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Jack was sitting away from the window - he found that although the cafe portion of his favorite bakery was mostly always busy, no one really wanted to sit by the kitchen doors, and there was a mostly hidden power socket down by the side of the chair meaning that he could get on with his writing and not have to panic over his laptop dying halfway through his thesis. It suited him just fine - he didn’t care too much about the loud noises and bustle from the kitchen, and the other patrons were mostly cut off by the rather poorly designed serving counter. He’d never been disturbed in the three years he’d been showing up, and he appreciated that.
He could hardly remember why he walked through the doors the first time - it had been owned by someone else back then, some weird hipster girl who’d overcharged everyone and played obscure house-folk music a little too loud. He’d paid for a coffee that wasn’t any better than the instant crap at the rink and had found his little spot in the back and… well, he just hadn’t stopped showing up. It was only a short walk from his apartment and he liked the feeling of being around people and noises without having to actually interact with people.
He didn’t remember the first time he noticed that the hipster girl was no longer running the coffee shop - one day he looked up and the sign was different and the counter where he paid had been replaced with an odd shaped island in the middle of the floor, but his table was still there so he paid for the tea (nice enough) and declined the offer of a reward card, and carried on as normal.
He figured that it had changed hands a couple of times since then - the tea was replaced with some chocolate based everything (his least favorite iteration of his cafe) and after that a basic little kitchen in the back made lunches and tried to make it as a tiny restaurant - but that hadn’t lasted too long either.
Then, about 6 months ago, it had changed hands again, and Jack couldn’t help but notice that it was a lot more successful than anything that had tried before. The coffee wasn’t the best - but it was pretty cheap, so he couldn’t really complain about that - but the food…
The food!
He’d noticed one day that he’d walked in and the glass counters were full of pies and pastries, all of them looking perfect and even a little fake - the red-headed guy that served him probably recognized him from all the posters but didn’t make a fuss, just made his coffee and gave him a slice of one of the pies as a “taster” to what they could do. It had been a cherry pie - dark red stained the white plate as the filling oozed out - and ever since then, Jack had ordered a slice of whatever was on special that day.
The only downside to the sinfully amazing pies and cakes though - was that Jack wasn’t the only person who couldn’t get enough. Within a week, the cafe was full of people, often with lines out of the door - and Jack started having to time his arrival to make sure that he got his seat at all.
Pie boxes were handed over the counter two and three at a time - the kitchen no longer seemed to have a ‘quiet’ period anymore, churning out perfect examples of desserts at all times.
Jack saw the red-headed guy (his nametag said “Dex” and he made a conscious effort not to treat Jack any different from anyone else which he appreciated a lot) most days when he arrived, but there were a couple of others that seemed to work there too - a tiny Asian woman who seemed to be the only one who knew how to get the coffee machine to make something other than straight black, and a couple of floppy haired college kids who worked on a shift pattern Jack couldn’t work out. He didn’t care though - only Dex bothered him once he was settled - with refills and the occasional offer of more pie. Jack got the feeling that the college kids didn’t even notice him tucked in the corner, and that suited him just fine.
He was working on his thesis - part time correspondence courses for the last 6 years of his life had been leading up to this and he wasn’t going to screw it up - when someone sat down on the chair across from him and started talking.
“I swear, it’s hotter’n hell back there - the darn air-con blew out for the second time this week.” The man said, accent oddly out of place in Providence, southern and smooth. When Jack looked over the top of his screen he couldn’t help but blink.
He was short - compact, maybe, rather than small - with honey blond hair and a slight turned up nose that made him look a bit younger than he might otherwise have seemed. Large brown eyes and thick eyelashes, and a stripe of flour over one eyebrow. Jack could see the beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, not enough to make him look anything other than glowing with warmth. When Jack started to sweat he looked like a red, blotchy mess.
“I’m gonna have to get Dex to fix it up or buy a new one.” The man said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows with fine blond hairs dusting a very defined forearm. “Just when you think the devil is lookin’ the other way, huh?” He said, with a rueful smile at Jack.
Jack, not sure what the correct thing to do was when one of the cutest guys he’d seen outside of models or TV was smiling at him, nodded dumbly. “Yeah.” He managed, after what was probably too long a pause to be anywhere near polite.
The smaller man didn’t seem to notice though, giving another sigh and looking out at the people who were getting served. The ling wasn’t as long has it had been when Jack had first arrived, but there were still a few people - one or two he actually recognized from his time sitting at his table.
