Work Text:
Kent tried really hard to not like Eric Bittle. In his defense, Kent is pretty sure Eric tried really hard to hate him, too.
But if Kent has learned anything in his life, it’s that some things are not meant to be.
Currently they were lounging on a couch, Eric’s toes poking into Kent’s side. Kent grabbed Eric’s foot and hoisted it in the air, pulling at each toe as he said, “This little piggy went to market, this little piggy went home, but this little piggy--”
“Kent, I swear to my dead Aunt Sally--”
“--this piggy is getting sent out to war!”
“Lord almighty.” Eric flipped around on the couch to face Jack, who hardly paid them any attention. He was too invested in his book, or perhaps his mug of coffee. “Jack, tell Kent to stop sending my toes off to war.”
Jack didn’t even look up from his book. “No comment, except to say I don’t understand why either of you play this game. It’s strange.”
Eric turned back to Kent, eyes wide in mock offense. Kent twisted his baseball cap to the back and linked his fingers over his head. In a stage whisper, he said to Eric, “Says the man whose favorite game is secretly pinching his boyfriend’s ass in public places.”
Jack’s eyes instantly narrowed, pointed at Eric. “Bitty.”
Eric kicked Kent’s shoulder with his foot again. “I told you that in confidence. And stop looking at me like that, Jack, it’s fine. I refuse to feel embarrassed about the ridiculous things we do as a couple. Every couple does them.”
Kent had a chirp waiting on his tongue, Plus, your ass is so small Jack has to double-check it hasn’t disappeared on him, but he kept it to himself. Eric probably wouldn’t care, he had a good sense of humor, but there was an unsaid rule that Kent was not allowed to chirp Bitty about:
- His tiny butt
- His baked goods
- Or, the most confusing of all, whether or not Eric was eating protein.
If any of those topics were approached, Jack would swiftly look Kent in the eyes, shake his head, and mouth, “No.” Kent wasn’t sure why they were deemed off-limits, but he was definitely sure he didn’t want to know.
The thing was, he sort of loved ribbing Eric. And he was pretty sure Eric loved ribbing him. In the end, insulting each other was the reason they became friends.
It had taken about two years for their friendship to reach its current state. After Jack’s first year in the NHL, they reached a tentative truce at the end of the season. (Okay, so Jack’s Dad had forced them to go to dinner and talk about their issues like mature adults, apparently too annoyed by Kent’s whining and Jack’s moping.) It wasn’t easy, nor did it happen quickly, but over the next season they casually texted. They went out for dinner when their teams faced each other.
Then came Eric.
Jack and Eric had been dating for several years at that point, of course, but Jack had kept them separate. Kent wasn’t sure why, but on particularly dark days, he stayed up too late wondering if Jack was embarrassed of him. Or if he was keeping their rekindled friendship secret. Kent had specifically gave Jack permission to tell Eric the whole story and they were cool now, so what the hell was the issue?
Once they did officially meet, however, Kent put two and two together. Eric greeted Kent with pursed lips, hands on hips, and narrowed eyes. Kent met Eric with a smug grin and raised eyebrows. Jack watched both of them with crossed arms.
“This was a terrible idea,” Jack had said.
His boyfriend patted him on the shoulder and cheerily said, “Nonsense, Jack. It’ll be fine. We’re all adults, here.”
It slipped out before he could help it. “Yeah. Even though some of us don’t look it.”
“Oh, God.”
“Is that a chirp about my height?” Eric asked, hand on his hip. “If so, try harder, Mr. Parson. That joke’s as old as you.”
And for some stupid reason, Kent did want to try harder. It was as if Eric had ignited some strange, competitive urge to chirp him every chance he could. Kent worried, at first, that it was undocumented jealousy rearing its ugly head again, except it didn’t feel that way. He was pretty sure he was over Jack. Any fantasies about Jack stayed firmly in the “God-it’d-be-fun-to-be-on-Jack’s-team-again” zone and nothing more. Plus, if he was jealous, it didn’t seem to explain why Eric and he continued to chirp each other even when Jack wasn’t there.
@omgcheckplease
Anyone else get the vibe that @AcesKennyP dresses his cat up in doll clothes, or is that just me?
@AcesKennyP
Ohhh, great idea, @omgcheckplease, could I borrow some clothes? Kit would fit perfect in your jeans.
@omgcheckplease
It’s cute how some people (COUGH @AcesKennyP COUGH) use the same joke and think they’re clever.
Their tweeting continued, along with the constant barbs, though somewhere along the lines the chirps became more and more bizarre. Less about landing blows, more about stumping the other person.
It was on a flight to Seattle, Kent’s nose pressed to his phone in a particular row with Eric on Twitter, when his teammate, Swoops, nudged him in the ribs and said, “Dude, you into this guy or something?”
