Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jack didn’t follow too many things but he did follow hockey religiously which is why he always had it opened in a tab in internet explorer. He refused to download the app but would check updated scores whenever he wasn’t able to watch the game. As it was the internet, he would often get adds and most of the time he ignored them, everyone did. But one day he saw an ad for a shirt that said ‘Save a moose, ride a cowboy’ he couldn’t stop his laugher at it. He clicked on the ad without really thinking. He didn’t know how to screenshot anything, so he instead left his room to knock on Shitty’s door. Shitty opened it, “Jackabelle! What’s hanging, my dude?” Jack showed him his phone, still laughing. Shitty had to take his phone so he could look at what Jack was trying to show him since his hands were shaking.

It was such a dad thing to do, show up at his door laughing uncontrollably over a shirt, an ad, no less, “You Canadian bastard, you,” He handed him his phone back. While Shitty didn’t find the actual shirt funny, he found the idea of Jack wearing the shirt hilarious. He filed the knowledge away for later. Jack finally calmed down. For a moment, Shitty felt lucky because he knew how Jack was, he knew that he didn’t show this side of himself to everyone, but Shitty got to see it. He watched as Jack disappeared back into his room. As soon as the door was closed, Shitty leaped onto his bed and bought the shirt- in Samwell red, of course.

The shirt came about a week later. Shitty enthusiastically knocked on Jack’s door until it opened, “Shits, what is-“ Shitty pushed past Jack and into his room where he flopped onto the bed, holding out the package, “Here, got something for you,”

Jack raised an eyebrow. He sat down beside Shitty and opened it slowly. He unfolded the shirt and stared at it for a moment before chuckling, “You didn’t!” He looked at Shitty, “It’s great!” He dropped his arms into his lap, still holding onto the shoulders of the shirt, “Now I just need to find the occasions to wear it.”

Shitty nudged Jack with his foot, “Put it on now! Lemma see, you beautiful Canadian, you,”

Jack tugged his shirt off, and Shitty whistled as he did. Jack rolled his eyes, “Shut up,” He pulled the new shirt over his head. It was just a little tight, but it hugged his chest wonderfully, which was exactly what Shitty was going for, “You look great, man!” He clapped Jack on the shoulder after he stood up from the bed, “If I were just a little bit gay, I would take you up on that offer so fast.”

Jack smiled, his face softening, “Thanks, Shits,” Shitty just stood there staring at his friend until Jack said, “Get out now,” And he quickly scurried out.

Jack wore the shirt around the Haus mostly, because he didn’t see a reason to wear it out and about. He did, however, wear it out one day when he and Bitty were going to be going to Annie’s. It was a warm day despite the snow falling to the ground, a fact that Bitty did often fight. “Jack! It’s not ‘nice’! It’s forty!” “Forty is nice, Bittle!” Still, he grabbed a light jacket (because he wasn’t insane), however, he wrapped it around his waist instead of putting it on. He was in his room, Bitty in his own and they were talking across the hallway. When he walked out into the hall, Bitty was waiting for him. The only visible part of Bitty was his eyes, as he was so bundled up everything else was covered underneath layers. Jack could see Bitty look over his chest, reading the words. He couldn't see the smile on Bitty's face but he could hear it, “Jack Zimmermann! Is that a sex joke on your shirt?” He was giggling in between the words he spoke and Jack couldn’t stop the warmth that was spreading through his chest. It confused him, so he tried not to think about it too much.

He chuckled, “Might be. C’mon. Annie’s calling our names, eh?” He started down the hall, Bitty following after him, “Aren’t you going to put that on?” He gestured vaguely at the jacket wrapped around Jack’s middle. Jack noted with amusement that Bitty looked like the Michelin Man. He shook his head, “Nah, no need.”

“It’s snowing!”

“You’re very observant,” He chirped, “I’ll be fine, it isn’t a long walk,” They stepped outside and Jack did shiver at the first blast of cold air but quickly settled. It was snowing, yes, but the temperature made sure that nothing was sticking. He looked over at Bitty, “C’mon Stay Pufft,”

“Out of all the things for you to make a reference of-“ Bitty grumbled as he followed Jack.

Jack didn’t wear it much after that before he was graduating and moving to Providence. He did, however, wear it quite a bit after he moved because over the summer Bitty was in his new apartment all the time. Almost every time Jack wore ‘the moose shirt’, as Bitty called it, Bitty would giggle for a moment. His giggles would quickly dissolve into a gentle hum and a beckoning with a finger, “Well, come here, cowboy,” Jack was quite grateful to Shitty for getting him such a wonderful gift.

After Bitty left, Jack stopped wearing the shirt unless they were together for a weekend. It wasn’t as fun without someone to tease him about it. It stayed tucked in his drawer, patiently waiting for the arrival of his boyfriend.

Everyone knew that Jack adhered to a very strict schedule, but when it came to Eric his brain sort of short-circuited. That’s how he found himself running around his apartment before practice, trying to grab his clothes and get everything together. He had accidentally lost track of time while he and Bitty had been talking, which meant he wasn’t ready for practice. He wouldn’t have changed it, he wanted to talk to Bitty all the time but he wasn’t able to put thought into the clothes he was grabbing to change into after his shower. He did grab what he assumed was an old Samwell shirt and a pair of workout shorts. He slid his yellow sneakers on, then sped to the arena for practice.

When practice was over and his shower finished, he tugged his shirt out of his bag. He just happened to glance at it before he put it on, and emblazoned across the front? ‘Save a Moose, Ride a Cowboy’. He let out a slow breath, he was almost tempted to throw on his sweaty shirt from practice but that was ridiculous and he was meeting the boys upstairs for lunch. He, as usual, was the last person in the locker room. He could hide for a couple of minutes at least but not forever. He tugged the shirt over his head, not having a choice. He finished getting dressed before going to the dining room with the lunch Bitty had prepared earlier in the week in tow.

Thirdy was the first to notice. He was mid bite of what looked like soup, so his sharp intake of breath caused him to start coughing. Marty aggressively patted his back, “What’s gotten into you?” He asked before looking up at Jack. Then, it seemed like everyone noticed at once. Snowy, Marty, and Tater started cackling. Marty said something first but he said it in French, “«Nice shirt, kid».”

Snowy laughed out, “Zimmermann! Feeling frisky today? What sounds does a moose even make?”

“I bet Little B know!” Tater shouted gleefully.

Jack’ s cheeks flushed bright red as he settled in his seat beside Tater “Haha. It’s an old shirt, Shitty got it for me when I was a sophomore. Don’t wear it too much,” He started pulling out the chicken he had packed.

“You planning on seeing Bitty tonight?” Snowy asked with a smirk.

“No, he has a test coming up,” Jack shook his head with a smile on his lips, “He thinks I would distract him too much.” Jack took a bite of his chicken, falling silent then.

The guys were quiet for a moment, exchanging looks. It looked like one of them was going to say something when Jack opened his mouth again, “He’s right, of course. I would,”

Tater and Snowy shouted out laughs, Tater shaking Jack’s shoulders, “Zimmboni! Shirt is true!” His head tilted back as he laughed loudly. Jack’s ears were pink now, just like his cheeks but he was grinning. A year ago, he never would have been able to do this, relax and enjoy himself while being chirped about his boyfriend. Marty was chuckling and shaking his head, “To be that age again, eh, Thirdy?”

Thirdy snorted, “What I wouldn’t give.”