A doctor, still wearing his scrubs and looking half asleep as he ordered an extra large coffee and a selection of small pastries, looking oddly familiar to Jack - not one of his doctors, that was for sure, but still a face he knew from somewhere - and a slightly short guy behind him wearing a woolen beanie hat that had an autumn leaf clinging to the back of it. He came in a lot, sat down by the window and wrote in an expensive looking moleskin notebook. “I’m real glad that people like us though,” The man said, turning back to look at Jack, “Bit of a big risk with how quick most of the places around her turnover.”
“This is better than the hipster place.” Jack blurted out - feeling the heat rise to his face as the smaller man smiled at him, warmer than the kitchen behind them. “I mean. Uh.”
“Oh no, you can’t take it back now,” He said, with a grin. “I assume that was one of the places here before us?”
Jack found himself nodding. “She played weird music and the coffee was terrible.”
The blond man nodded and laughed a little. “Well, we don’t play any weird music, but I know our coffee leaves a lot to be desired. Only Lardo knows how to make the machine do what it’s supposed to do, and she’s always too busy to show anyone else how it works.” A pause. “We inherited it from the last owners and the manual is in French so ya’ll know we aint gonna be doin’ fancy coffees for a while yet.”
Jack wasn’t sure why he said it - wasn’t even aware he was talking until the words were already out of his mouth - but it was too late. “I speak French. I could try to translate it for you?”
The blond man was called Eric Bittle, although he insisted that Jack call him “Bitty” and he owned the cafe. He’d been delighted by Jacks unthinking offer of looking over the instructions to the overly complicated coffee machine, but insisted that it would wait for another time when Jack wasn’t working on…
“What is it your working on anyway?” Bitty asked, nodding at the laptop. “Every time I pop my head outta the kitchen you’re tappin away. I hope I’m not stopping you from writing a best seller or anything.”
Jack shook his head a little too fast at that, unable to hide the slight smile that Bitty seemed to be able to tease out of him. “I’m, uh, trying to get my degree.” He found himself admitting. He didn’t tell a lot of people that - felt he was too old to be at school, taking nearly 6 years to completed something that most people had done in 4.
“Oh!” Bitty said, and Jack couldn’t help but think he looked a little surprised, but not in a bad way. “I came up this way for school but it didn’t quite turn out like I expected. Ended up working full time in the local cafe before branching out here.” He nodded at the laptop still open on the table between them. “You get back to work and I’ll have Dex bring you over some more pie. Gotta keep that brain of yours well fueled.”
When Jack arrived at the rink the next day, he had a pie box with half an apple pie in it and a thick wad of papers that was apparently the only instruction booklet that Bitty could find for the coffee machine. He’d already eaten more than his fair share of pie as he’d worked through the day, but Bitty had insisted that he take the apple and maple pie that had been put aside. “Call it payment in advance!” He grinned, handing it over with a flourish, “Plenty more where that came from if you can help with the stupid coffee machine.”
Jack had warned him that it wasn’t something he’d be able to do overnight - he’d be heading out of town the next day for a week, but Bitty hadn’t seemed too concerned. “No one can read it anyway, take as long as you need.”
“What is this, Zimmboni?” Tater asked, because he was part bloodhound, Jack was sure, and could sniff out any treats within seconds of them arriving. “Bringing gifts for your best buddy Tater?”
Jack just rolled his eyes. “It’s from the new bakery near my apartment.” He said, putting it on the counter and heading to the juicing station. “I was talking to the owner last night and he insisted I take it.”
The giant Russian lifted the lid off the box and paused, looking at what Jack knew, was an intricate lattice pie, with crystallized golden sugar on the top. He glanced over at their teammates, starting to filter in for the day, and closed the lid carefully. “Looks horrible.” He said, screwing up his face. “Will do favor to everyone and eat it all myself.”
“You are a selfless hero,” Jack deadpanned, as Tater gave him a wink - only to be interrupted by Marty calling over.
“Is that one of Bittles pie boxes?”
“Net!” Tater said, lifting the box and turning his back on everyone, trying to hide the box from view.
“Liar. I know his boxes. Gabby loves that place. She had me drive over there at 5am one morning because she saw his Instagram post about a honey and rhubarb slice.” He said, glaring at Taters back. “They were sold out before I got to the front of the queue.”
“Jack brought it for me.”
“I brought it for everyone.” Jack pointed out, before taking a deep drink of the murky green juice he’d been making. “I was talking to Bitty last night and he made me take it.”
“Wait.” Marty said, holding up a hand. “Are you telling me you have a direct line of supply to Bittles? Jack, my wife is pregnant. She nearly cried on me when I came home without a rhubarb slice.”