Kent lowered his phone to gaze at Swoops in disgust. “God, no. We can barely stand each other.”
Swoops stole his phone and began scrolling through the Tweets. “You guys talk to each other every day. You wouldn’t invest that much time on a guy unless you wanted to fuck him, right?”
Something prickled at Kent’s skin. No. No, that wasn’t right. Kent had absolutely no interest in Eric like that. For one thing, just, no. For another, Eric made Jack supremely happy and, thank God, that genuinely made Kent happy. And third, Kent had a strict policy about blondes: he was to be the only one.
Which meant...there was really only one other possibility.
Oh, God.
He typed a private message to Eric: When did we become friends?
Eric’s reply came soon after: Ugh, I know, right? Jack says sometime around Thanksgiving.
Does this mean I have to stop chirping you?
Eric took a little longer to type, though Kent was pleased in the end. Eric’s response read: Oh, sweet, sweet Kenny. Why would we stop? You still need so much practice.
It was later that evening when Kent got a text from Swoops about getting drinks. He turned him down by taking an unflattering picture of Eric when he wasn’t looking and saying, “Sorry, got visitors.”
He groaned out loud when the inevitable response came from Swoops seconds later: “Your boyfriend not like to party?”
Eric, having no qualms about invading Kent’s space by this point, peered over his shoulder to see the drama. He was momentarily distracted by the awful picture, yelping, “When did you take that?” before he finally noticed the text.
“He thinks we’re dating,” Kent explained. “I’ve told him we’re not, but I can’t exactly say why without, well, you know.” He jerked his head toward Jack.
Jack nodded, the implication of gratitude obvious. Eric, on the other hand, stole Kent’s phone and started scrolling through his texts. He kept humming under his breath in an exaggerated fashion before finally settling with, “He sends you a lot of selfies.”
“He thinks he’s attractive or something.”
Eric looked up from the phone and said, “You don’t think he is?”
“He’s -- ugh, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
Eric stared, unblinking, until Kent came clean.
“Okay, I’ve thought about it a little. What does it matter?”
“Just curious is all,” Eric said simply, turning back to look through more texts. Then, because he was always a little fucker, he added, “I mean, he’s clearly into you. So if you thought he was cute--”
“Here we go.”
Eric crossed his legs, sat straight on the couch, and started ticking off reasons on his fingers. “First off, his insistence that we’re dating. My name comes up three times in the past two weeks. He’s either jealous or fishing. Second, the constant selfies. Straight boys do not send selfies to their bros.”
“Shitty sends me pictures all the time,” Jack countered.
Eric shushed him with his finger. “Shitty is an anomaly and should not be counted in any scientific study. Anyway, if you don’t believe me, explain this text to me.”
He flipped the phone to Kent. It was a message from Swoops, saying: “Dude, I’m bored... You should entertain me. ;)”
“That’s just--” Kent didn’t have an explanation, now that he looked at it from Eric’s point, so instead he took back the phone. “It’s whatever.”
Eric’s linked his fingers behind his head and leaned back into the couch, wiggling his shoulders as he fell. “I’m just saying.”
--
Kent left the conversation deciding that Eric was insane. There was no way Swoops liked him. They were just friends, nay, bros . Bros who hung out all the time and sometimes shared clothes and sat by each other on the bus or plane, who--
Fucking Eric Bittle.
He had planted this stupid idea in Kent’s head and now he couldn’t see anything else. Once Eric and Jack had left, Swoops asked Kent to get drinks again but this time he bought Kent’s drink. Was that a sign? Was he hitting on Kent or was it just a symptom of being bros? Or when Swoops swung his arm around Kent’s shoulder and pulled him close to make fun of a rookie getting sloshed in the corner. The bar was loud enough, no one would overhear a snide comment, yet Swoops got so close and--
Fucking Eric Bittle.
Not to mention, the idea that Swoops could possibly be into Kent made Kent much more aware that he could possibly be into Swoops. In particular, the fact that Swoop had unreasonably wide shoulders and a stupidly small hips. Those two things weren’t supposed to go together and it felt entirely contradictory.
And Kent always thought he had a type and it always involved blue eyes and a French-Canadian accent, yet somehow he kept getting distracted by Swoops and his stupid, stupid puppy-dog brown eyes.
Fucking.
Eric.
Bittle.
Kent lasted for one month before he couldn’t take it anymore. Swoops had come over to watch a movie and his arm was slung over the back of the couch the entire time, achingly close to Kent’s shoulders, and it was so fucking distracting that Kent couldn’t follow the movie. Swoops was still conked out on the couch the next morning when Kent called Eric, keeping his voice low.
“Just ask him out,” Eric said.
“Oh, yeah, splendid, what could possibly go wrong?”
