Chapter Text
He’s the most attractive man that Bitty has ever seen, bar none. Well maybe bar that one guy who worked as a waiter at Bitty’s favourite restaurant for a few months and then disappeared. But after that guy, he’s the most attractive man Bitty has ever seen.
Tall. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Horrendous fashion sense (which Bitty has tried to deny for years is a quality he likes in a man but it’s of no use).
He had introduced himself as Jack and Bitty had introduced himself as Bitty and they’d got to talking and drinking and dancing far too close and now they’re on to the kissing. It’s a fabulous turn of events considering Bitty wasn’t even sure he was going to come out tonight. When Jack kisses him, Bitty’s body comes alive. When Jack’s tongue presses into Bitty’s lips, his toes tingle. When Jack’s big, strong hands wrap around his hips, Bitty forgets to breathe.
When Bitty loses his balance because of lack of oxygen to his brain from the forgetting-to-breathe, Jack’s hands are there to steady him. He does stop the kissing though, which is a terrible side-effect that Bitty will have to remember to avoid in the future.
“Are you okay?” Jack asks with his beautiful voice and beautiful eyes that show the sincerity of the question.
“Yes, yes I’m...more than okay,” Bitty tells Jack, smiling.
“Me too,” Jack says, before kissing Bitty again.
Bitty makes sure to keep breathing this time.
Jack’s chest is firm beneath Bitty’s palms and he’s pretty certain he can feel actual abs beneath his t-shirt. If they weren’t at a public party he’d be inclined to lift Jack’s shirt to check. He tries to stretch Jack’s t-shirt tight against his torso to see if he can see a six-pack, which is when he instead notices the time on his watch.
“Oh my gosh! It’s so late.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack apologises, immediately. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”
“Oh, no. No.” Bitty pats Jack’s firm chest to reassure him and also because he’s starting to suspect it might be an eight-pack. “I was enjoying myself.”
“Me too.” Jack’s smile is what one might call ‘disarming’.
Bitty’s heart flutters, but he tries to ignore it or else he’s never letting Jack go.
“I’m sorry. I really have to head home.” Bitty had promised himself no more late nights before work this year.
“Of course.”
Bitty bites his lip and looks at Jack. He doesn’t want this to be the last time he gets to do that. Jack’s eyes are too pretty to be trapped in a memory. Luckily, there are steps he can take to avoid that.
“Annie’s hosts a trivia night every second Tuesday,” Bitty tells Jack. “It’s on next week. Would you like...I mean. I’ll be here.”
“Next Tuesday?” Jack asks.
Bitty nods. “Starts at seven. You should bring some friends."
Jack smiles. It’s a little lopsided but a lot effective. Bitty’s stomach goes up, flips, and drops back down. “I can do that.”
-
Bitty’s been walking with a spring in his step since the other night. Even the horrors of his early morning commute can’t shake the memory of kissing Jack and touching Jack and talking with Jack and just...Jack.
So he thinks it’s his mind playing a trick on him at first. But then he sees it a second time and he can play that off as being really into Jack, but then the third time happens and Bitty has to confront it.
He stands on the sidewalk by the bus stop and stares at it.
“Well shit,” he says out loud. The father beside him with the toddler shoots him a death glare.
“Sorry,” Bitty says, then hides his face behind his coffee cup.
Maybe if he shuts his eyes then looks again? He tries it and the result is still the same.
Jack’s face is on the side of a bus.
Jack’s face is on the side of a bus .
There’s a little line at the bottom of the banner; ‘Jack Zimmermann, Captain of the Providence Falconers’.
They had talked so much the other night —or at least equal parts talking and kissing —and Bitty can’t believe this never came up, but it certainly didn’t. He’d remember making out with a sports star.
The bus pulls away at the same time Bitty’s phone starts ringing.
“Hi, Shitty,” Bitty answers after checking the caller ID.
“Hey. Where you at?” Bitty’s co-worker and friend asks. “I thought you were working today?”
“I am,” Bitty confirms. “I just got off the bus. Be there soon.”
“Alrighty. You’re not normally late, is all, and I wanted to check you hadn’t been murdered.”
Bitty checks the time on his watch, tilting his head so not to spill the coffee. Shit. Had he really stared at the ad for that long?
“Oh my god! I am so sorry,” Bitty apologises, starting to speed-walk. “I’m hurrying. I’ll be there soon.”
“It’s all good. It’s slow at the moment, and Robards isn’t in yet.”
“Thank goodness.”
-
Bitty’s flustered when he gets in to work. He unloads his bag in the staff room and joins Shitty at the main desk in the library, sliding in through the gap between the large semi-circle desk and the wall.
“Woah. Bitty.” Shitty’s eyes widen, taking in Bitty’s harsh breathing and hair in disarray; a very unusual look for him.
