks to do in the kitchen where he could remain out of view of the customers. Jack must have seen him at least once by this point, unless he had truly become more oblivious to the way he affected people with time. It had to come to a breaking point eventually though.

“Okay, this can’t go on like this I’m going out.”

“Kent, are you-”

But Kent didn’t let Bitty finish his sentence before he’d headed off towards the table that had become Jack’s usual since his first visit to the café. Jack didn’t look up as Kent approached, nose buried in what was probably a history book, knowing him. He did raise his head however when Kent stopped near his table and didn’t move.

“Hey.” The word left his mouth like a prayer and a curse all at once. It was also like exhaling a sigh of relief, and Kent felt all the better for it even as he felt his senses narrow until everything outside of Jack and himself felt dulled.

Kent had been very careful about not stalking Jack on the various kind of social networks available to him, and maybe this was why he was so taken aback by the intensity of those blue eyes. Jack’s eyes looked Kent over with a clinical gaze for a few moments, and Kent felt ice begin to cover him as he pondered the possibility that Jack might have forgotten him entirely. After all, it had been years since they’d seen each other, he’d gotten on hormones since he’d broken up with Jack and though he wasn’t unrecognizable there were still some sizeable changes there. What if Jack had never tried contacting Kent because he truly didn’t care? This entire thing was a terrible idea, Kent should have remained in the kitchen after all.

After what seemed like too long, Jack finally opened his mouth, recognition replacing the confusion in that cold gaze. “Kenny?” said Jack, looking him up and down, and Kent felt the full weight of that stare on him. He didn’t answer verbally – couldn’t get his voice to work suddenly – but his expression must have talked enough for him because Jack suddenly looked both relieved and deeply uncomfortable. They stared at each other in silence, neither of them willing to break it.

“You, euh, you have thighs,” Jack eventually said.

Kent just. Stared. Well no, that wasn’t exactly what he did. He looked at his thighs first and noticed that yes, he did in fact have them, but then he let his gaze climb back up and stared at Jack. To be fair, the other man seemed as confused as Kent about the words that came out of his own mouth, so Kent decided to give him some leeway. Before he could speak, Jack hastened to correct himself.

“Not that you didn’t before, it’s just-” Jack gestured vaguely in the direction of Kent’s legs, and Kent couldn’t believe he still felt some sort of fondness for that awkward mess of a boy. “They got bigger since we-”

“Yeah,” Kent interrupted before Jack could mention their failed attempt at a relationship. “Um, I took up hockey again? And I work out too so…”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, and Kent couldn’t take it anymore. He broke their staredown and turned on his feet, speed walking out of there as fast as he could. 

Bitty was hands deep in a new batch of what looked like croissants when Kent opened the door, so Kent hovered at his side and waited for him to finish before he spoke. “Okay, we need to move on to plan B.”

“Plan B, what plan B?” Bitty asked confusedly. Then his face split up in a delighted smile. “Oh, you talked to Jack! How did it go?”

Kent waved his concerns away. “We talked, but now we need plan B,” Kent repeated, and he couldn’t believe Bitty hadn’t understood him the first time. “Which is the one where you talk to him in my place, because I can’t focus when his face is just… Right there!”

~FOUR YEARS AGO~

Jack pulls Bitty aside before the match. “You okay there, bud. You seem a little…wound-up.”

“I’m fine.” Jack watches Bitty’s hand clench tightly around his hockey stick.

“Okay.” Jack lets it go, even though he knows Bitty is lying. There isn’t time now to get into it. The Aces are waiting for them on the ice.

Jack takes an embarrassingly long time to figure it out, and in fact, he doesn’t even get there by himself.

Kent skates past him before second interval and hisses, “What’s the new guy got against me?”

Jack watches Bitty in the next play as he pulls a spinorama around Kent and whisks the puck away. It’s not skills, it’s showmanship. Like Bitty’s trying to embarrass Kent.

Jack spies Kent and swings past him, speaking quickly so it’s not obvious. “He knows about our history.”