“Fine, then don’t. Continue to wallow and wonder. You’re flying to Montreal next, right? It’s a great city. Really romantic. Have fun sharing a room--”
“Alright, alright. I get it.” Kent peeked through the crack in the door to check Swoops was still sleeping. “But, like... how?”
“How what?”
“How do you ask someone out? I’ve never really had to.”
“Woooow.”
“Yeah, the perks of being famous and rich. It’s a thing. Now answer the question: how do I actually ask him out?”
Eric cleared his throat. “Well, personally, I have not exactly...done it either--”
“Woooow,” Kent mimicked.
“Shush. And I haven’t been asked out that often either, so I can really only tell you what Jack did. Which-- Alright, Kent, if I tell you, you’re sworn to secrecy, okay?”
Kent crossed his fingers. “Of course.”
Kent's hysterical laughter woke Swoops a minute later, but Kent couldn't stop himself even when Swoops came to check on him. He huddled in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, but with a bemused smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“Legos.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s-- Nothing.” When Swoops didn’t move from the door, still staring at Kent with one eyebrow high, he added, “I was just…getting some dubious advice.”
Swoops hooked his thumbs in the loops of his jeans and sauntered into the room. “From your boyfriend?”
“He’s not--”
“Your boyfriend, I know, I know.” Swoops sat on the edge of Kent’s bed. He was fiddling with the bedsheet.
An unsettling silence filled the air. It was abnormal for the two of them - Swoops, in particular, was known for being mouthy - and it took the laughter from Kent’s throat. He thought of Eric and Jack; how, ultimately, they only got together because Jack took a leap of faith.
“Why do you always ask me that?” Swoops turned his head back to look at Kent. He knew Swoops understood the question, knew what he was referring to, but when Swoops didn’t respond, Kent added, “If Eric is my boyfriend.”
Swoops shrugged. “It’s just… I don’t know, it’s weird to me.”
Kent blanched, and upon seeing his reaction, Swoops quickly added, “No! I said that wrong. It’s not weird that you could be with Eric, I don’t-- I don’t think it’s weird for two guys...uhh, yeah.” Swoops looked down at his hands, ears turning red. “It’s just weird to me that you’re not dating anyone. That’s all.”
Kent sat up in bed. “Why?”
“‘Cause you’re, you know.” Swoops gestured helplessly to Kent. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished, so Kent edged closer to the man.
“Charming?” Kent supplied.
Swoops snorted. “You think so. But no.”
Kent closed the gap another inch. “Talented?”
“Dude.”
“You’re right. It would never be an answer so obvious,” Kent said. It earned him a shove to his shoulder, which Kent returned, if only as an excuse to shove his thigh against Swoop’s.
Swoops noticed. Of course he did, Kent wasn’t being subtle. He was taking a chance, after all, and if Jack could run across campus and pull Eric into a searing kiss, then Kent could sit a little too close to the man he liked.
Swoops licked his bottom lip. “You’re just… You’re Kent Parson. There’s nothing else to say.”
Kent swallowed. “Swoops. If I kissed you, are you going to freak out--”
Swoops slid his hand behind Kent’s neck and guided him to his lips in one, swift motion. Kent couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, though all it took was Swoops biting at his lower lip to remind Kent that his lips would be of better use if pliable.
Kent broke away first, needing to breathe, but he curled his fingers into Swoop’s shirt to stay close. Swoops was the first to laugh, a release of tension in the air, and said, “So. Uh. Yeah. That was…good. Really good.”
Kent released his grip. It felt strange to be in this position with Swoops - to be sweet and quiet and romantic - but it wasn’t them. It wasn’t him. So, in full effort to be a bit of a dick, Kent said, “Except for your morning breath.”
Swoops shoved him. “You ass.”
“You like it.”
“Kind of,” Swoops admitted. He then grabbed for Kent’s hand, tugging at his fingers. “We should grab dinner later. Or something.”
“Wait. Are you asking me out?”
“Oh. Is that--” Swoops got up from bed and ran a hand through his hair. “If you just wanted to hook up, I’m not--”
“No! Sorry, it’s not that. I want to go on a date,” Kent said quickly, tugging Swoops back to a sitting position. “I just was working up to asking you out myself. You kind of stole my thunder.”
“Oh, chill. Yeah. Sorry?”
The two fell into an awkward silence for a moment. Swoops kept looking at Kent, more precisely the lower half of his face, and Kent couldn’t keep the grin off his face.
“I got a spare toothbrush, if you wanna’--”
Swoops grabbed a pillow off the ground and smacked Kent with it, but he was laughing all the same.
@AcesKennyP
Hey @omgcheckplease, I hear you like legos.
@omgcheckplease
Hey @AcesKennyP, I sent you a care package in the mail. Plenty of toothbrushes.
@swoops81
@omgcheckplease i think he’s covered. :)