“I know,” Bitty replies.
“I did tell you it was slow, right?” Shitty waves a paperback in his direction. “You didn’t need to rush in.”
“I felt bad.” Bitty picks up a flyer for their book club night from the display on the counter and starts fanning himself with it.
“Well now that you’re here, I’m going to go do some reshelving.”
“Sounds good. I’m gonna-” Bitty keeps fanning himself and gestures to his chair.
“All good, my man.”
Shitty wheels their return trolley away into the stacks and Bitty collapses inelegantly onto his chair. He rolls it across to his computer and launches Google, checking no-one is around before he types in ‘Jack Zimmermann’ and hits enter.
Bitty clicks over to the image page first just to be 100% certain. There’s no denying it. The Jack he was making out with at Annie’s is definitely Jack Zimmermann.
Feeling shady enough with just that small search, Bitty closes the window and leans back in his chair.
“So that’s…a thing. I made out with Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty says aloud to himself. He rolls the flyer up in his hands and whacks it on his thigh, brain immediately questioning everything from that night and what it meant to him and what it meant to Jack. He does not come to an optimistic conclusion about what Jack Zimmermann was looking for from a night out at a costume party.
“It’s not the end of the world,” he tells himself, nodding. “He’s just...and you’re just... So it’s probably -” Bitty groans and rubs at his forehead. “Nothing. It’s probably nothing.”
Jack’s a famous athlete making millions of dollars and Bitty works in a library. There’s no way Jack will want to pursue something with Bitty, because that’s not how reality works. He’s probably going to meet some other athlete at some gala dinner and Bitty will be left lonely in his big bed again. He knew he shouldn’t have splashed out and bought that when he got his raise.
-
Bitty sees Jack another two times on various adverts around the city —which really drives home the idea that Jack exists in a world far separate from Bitty’s own —before he sees him in the flesh again. Bitty is not prepared. Trivia isn’t for another few nights and Bitty’s still in the process of psyching himself up for it.
Bitty is at peak ‘end-of-the-week’ look —bags under his eyes and hair due for a wash —when Jack walks into the library where Bitty works.
Bitty ducks under the desk so fast he gets a head rush.
“Um…” Shitty looks down to where Bitty has squashed himself against the rounded wall of the desk, out of sight. “What’s going on?”
Bitty shrugs. “Nothing. Just felt like sitting down.”
“Okay. I can respect.” Shitty nods. “But, uh...” he gently pushes Bitty’s chair over to him.
Bitty eyes it. “The ground’s good.”
“Are you hiding?”
Bitty bites his lip.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” Shitty looks out from the desk across the library. “Who from?”
Bitty has an answer, it just needs a lot of backstory to make sense. Backstory which he has not told Shitty.
“A guy,” he hedges instead.
“Because?”
Bitty screws his eyes shut, hoping to turn invisible. “Reasons.”
“Do I know them?”
“Of them,” Bitty admits reluctantly.
“ Of them?” Shitty repeats.
“Yes.” Bitty peeks up at Shitty. He’s still looking out across the library.
“So I should be able to spot them now?”
Bitty wishes Shitty is as terrible as he was that night at putting a name to the face. It’s futile. It’s like a mild superpower of Shitty’s to remember names and faces. If Bitty had it, he wouldn’t be crouching under the desk, weighed down with embarrassment.
“I’m looking, I’m looking,” Shitty narrates above him. “I’m not seeing anyone that I-” He cuts off.
Bitty opens an eye to see what’s going on.
Shitty’s jaw has dropped. “Brah,” he says emphatically. “That’s Jack Zimmermann .”
Bitty presses his head against the front wall of the desk under the counter. Shitty wheels his chair over to Bitty.
“You’re hiding from Jack Zimmermann ?” Shitty whispers, eyes wide.
Bitty mimes for Shitty to keep his voice down. It’s futile as Shitty is still staring across the room, probably at the aforementioned Mr. Zimmermann.
“Bits. That’s a hockey legend . His ass is famous. Youngest captain ever of an NHL team, he’s won the Art Ross -”
“ I know all of this now ,” Bitty hisses, trying to shut Shitty up.
“Wait?” Shitty drops his head to look at him. “You know now ? You didn’t know that earlier?”
“Well, I mean-” Shitty raises his eyebrows. “Fine. No. But then I saw his face on an ad on the bus and that cleared up some things.”
“Oh, wait. I’m having a brainwave. Is that why you turned down those tickets to the Falconers fundraiser game the other week?” Shitty asks.
“No, actually. And stop looking down here. I’m trying to be incognito.”
Shitty lifts his head back up but keeps their conversation going. “How’d you even meet that guy?”
“Um. Oh well, you know how it goes,” Bitty says in what he hopes is a breezy tone. “One minute you’re kissing an attractive guy at a costume party and then a few mornings later you see that same face on a bus, only without the cat ears.”