Kent has to wait until the next pause in play to respond.

“I apologised for that,” Kent speaks angrily. “We both did.”

“I didn’t think I needed to let Bits know that.”

“Well, could ya?” Kent demands, starting to skate away. “He’s being a fucking menace to me.”

Jack doesn’t get a chance to say anything during the game. He makes sure Bitty doesn’t get picked for post-game interviews but by the time he himself has finished, Bitty’s gone from the locker-room. His stuff is still in his nook though, so Jack goes looking. He can’t be far, and Jack has a suspicion he knows which direction Bitty would have gone in.

The two blond heads are easy to spot, and their voices carry in the empty corridor.

“You tweeted me?” Jack can easily picture the ice in Bitty's eyes at that tone.

Kent shrugs and Jack can see Bitty’s hackles rise. “Knew you’d see it. I’ve got something to say to you.”

Jack starts to jog, heart pounding.

Bitty lifts his chin. “Why should I bother hearing it? I’ve got a win to celebrate.”

“You should bother because you played almost as dirty as me out there.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “Hypocritical remarks. Great. I’m leaving.”

Kent reaches out to grab Eric but Jack reaches them in time and puts his body in the middle of them.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Bitty smiles brittlely. “We’re leaving.”

Jack looks from Bitty to Kent.

“Kent, you should say what it is you wanted to.” He doesn’t want this getting into Bitty’s head again at their next game.

Bitty’s jaw slackens. “You’re on his side? That’s the guy who can push you into an anxiety spiral in three sentences! Whose ego is so big that—"

“Woah. Hey, Bits,” Jack interrupts, seeing the curling of Kent’s fists. “We’ve talked about that. It’s in the past. We’ve both apologised to each other.”

Jack keeps his eyes on Bitty, watching his expression thaw ever so slightly.

“Right. Fine. Okay.” Bitty relents for the moment, though Jack knows they’ll be talking about it later. Bitty presses his lips together in a firm line and looks Kent up and down, unimpressed. “I still think you’re a dick,” he tells Kent before stalking back to the locker rooms.

“Back atcha,” Kent shouts to Bitty’s back.

~PRESENT DAY~

“I'm going to the kitchen,” Bitty announces, picking up the empty bottle of wine. “Does anyone want anything?”

Jack shakes his head. “I'm good, bud.”

“Is there more of your hazelnut ice cream?” Kent asks.

“Think so,” Bitty tells Kent. “I'll bring the tub if there is.”

“Love you,” Kent replies, stopping Bitty en route to the kitchen to give him a kiss.

“Love watching him leave,” Kent says to Jack, stealing Bitty's old spot on the couch. Jack agrees wholeheartedly but flicks Kent's ear anyway.

“Ouch,” Kent complains.

Jack smiles at Kent so he knows it's in jest when he says, “Why are you always so crass.”

“You bring it out in me. You're both too hot for my own good.” Kent licks an exaggerated line up Jack's neck so Jack pulls his hair in retaliation.

Bitty re-enters and avoids the ensuing tussle by sitting on the opposite armrest of the couch. “Well, at least I know you didn't read ahead without me,” he interrupts after a few moments.

He takes a scoop from the tub of ice cream in his lap and passes it to Jack.

“Any bets on what the closing paragraph is going to be?” Jack asks. It's a running game for them to predict the path of these articles.

Bitty hums. “I'm thinking something about trade rumours—reuniting the Parson Zimmermann dream team.”

“Good one. How much are we betting?” Jack asks, passing the tub across to Kent, who grabs at it eagerly.

“Ten dollars?”

“Mh. Ten tubs of this ice cream,” Kent says with his mouth full.

“Declined,” Bitty says. “Even if I give you my recipe and watch you cook, it’ll somehow turn out wrong.”

Kent pokes out an ice cream-covered tongue and Jack uses the distraction to steal the tub back.

“Winner gets to choose the theme for our Halloween party this year?” Jack suggests.

