Chapter Text
Eric finds out Jack’s secret completely by accident.
Everyone who’s anyone knows that Eric “Bitty” Bittle is the head of the hockey team’s caregivers. He’s smart, kind, and knows just what to do in a pinch. He’s patient, loyal, and never lets a Little go unhappy, even if he isn’t their caregiver. There was talk amongst a lot of the staff to see about hiring him with the school once he graduated, to keep a one in a million caregiver like Eric Bittle on hand.
Eric Bittle can calm a Little down mid tantrum. Eric Bittle knew lullabies to put even the fussiest Little to sleep. Eric Bittle brought cookies into class to pass around to Littles who weren’t quite ready to be adults for the day just yet, gave them hugs and toys before class started and saw to it that they were comfortable.
Eric Bittle wasn’t Jack Zimmermann’s caregiver.
Jack hated that he was never allowed to be as open or free as Eric. Eric could be himself unabashedly, unapologetically, could take care of everyone around him without breaking a sweat and Jack struggled sometimes just to keep from dropping his head into Bittle’s lap. It was maddening. Infuriating.
He’d already cried once about it, Jack didn’t feel like doing it again, even when he really wanted to.
It was easily ignored when Eric didn’t live in the haus, but now he does and Jack has to pretend he isn’t completely losing it sometimes, throwing tantrums mentally when he can’t show it outwardly. All of the things that comfort him are locked away where no one can accidentally stumble on them, and Jack just suffers through the day without anything to ground him.
He sees the way Bittle treats some of the other Littles and it makes Jack jealous. When he sees Ransom get stickers for making it through his Chem class, when Jack sees Holster curl up against Bittle’s side after watching 30 Rock. When the quarterback shows up at the Haus doorstep asking Bittle if he saw his game, excited, and Bittle tells him he did and invites him in for a slice of pie.
It leaves Jack feeling absolutely empty and he can’t call his parents and talk to them about it because it took too much convincing for them to let him go to college alone. Jack lives his life in a constant state of wanting to be just himself and being unable to show anyone the kind of weakness he has.
“Jack? You alright, hun?”
Bittle’s voice breaks through Jack’s thoughts. They’re alone in the kitchen, Jack supposed to be working on an essay and Bittle making pies.
“Fine,” Jack mumbles, and then he sniffs, and then Jack realizes that things are about to go downhill fast.
Bittle can never turn his caregiver side off, and without a second thought he turns off the range and is at Jack’s side, kneeling. Jack sniffs again, brings his hands up to try to wipe away the tears that are bubbling over, hiccups a bit.
“Oh, honey, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” Bittle says, coos practically. Jack can’t seem to say anything just yet, but Bittle touches his knee in a silent question, his arms raising.
Jack sobs hard as he falls into Bittle’s embrace with the kind of practiced ease that makes Bittle go, “Oh.”
“Sweetheart, why didn’t you say anything? It’s probably been months since anyone’s held you.” Bittle rubs Jack’s back, makes him feel small somehow. Jack’s sobbing subsides to sniffling here and there. Bittle hums him a song, something light and quick that makes Jack sleepy. He isn’t sure how long they stay in the kitchen like that, but Jack’s eyelids droop heavily.
“Thank you,” Jack mumbles, sighing. Bittle shakes his head.
“You don’t have to thank me, Jack Laurent. You’re always welcome to a little love,” Bittle promises. He stands them up and closes Jack’s laptop. The essay would have to wait.
“Come on. Do you have any stuffed toys, honey?”
Jack looks away, feeling guilty for the answer because he did, just the one, and he missed Puck so much. Bittle—And it feels weird to call him that now, Jack realizes—frowns up at him.
“If you don’t you can borrow Señor Bun. I’ve had him for years and he is the sweetest thing.”
Bittle leads Jack up the stairs and heads to his bedroom. Jack wants to pull away and go to his. He wants to hide, because he feels bad for needing comfort when he’s supposed to be the team’s golden boy. Bittle doesn’t let his hand go. He opens his door and pulls Jack inside and Jack sees the true extent that Bittle goes to to keep the team’s Littles happy.
