Chapter Text
Jack inwardly cursed when he saw the frog, small and excited; he was obviously an omega (despite the scent neutralizers he was wearing). He was the type of omega people would want Jack to be if they knew. Of course, Jack (and the world) knew that omegas came in all shapes and sizes, but there was still an ideal and this kid was it. If there was one thing Jack knew about hockey it was this: the ideal omega couldn’t hack it.
At first, the kid, Bittle, proved him wrong. He was the fastest skater on the team with damn soft hands, but then Jack realized Bittle flinched whenever someone came near him and Jack knew he was right. It was proved the first time Bittle was checked. Jack sighed.
“The guy has never been in a league with contact before.” Shitty shrugged as Jack complained to him.
“He’ll get used to it.”
Jack grumbled. “Shits, he bakes, he sings, he flits around. He is the omega you can take home to your mother. He is made to be coddled. He is not going to get used to it.”
“Way to be dynamic essentialist Jack.” Shitty didn’t hesitate to call Jack out and Jack shot Shitty a loathing look, because how would he know. He was a beta; he could be whatever he wanted to be. “If he is an omega, would it really be so bad to have another omega on the team, maybe you could talk or like have each other’s backs?” Shitty knew, had known since freshman year. And if he hadn’t known before he’d know now, sharing a bathroom with Jack his scent neutralizing shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and deodorant all sitting there on the shelf in the shower.
“I don’t think this is one of those places where omega solidarity gets put into play. Besides, you’ve got my back.” Shitty hmmmed at that, not asking who had Bittle’s back. The next day Jack made sure Bittle came to checking practice but he didn’t tell Bittle his omega status.
“You know, I am getting better.” Bittle smiled at him after Jack had pressed him against the boards and Bittle hadn’t even screamed. “Thank you.”
Jack stared at that brilliant smile and felt his stomach drop. “Don’t worry about it.” He stopped himself from making a comment about how as captain it was his job to keep anyone on the team from dragging them down; he didn’t want Bittle to stop smiling like that. And as if in response to the comments absence Bittle’s smile grew wider and it was like someone had pulled the ice out from under him.
He was so fucked.