Shitty emits a strangled gasp and abandons his chair to drop down beside Bitty.
“What are you doing?!” Bitty demands.
“There is so much to unpack in that sentence,” Shitty replies. “This was last week and you haven’t told me a single thing?”
“You’ve been caught up with wedding prep,” Bitty points out, hoping to shift him to that topic.
“There is always time to hear about sex-capades.”
Bitty shudders. “Really? We’re going with that phrase?”
“And why is it that you’re hiding?” Shitty glosses over the comment. “Did he say something. Did you say something? What happened?”
Shitty’s interrogation is interrupted by someone ding-ing the old-fashioned bell on the counter.
Bitty cocks his head sharply to Shitty.
Shitty shakes his head back.
What if it’s Jack , Bitty mouths.
Shitty’s thumbs-up followed by a cruder gesture is not appreciated.
“Uh, hello? Is someone there?”
Bitty’s head swivels to look up at the underside of the counter. He doesn’t need x-ray vision to know who’s standing there.
Shitty tugs on his sleeve. Jack , he mouths.
Bitty nods.
There’s a minor tussle as Shitty tries to force Bitty up and Bitty holds on for dear life to the dividers under the desk until he accidentally kicks Shitty’s desk chair and alerts Jack to their presence.
“Please,” Bitty whispers. “I’ll do the cake for the rehearsal dinner.”
Shitty narrows his eyes. “Three-layer minimum,” Shitty barters quickly.
Bitty shakes his head. “Two.”
“Done.” Shitty springs up while Bitty stays crouched beneath the table.
“Hi. Sorry ‘bout that. Dropped a pen.” Bitty would roll his eyes were he not concentrating so hard on not making a sound. “What can I do you for?”
“I’m trying to find a cookbook by Margaret Fulton. It’s on the system but there’s no number next to it.”
Bitty blinks. He knows that book, and he’s certain he knows how Jack heard of it.
“Ah, sorry about that. We’re upgrading the system and there’s been some bugs,” Shitty apologises. “Anyway. Cooking isn’t my area of expertise.” Shitty nudges Bitty with his foot. Bitty slaps it back. “But let me come round and help. It should be in 642.”
Bitty pinches Shitty’s calf, then holds up his fingers for 6-4-1.
“641. I’ll show you.”
Bitty holds his breath until he can hear Shitty’s voice disappearing into the stacks. He then very calmly goes on his lunch break.
-
After his close encounter with Jack at the library, Tuesday comes around far too quickly and Bitty's still not sure if he even wants to go to the trivia night. He's made peace with the fact that he and Jack live in separate worlds —though apparently not so separate that Jack doesn’t frequent the library that Bitty works at —and the possibility of something between them is zero. Well, he's started to make peace. It would probably be easier if he hadn't signed up for Falconers alerts on his Twitter and Instagram.
He goes back and forth on the benefits of staying home and not having his fears of Jack's rejection confirmed, acknowledging that since he asked Jack he's obliged to be there even as just friends, and hoping that if he does go Jack will confess he has feelings for Bitty.
He contemplates calling Shitty but can already predict what he'll say and while it would be lovely to hear Shitty's confidence in him, Bitty is trying to be realistic for once in his romantic life.
Bitty groans and pulls himself off the couch he'd stalled on as he was going to leave.
"What are you doing? You already know what this is." Bitty moves around the room re-grabbing his stuff. "You invited him tonight so you have to go but you'll make it clear to him you're not expecting anything and that'll be that. Goodbye, Jack."
Bitty ignores the clench of his heart at the thought.
Of course, by the time he's thought through it all and talked himself out of and then back into seeing Jack, Bitty has completely missed the actual trivia.
He peeks in through the window at Annie’s when he gets there, trying to spot Jack. He knows he'll get drawn into conversation if he steps inside and he's a man with one particular mission tonight. He's already derailed himself with all his doubting and second guessing.
He spots Jack easily because his eyes seem to have developed a magnetism toward him after just one night. Bitty's relieved Jack seems to be at a table with people he knows. Judging from their size and manner of dress, also hockey players.
The door to Annie's opens then and Bitty ducks around into the nearby alleyway, trying to avoid being seen as everyone leaves. He listens out as people spill onto the sidewalk, conversations drifting into the night air. It’s a good few minutes before a certain voice pulls him out of hiding.
When Bitty steps out of the alley, Jack's there watching some guys get into a car and drive away. Bitty wonders why he doesn't go with them. His romantic heart wonders if it's because Jack is waiting for him to show still, but he probably just lives close and is walking home.
Bitty fixes his hair in the side mirror of a parked car then steps up to Jack.
“Jack.”
Jack spins around, caught unaware. A smile spreads slowly across his face. He's genuinely happy to see Bitty. It makes Bitty feel bad for avoiding him the other day in the library.