“Ooh. I like that one even better actually. I'm in.” Kent holds his spoon aloft. “I'm gonna go with…” He twirls the spoon as he thinks before landing it on Jack's shoulder. “I bet they talk about the Stanley Cup in a way that implies if one of our teams wins it'll prove LGBT-plus players are proficient.”

“Kinda specific,” Jack comments, tipping the tub so Kent can access it. “You’re sure you wanna go with that?”

“No, no. Let him make the weird and specific bet,” Bitty argues. “It's funnier that way. Plus they're actually right half the time.”

~THREE YEARS AGO~

Bitty, stretched out on the couch with phone in hand, laughs. It's the groan that follows it that gets Jack's attention.

“You good?”

Bitty groans again. “I'm annoyed. I was going through Kent's Instagram for his cat and it's hilarious.”

“And that's annoying to you?”

“No. Yes. Probably.” Bitty drops the phone onto his chest and digs his hands into his eyes. “Should it be?”

Jack shuts his book properly and sits on the coffee table so he’s up near Bitty's head.

“You're always number one in my book.”

Bitty drops his hands and smiles at Jack.

“I'm gonna follow him,” he declares.

“Uh…” is all Jack gets out before Bitty hits the follow button.

“And fuck it, his personal one too.”

Jack manages a full, “Are you sure?” this time at least. Bitty still trash talks Kent when they face each other. He doesn't think this will go well.

Jack's worry turns out to be unfounded.

“I really wish you'd bond over something that isn't my clothes,” Jack pleads, watching Kent and Bitty in stitches on the couch.

“But Jack. Jack. Look.” Bitty holds his phone up for Jack to see. His laughter shakes it so much it's tricky to even pick what outfit they're laughing over this time. “Your shoes.”

“Your shoes,” Kent repeats. “Bright yellow.”

“Yellow,” Bitty echoes, nodding sagely in the way only tipsy people can get away with. “And your t-shirt is huge.”

“So huge,” Kent gasps, wiping tears from his eyes. “I bet you twenty bucks Bitty and I could fit in it. Like together. At the same time.”

Jack doesn't think his clothes are that big. He laughs. “Deal. Twenty it is.”

Bitty and Kent share a look and then Jack's racing them down the corridor, trying to stop Bitty from showing Kent their closet.

Kent and Bitty strongarm him into giving them both twenty.

~PRESENT DAY~

“How long is this article, anyway?” Kent asks when Jack pauses between paragraphs.  “They aren’t even up to us coming out yet.”

“I was out before getting drafted,” Bitty points out, licking his spoon clean of the last of the ice cream.

Kent leans over the back of the couch from where he's been pacing and stretches a hand over Jack’s shoulder to reach for the laptop

Jack holds the laptop out away from Kent’s reach.

“Come on. I just wanna see.”

“I’ll lose my place.”

“I’ll find it for you again.”

“And then you’ll—"

“It’s 3000 words,” Bitty interrupts their argument. He holds up his phone at their twin looks. “I googled it.”

Jack scrolls down a little anyway, to appease Kent, then hands the laptop over his shoulder to him. He gets a quick kiss on the cheek for his troubles.

“On National Coming Out Day 2020, Bittle, Parse and Zimmermann came out on social media—”

“Already out,” Bitty repeats.

“—their announcements prompting several other current and retired players to join them over the following months. Though they say they were not together at the time, several months later the trio was spotted apartment hunting by fans, leading to speculation—later confirmed by the players themselves—that they were in a relationship. One year on and—”

Kent stops reading and scoffs. “This is bullshit.” He points a finger at the laptop. Bitty and Jack have to turn on the couch to see. “They didn’t even talk about the parade!”

“Look on the bright side,” Jack says, “at least they're not using that ‘we fell in love over FaceTime’ quote.”

“I stand by that,” Kent claims. Jack believes him, he just likes bringing it up.

“I remember when you said it,” Bitty says, holding his arm out over the back of the sofa to grab Kent's free hand. “I thought it was very sweet.”

