Chapter Text
Jack let himself in the door from the garage, stamped his feet — quietly — on the mat and dropped his keys in the bowl. He heard the click-click-click of Puck’s nails on the hardwood floor of the corridor.
She came up and butted her head into his leg. She seemed warm and sleepy. She probably had been sleeping on the bed with Bitty. Jack couldn’t blame her. Curling up in bed with Bitty was next on his agenda.
But Puck was up now, and if he didn’t want to get up again in about four hours, it would be a good idea to let her out. Just a quick step out into the yard. She wouldn’t need a sweater for that.
“Okay, girl,” Jack said. “But you’re not going to like it out there.”
He let her out through the garage, opening the door into the fenced yard. She stepped onto the fresh snow with one paw and turned to give Jack a dirty look.
“I know,” Jack said. “But it’s not my fault. Go quick.”
She trotted a few steps away from the door, peed, and ran back in.
“There you go,” Jack said, locking up behind her.
When Jack opened the bedroom door, the shades were open, and the streetlights reflecting off the snow made the tuft of Bitty’s blond hair — the only part of him that Jack could see from under the blankets — look silver.
Jack opened the closet door and flicked the light on, hoping he could get inside and close the door to undress without waking Bitty. No such luck.
“Jack?” Bitty was propped on his elbows, hair mussed and face soft.
“Yeah, bud,” Jack said. “I’ll be there in a minute. Go back to sleep. It’s late.”
“How are you?” Bitty said. “You didn’t go back in — ”
“I’m fine,” Jack said. “Just a cut. Three stitches. But it’s not real pretty right now.”
“Oh, your poor beautiful face,” Bitty said. “Come here and let me see.”
He reached for the bedside lamp.
“It’s really okay,” Jack said. “Leave the light off. We need to get some rest.”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” Bitty said. “And the next day’s Christmas Day.”
“Yeah,” Jack said.
“So you have two full days off,” Bitty said. “You can sleep late and everything.”
“Gotta walk Puck,” he said. “Feed the chickens.”
“I can do that,” Bitty said, leaving the light off anyway. “You can sleep.”
“Wasn’t the deal that you’d take care of Puck when I was away?” Jack said.
“‘S okay,” Bitty said. “I don’t mind. Maybe we can go for a longer walk later, if you can get those booties on her.”
“Haha,” Jack said. “We’ll see. Anyway, I just took her out, so maybe she’ll let us sleep in a bit.”
Once his suit was hanging in the closet, he stepped to the bathroom.
“Just let me brush my teeth, bud,” he said.
He looked out the window on his way to the bed, watching the Christmas lights Bitty had put on the bushes while Jack was away shimmer on the new snow.
Bitty shifted over when Jack came to bed, giving him the warm spot. The sheets were chilly when he moved, but Jack spooned up behind him, drawing Bitty close with an arm around his abdomen.
“Lights look nice,” Jack said. “I like the white ones.”
“Me too,” Bitty said. “Mama and Coach always use the colored ones. I kept saying we should just use white, but Mama’d never listen.”
“Are you sad you didn’t go home for Christmas this year?” Jack said.
Bitty thought for a moment. He wanted to be honest with Jack, but it was important he got this right.
“I miss Mama,” he said. “And Coach. But now … that’s going to Georgia. This is home. And anyway, who would have watched Puck? Shitty was busy.”
“Shitty could have made it,” Jack said.
“No need,” Bitty said. “Besides, it was his first Christmas with Lardo’s family. Do you wish you went home to Montreal?”
“That’s where I grew up,” Jack said. “Or my childhood home, more accurately. This is my home now.”
Bitty felt Jack’s arm tighten around him, and snuggled into the embrace.
“My point exactly,” Bitty said.
He felt the mattress dip — that was Puck, climbing onto the bed to curl behind Jack’s knees. He watched the shimmer of the lights on the falling snow.
“I’m home right now,” Bitty said. “Love you, Jack.”
“Love you too, bud.”