The room is littered with toys and soft patterned clothing. There are pacifiers lying around along with bottles, a few of them still full of what Jack thinks is apple juice. The shelves around his desk are filled in with a number of children’s books. Cars, dolls, and stuffed animals are all over the carpet, and the soft pastel colors from different posters Bittle’s put up keep the room’s atmosphere friendly.
“Have a seat on the bed, honey, do you need a change of clothes?” Bittle asks. Jack looks at the bed and sees a soft duvet and handmade quilt, both equally enticing to lie on. He spies the stuffed bunny Bittle mentioned and immediately his attention is drawn to it.
Eric’s turned around for just a moment, his mind racing to try to figure out what a Little like Jack would need. He picks up one of the oversized shirts he’d sewn together ages ago (for Holster, originally, until Holster decided he didn’t want a blue one anymore). It’s covered in hockey sticks and pucks, custom fabric Eric had special ordered.
Eric turns back around, shirt in hand, and has to cover his mouth to keep from cooing too loudly. Jack is curled up on his bed, snuggled down into the blankets, Señor Bun clutched tightly to his chest. Eric wants to find his phone and take a picture, add it to the album he has of all his teammates being adorable. He doesn’t, because he doesn’t know if anyone else knows Jack is a Little and isn’t too keen to be the person to let that secret out.
“Jack, honey, do you wanna change into somethin’ else?” Eric asks again, his voice softer now.
“Mm.” Jack blinks his sleepy blues open again, tired from his crying session now. He sees the shirt Bittle has in his hands and his eyes light up. “Yeah.”
“Come on then, sugar, sit up. We’ll get you changed, do you want anything to drink? I could run downstairs and get some juice,” Bittle offers.
Jack shakes his head and then reaches for Bittle. He hesitates for a second, a war happening in his mind between his desire to never be seen so vulnerable and his need to be taken care of. In the end, his needs win out, though, and Bittle doesn’t help by stepping closer to run a hand through Jack’s hair.
“You’re being very good right now,” Bittle praises. Now Jack thinks he can never leave.
“Can I…?” The rest of Jack’s question hangs in the air, but Bittle interprets it easy. Without even a blink, Jack finds himself being stripped and redressed faster than he can fully comprehend. Bittle debates between pulling Jack’s pants off for him and letting Jack do it, and eventually decides Jack should do it. He turns around briefly to give Jack the privacy he needs.
Jack takes a second to realize why Bittle is turned away from him. He feels a little slow on the uptake when he realizes it’s because he has to take off his own pants. Bittle is considerate enough to stay faced away until Jack tugs at his shirt, and then he whirls back around and takes Jack’s face in hand.
“Are you sleepy? You wanna take a nap, honey?” Bittle asks. Jack nods, but he tugs at Bittle’s shirt again.
“With you…” he mumbles. Bittle smiles and pulls the blankets back on the bed.
“Of course, sugar. You lay down, I’m gonna change into something else too.” Bittle goes towards the closet while Jack gets comfortable between the sheets. He reaches for Señor Bun, pulls the stuffed animal close and hugs it tight.
Bittle returns to the bed after a moment, changed into a pair of soft pajama bottoms and a plain red shirt with Samwell written on the front in white. He climbs into the bed next to Jack and Jack doesn’t really have to ask if he can put his head in Bittle’s lap. Bittle pushes at his shoulder and moves Jack himself, a hand able to easily reach Jack’s back to give it a rub in slow circles.
Jack falls asleep like that, Señor Bun held in one hand and his other balled into Bittle’s shirt.
Eric doesn’t think about what this means for now. He thinks maybe he wasn’t supposed to know this about Jack, but it’s too late at this point. He’s not going to neglect Jack anymore, especially when it’s so obvious that Jack hasn’t been getting the right care for a long time now. Months at least.
Eric resolves to keep Jack happy, even if it’s the last thing he does.