“Bitty.” Jack walks over to him. “You did come.”
“I did. I'm sorry I missed the trivia.”
“That doesn't—it's fine.” Jack comes to a stop in front of Bitty. “We won anyway.”
“Oh.”
“Not that I wouldn't have liked to have you there,” Jack rushes to say. “Winning wasn't why I came here tonight.”
“It wasn’t, was it?” Bitty’s tone comes out husky. He didn't mean to come on so strong with the flirting. In fact, he’s meant to be doing the opposite—let Jack know it’s cool that there’s not a future for them (even though it’s anything but). There’s something in Jack's eyes and his smile and his hair that brings out the flirt in Bitty.
Jack steps in and Bitty has to tilt his head to look into his eyes.
“It wasn't.” Jack says. “I wanted to see you again.” He delivers it not like a line, but as an earnest statement of fact. Bitty swoons.
“Here I am.”
Jack hums. It becomes clear that he's going to kiss Bitty. Bitty does the selfish thing and lets him before he remembers himself and pulls back.
“Wait. I was going to tell you why I almost didn't come.”
Bitty keeps his hands pressed to Jack's hard chest. He's not a martyr.
“Alright.” Jack's hands flex on Bitty’s hips, sending sparks up his spine.
“I had a really great time the night we met.” Jack grins and Bitty has to look away so he can continue. “And I wanted to see you again. Obviously, because I told you I'd be here. Anyway. So it's not, I mean, well I didn't know that—So when I asked and—Wow.” Bitty interrupts himself. “I'm not doing this well.”
“Take your time,” Jack offers politely.
Bitty clears his throat. “I saw your face on an ad on the bus.”
Jack groans. “Was it that TAG Heuer ad? That one's terrible.”
“No, it was the Montblonc one. But, actually, hold up,” Bitty says, holding his hands up and stepping back. Jack’s hands drop off his hips. “You don't care that I know? That you’re... you ?”
“You mean Jack Zimmermann ?” Jack questions.
Bitty shrugs and nods at once which feels awkward and probably looks worse.
“Of course I don’t care. I would have told you anyway.” Jack smiles and lifts his hands onto Bitty’s hips again. Bitty’s skin tingles.
“Plus, this way?” Jack continues. “I get to skip the part where I'm awkward about telling you about it.”
“And you don't care that I didn't know the other night?” Bitty checks. It’s hard to get the sentence out because half his brain is so distracted that Jack’s fingers are running along the hem of his pants.
Jack shakes his head, still smiling.
“Really? Because I was getting all worried you didn't want me to know you were Jack Zimmermann.”
Jack laughs. “I am Jack Zimmermann. And I can assure you that I very much want you to know.”
Bitty nods slowly, needing to process Jack’s reaction, or non-reaction. He’s totally calm about it and Bitty instead is the one who has been worked up and worried for the past week. He’s realising he may have jumped to an incorrect conclusion.
There’s a wooden bench two stores down from Annie’s. Bitty makes his way over to it to give himself some breathing room away from Jack’s hands.
“I feel like I misjudged a lot of what happened that night,” Bitty says as Jack sits beside him.
Jack tilts his head. “How so?”
“Well, it's —I -” Bitty sighs. “This is going to sound really horrible now.”
“I'm sure I've heard worse on the ice.”
“Okay. Okay. But if this does offend you, it’s fine if you don't want to talk to me anymore.”
Jack nods. “Unlikely, but go on.”
Bitty looks away from Jack, down to the pavement. “When I found out who you were, I assumed we were kinda like a one night thing. Because the fame and the money and the good looks. I assumed it didn’t mean that much to you.”
“You think I'm good looking?” Jack asks.
Bitty lifts his eyes and sees that Jack's humouring him.
Bitty narrows his eyes. “They put your face on buses.”
“Yours is bus-worthy also,” Jack jokes before turning serious. He bumps his pinky finger against Bitty's on the bench. “It did mean something to me.”
“Me too,” Bitty replies simply, not wanting to mince words.
“Bitty?” Jack angles his body in to Bitty’s. He slips his hand over the top of Bitty’s and the heat rushes all the way from Bitty’s fingers to his cheeks. “The truth is, I came here tonight because you said you'd be here and I wanted to ask you out.”
Bitty's stomach flips. “Oh. Well. Okay.”
“Okay.” Jack smiles, slow and gentle. “Would you like to go out with me?”
Bitty takes a breath and nods firmly. “Yes.”
“Even though I'm a famous and wealthy hockey player with an ass that won't quit?” Jack’s eyes twinkle playfully.
Bitty pokes Jack’s arm. “I did not say that last part.”
“But you were thinking it, eh?”
Bitty feels his cheeks heat even more. He kinda was.