“Is this the lil blond guy everyone is going on about on Instagram?” Snowy asked, looking up from his phone. “Southern dude with the videos? My mom loves him.” He added, looking at the rest of the team. “She’s been following his shit for years.” A pause. “You know he used to play hockey for a hot second?”
Jack did not know.
This was… this was…
Jack wasn’t sure if knowing that the cutest guy he’d ever seen also played hockey was a good thing (his brain added up all the little facts he’d picked up about the baker - the compact muscle, the strong arms. Close to the ground probably meant he’d be fast too…) or a bad thing (did he know who Jack was and that was why he’d been so nice?)
“You gotta share, Tates.” Marty was arguing. “I outrank you.”
“Am taller. Will crush you.”
“I’ll tell Georgia you’re cheating on your diet sheet again.”
A hurt gasp. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Share, then.”
Jack let them argue over the box, which was eventually divided up into equal portions, overseen by Marty. Jack had to admit, it was worth the wait.
Snowy, it turned out, knew more about Eric Bittle than he let on. He sat beside Jack on the plane while Tater slept, curled up to one side, and sheepishly smiled.
“Uh, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” Jack nodded, not quite sure where the conversation was going. Although he was co-captain, Snowy didn’t often seek him out.
“What was he like?” He said, after a few moments. “Uh, Eric? The baker guy.”
Jack paused. He hadn't expected that at all - Snowy though, seemed to take his pause for something more than just surprise. “I just… you know. Like, I’ve seen some of his viedos, you know? Uh, he’s… um...He just seems like he would be nice, you know?” He didn’t seem to pause for breath before he carried on. “Do you think it would be weird for me to go to the bakery just to like, meet him?”
“Meet him?” Jack asked confused.
“Yeah, like… say hi.”
Jack couldn’t help but frown in confusion. “But why?” He asked, “I didn’t think you were all that interested in baking?”
“Jack.” Snow said, looking pained. “He’s cute as hell.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s the reason my mom told me it would be okay for me to be like, into guys.” Snowy said, after rolling his eyes at Jack for a second. “She saw how his parents reacted to him coming out and wanted to make sure that I didn’t go through anything like that.”
“Oh,” Jack said. “I didn’t know that.” Snowy wasn’t hiding the fact that he was bisexual, the team all knew - but he wasn’t out like Jack was. Didn’t want to go through the same shit. Jack didn’t blame him at all. “We aren’t close or anything?” He added, feeling like perhaps he needed to clear things up. “He just started talking to me yesterday.” He paused. “But when we get back you can come to the bakery with me, if you want, sure.”
The smile he got in return was worth the uncomfortable feeling he got in the pit of his stomach about introducing his admittedly very attractive team-mate to the ridiculously attractive baker. Weird.
Jack didn’t want to notice that Snowy had put a bit more of an effort into his clothes when he arrived at the apartment door the day Jack text him to advise he was going to head out to Bittles. He didn’t comment on his own neatly pressed shirt either, or how he’d carefully styled his hair to look a little less like he’d just fallen out of bed.
They kept up a steady stream of conversation as they walked to the bakery - although they weren’t particularly close, they did get on - and they were both still riding the high of scoring twice in the last game, trading chirps as they walked.
As usual, the cafe part of the bakery was bustling, but (Jack noticed, with a grin) that his table, tucked just out of sight, was still free.
He waved over the heads of the people in the line to Dex, who nodded briefly before going back to serving, and motioned Snowy to sit.
“I come here a lot,” Jack admitted, “This is like my unofficial spot.” He looked over. “When Dex is free he normally brings me like, a coffee and whatever is on special, and I just pay before I leave.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a sweet syst-” Snow started, before looking over Jacks shoulder and freezing in place.
“Well, look who’s back in town,” A smooth, southern lilting voice said from behind Jack. When he turned and looked, there was Eric, looking just as perfect as the last time they’d talked. “I’d started to think that I’d scared you off.”
Jack managed a smile and a slight laugh. “No, not me.”
“Well I’m sure glad of that,” Bitty said, big brown eyes not leaving Jacks face. It made him feel a little wriggly under his skin, almost anxious but without the bad feeling he’d normally associate with that. “And who is this you’ve brought with you today?”
They got along fine. Better than fine. Snowy had Bittys phone number and had made him laugh. Jack wasn’t sure why, but he regretted ever bringing that stupid pie to the rink.
“Did you know, Eric didn’t even recognize us at all?” Snowy was saying as he cut into the pie he’d brought to the rink, perfectly dissecting it into equal slices. “He said he thought he’d seen us somewhere before but just couldn’t place where from.” He laughed as he handed Jack a plate. “He’s a really great guy, huh?”