“See, Bitty likes it.” Jack knows Kent's teasing from the easy smile on his face but he plays along.

“I didn't say it wasn't sweet,” Jack points out. ‘I just meant, it certainly wasn't the full story.”

“Well that one wasn't appropriate for mass media,” Kent replies.

“No!” Bitty says with overdone shock, hand pressed to his chest. “Spending a long weekend with us and bottling up your supposedly unrequited feelings only to confess those feelings over FaceTime the second you flew into McCarran, then hop on another plane straight back to us? That's not appropriate?”

“I meant more the stuff that happened after.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Always so crass.”

“That wasn't crass, that was suggestive.”

“Pee-can, pe-cahn,” Jack replies.

Kent sticks his tongue out.

“We're glad you did it,” Bitty says, pulling on their still linked hands to kiss him.

Kent returns to the article, making his way slowly around the couch.

“They’ve put in that blurry phone pic again,” he sighs. “Why do people always use that one? We weren't even together yet.”

“Jack’s ass in those jeans,” Bitty says at the same time Jack says, “Bitty’s hand in your hair.”

Jack waits for the inevitable follow-up. He catches Bitty’s eyes and knows he’s doing the same.

Three, Bitty mouths.

Two, Jack mouths back, grinning.

One.

“But my eyes are shut!” Kent complains with his usual dramatic flair.

Jack and Bitty start laughing.

“What? Guys, what?” Kent asks sulkily.

Bitty gasps. “You say that every time.”

“Well my eyes are shut every time,” Kent replies, defensive.

“At least it’s not the picture from your birthday last year,” Jack points out.

Bitty shudders beside him. “Amen.”

~ONE YEAR AGO~

The flash from the camera is blinding.

“Take the flash off,” Jack shouts over the groans of people who’ve been half-blinded.

“Yeah, take it off.” The way Kent’s hands are snaking into the waistband of his pants makes it clear he’s not talking about the camera flash.

“Sorry!” Bitty says, adjusting the setting. “Okay, final one y’all.”

Bitty starts the self-timer then dashes to squeeze himself into the group. He jumps on Jack’s back and almost topples them both over by throwing an arm to wrap around Kent’s shoulders.

After the camera clicks, Bitty pulls them both by the hand over to the camera. He brings up the final photo and zooms in on the three of them.

“Dear lord.” Bitty flips the camera so they can see.

“Holy shit,” Jack exclaims.

Kent grabs the camera and zooms in even more, laughing. “I love this photo. This is the best birthday photo ever. I’m gonna print it and frame it and keep a copy in my wallet.”

“Isn’t it a litte, uh, N-S-F-W?” Jack can’t help but say.

Bitty groans. “Jack, please don’t tell me you just—”

He grins and confirms Bitty’s fears. “Not safe for wallet.”

Bitty headbuts Jack’s chest. The blond hairs tickle his skin and he’s pretty sure the body paint is going to rub off onto Bitty’s forehead. “No! That’s a fine. I’m calling it. Give me a kiss to make up for it. Right now.”

Jack happily obliges.

“You owe me one too,” Kent tells Jack, already leaning in for it. “Oh my god, that pun was bad.”

Kent laughs into Jack’s mouth as he kisses him, and Jack tries hard to shut him up with his tongue. It’s not that effective.

~PRESENT DAY~

“Oh. Is that it?” Kent sounds disappointed to have finished the article, for all his ribbing earlier. “No one guessed the ending then. Damn.”

Jack reaches over and closes the internet window before Kent hits the comments section. They’ve learnt to leave that be. It’s always the negative ones that stick with you.

Kent puts the laptop on the coffee table then twists on the couch so he can lean against the armrest and stretch his legs out over Jack’s lap.

“Not the best, not the worst,” Bitty remarks from Jack’s other side.

“There wasn’t anything new in it, at least,” Jack comments.

“Yeah, because we’re like the boring married people in the NHL now.” Kent manages to sound sad and relieved at once.

“Kenny, we’re neither of those things,” Jack says, rubbing a palm along Kent’s leg.