Jack wasn’t sure why, but the pie tasted like ash in his mouth.
He had a deadline, his thesis was due in a week and although he knew that he was well on track to completing it, the idea of that date looming closer and closer was making him irritable and waspish. He’d tried to work from home, feeling oddly weird about going to the cafe now, but the silence in his apartment was suffocating and he’d gotten used to the background noise. So he’d packed up his laptop and headed out to the bakery.
As usual, it was busy - it had only gotten more so since Jack had handed over the translated instructions for the coffee machine and people could get a proper cup of joe to go along with the pies they ordered.
Jack glared at the machine as he walked past, Dex making it whistle as he worked at making some overly complicated order.
His spot was vacant, which he appreciated, waspishly thinking how nice it was not to have to deal with Snowy making heart eyes over his shoulder as he set up his laptop.
He could have only been typing for about 5 minutes when a steaming cup of coffee and a thick slice of pie was placed on the table beside his laptop.
“You look like you might need this, sweetheart.” Bitty said, sitting in the chair across from the table. “I feel like I oughta apologize for not realisin who you were.” He added. “I thought you looke-”
“Eric,” Jack said, not looking up from his screen and cutting off the shorter man. “I really need to get this done.”
“Oh.”
“Thanks.”
He tried not to notice when Bitty left, tried to ignore the sold weight in his stomach as he carried on typing.
Maybe it was something he ate.
“You know,” Snowy said, as he sat down on the bench beside Jack, who’d only just been benched after too long in the penalty box. “I think you’re really dumb for a smart guy.”
Jack, pissed at himself and the Oilers who just seemed to be pushing all his buttons this game, glared at the younger man, teeth pressing hard into his gum shield.
“Eric text me like, 8 times yesterday, asking if you were okay, and how your thesis went, and if he’d done something to piss you off.”
Jack glared harder. He didn’t want to talk about Bitty. He didn’t want to hear about all the texts he’d been sending to Snowy.
“You know, like 98% of the texts he sends me are about you.” Snowy carried on, seemingly unconcerned with the way Jack had his stick in a death grip. “How is Jack today? Do you know if Jack is going to be at the cafe? Tell Jack I made that maple apple pie he likes.” He paused, then rolled his eyes when Jack didn’t make any response. “Jack, he’s like, super into you. Like, a lot. You idiot.”
They put Jack back on the ice. He scored twice. He couldn’t explain why he just felt better. He wondered if Eric watched the game.
The bakery was never quiet, but Jack knew by now when it was less busy, and he timed it as well as he could. He’d fixed his hair, pressed a nice shirt that fit him well, and wore a pair of jeans that someone on twitter said made his butt look great. He wasn’t quite sure what he should say, but he knew that he had to apologize to Bitty for being such a dick. He didn’t get a smile from Dex when he walked in - the red-headed man seemed to frown even, but his eyes flickered to the small bunch of flowers in Jacks hand and he seemed to relent a little. “You can just go through the back.” He said, after a moment of Jack hovering awkwardly at his normal table. “He’s just cleaning up for the day.”
“Thanks.”
“Hurt him and I’ll poison your coffee.” The red-head added, before turning back to the person at the counter - who was now looking at their own cup with a slightly alarmed expression.
Jack had never been into the kitchen, but he had an image in his mind that wasn’t far off. The cold steel cooling racks or the large industrial ovens though, couldn’t really hold his attention, because there was Eric.
The smaller man had obviously noticed Jack walk in, and was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking at the bunch of roses that Jack was holding in his hand with a faintly hopeful expression.
“I’m apparently really dumb at things.” Jack said, taking a few steps forward, holding out the flowers to Eric. “But once I work out where I go wrong, I always try to do better.” He paused. “I’m sorry I took out my bad mood on you. It wasn’t fair and I’ll try never to do it again. I thought you and Snowy were… I was jealous.”
He handed over the flowers to Bitty, who took them slowly, eyes lifting to his. “I really like you a lot, and I was wondering if you’d like to go out for dinner some time?”
He held his breath as Eric looked at the roses and back up at him, big brown eyes glittering in the harsh lighting of the kitchen. His smile was like the sun coming out after a particularly bad storm, warming Jack to his very core.
“You know what, sweetheart? I’d love that.”
“So this means that you do have a direct line of supply from Bittles?” Marty winked, as Jack handed over a box filled with rhubarb and honey slices, a little note on the top for Gabby. Bitty had insisted that he made them again after Jack told him the story of Marty being made to go to the cafe at 5am for his pregnant wife.
He smiled, and headed out to the rink.