Chapter Text
“Don’t you have an agent for this?” Shitty asked, looking over his reading glasses at Jack. They were in Jack’s room at The Haus. Jack sitting backward in his desk chair and Shitty, wearing nothing but a pair of tighty whities and reading glasses, was on Jack’s bed leaning against the wall.
“I don’t like my agent,” Jack answered. He’d gone with the same agency his dad was with, but they’d given him, not his dad’s very experienced sports agent who Jack had known his whole life, but a new guy who wasn’t any older than Jack himself. This new agent, Brian, blushed and fidgeted every time Jack’s past came up in negotiations. As though he couldn’t bring himself to talk about “rehab” and “substance abuse problems” with a guy six inches taller and forty pounds heavier than himself. He also balked when Jack resolutely refused to sign with Las Vegas, despite the Aces offering a far larger signing bonus than the Falconers.
So, he had Shitty looking over his Falconers contract. “I want you to get out of law school soon so you can be my agent,” Jack said.
Shitty grinned, “You think I’m going to waste a Harvard education representing a bunch of jocks?”
“I’ve seen you smoke a forest of pot wearing nothing but a jock strap and you know everything about me. That breeds trust.”
“You should have an agent you can trust,” Shitty said thoughtfully. “You don’t think you can trust Brian?”
“Well, I couldn’t tell him the real reason I can’t play in Vegas.”
Shitty threw the contract aside and leaned forward. “What is the real reason you can’t play in Vegas?”
Jack paused. It almost sounded like Shitty was challenging him. “You know,” Jack said. “I can’t play with Kent.”
“Because you used to fuck him?”
“It was...” Jack sighed and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “It was more than that.” Jack didn’t even know how to explain it to Shitty, and Shitty was the one person Jack could tell anything. But there were a lot of emotions involving Kent, and they were all very confusing to Jack. Years of therapy barely touched the surface of his feeling toward Kent Parson. There were so many layers - jealousy, love, hatred, pride, and about a thousand other emotions that Jack could just never sort through. He didn’t even know how it was possible to love and hate someone so strongly at the same time.
“You know, you should try to work things out with him,” Shitty said. “If you’ll both be in the NHL, you’ll be facing each other.”
“That’s kind of why I’m staying in the Eastern Conference,” Jack said.
“And the other reason is…”
“There isn’t another reason,” Jack lied.
“Lie to me if you want, Jack Zimmermann, but don’t you ever lie to yourself.”
“I’m not-”
Shitty cut Jack off. Shitty was the only person who could get away with cutting Jack off, telling Jack hard truths. “You wouldn’t be the first Haus-mates who were lovers, you know.”
Jack stared out the window. He wondered, for the thousandth time, what exactly Bitty had overheard the night of the epikegster. He must have overheard something because since then, Bitty had gotten quieter, more thoughtful, around Jack. And he started baking pies specifically for Jack, not just the whole Haus.
Shitty waited for a moment for a response, but when he realized Jack was lost in his thoughts, he went back to studying the Falconers contracts. After a few minutes, he said “This looks good. You may not trust your agent, but he certainly isn’t trying to screw you over. And who knows, you can always buy him a bong and a jock strap for Christmas and maybe then you can trust him.” He handed Jack the papers.
“Thanks,” Jack mumbled as Shitty stood up.
“Mmm-hmm,” Shitty answered. He turned when he got to the door. “Just...fuckin’ talk to him already.”
Jack was left wondering who Shitty was talking about. Kent? Or Bitty?
The next day was Thursday. Bitty and Jack, being the only natural early-risers in The Haus, had their classes mostly in the mornings. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons it was often only those two in the Haus.
Bitty was baking in the kitchen. Jack waited until Holster and Ransom left for their noon classes before heading down to the kitchen. “Hey,” he leaned against the door frame.
“Hi Jack,” Bitty answered, his hands covered in butter for his pie crust. “What’s up?”
“I’ve officially signed with the Falconers,” Jack answered, scratching the back of his neck.
“Oh!” Bitty said, holding his hands to his face, remembering they were covered in butter and washed them quickly. “Oh my goodness, Jack. This is amazing news! I wish we had champagne to celebrate!”
Jack laughed at that then was genuinely surprised as Bitty came to him and enveloped him in a big hug. Jack hugged him back, his heart skipping a beat, and he leaned down and breathed in the smell of Bitty. Bitty always smelled good, like Ivory soap and butter and cinnamon.
Jack realized he shouldn’t love how his teammate smelled. Hell, he probably shouldn’t even know what Bitty smelled like.
“I’m going to bake some extra treats tonight. We’ve got to celebrate!”
Jack followed Bitty back into the kitchen and he leaned against the counter, watching Bitty get back to work on the pie. “What’re you making now?” he asked.
“Strawberry rhubarb,” Bitty answered. “There was a special on strawberries at the market and they looked….well, all right, for the season.” Bitty knew everything about when which fruits were at their peak. “But let’s not talk about pie, let’s talk about the Falconers.”
Jack smiled, “What do you want to know?”
“When do you report for training? Are you going to start? Why’d you choose the Falconers?”
“About a month after graduating. I don’t know. And...what was the third question?”
“Why’d you choose the Falconers?” Bitty asked again.
Jack shrugged, “Well, Providence isn’t too far from here. And I couldn’t be without your pies.”
Bitty smiled, but gave Jack a questioning look, “Really, though. Wasn’t Las Vegas offering you a lot more money?”
“I don’t need more money.” Bitty starting rolling out his pie crust. He didn’t say anything, and Jack knew that he was expected to go on. Finally he sighed, and shifted his feet a little. “How much of my conversation with Kent did you overhear?”
“Not all of it,” Bitty said, his cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was coming up to my room to make sure no one was throwing up in it. And, you know.”
“I can’t play with Kent Parson,” Jack answered simply. “He was a really important part of my life, back then. But now he’s not and I don’t think being around him everyday would be good for me.”
“OK,” Bitty said. He was non-committal, non-judgmental in his remarks.
“We were sleeping together,” Jack admitted after a moment’s silence. “Me and Kenny.”
Bitty looked up and met Jack’s eye, “Well, goodness, Jack Zimmermann. You are full of surprises.”
“Does that surprise you though?” Jack asked curiously. “There were rumors about us-”
Bitty cut him off. “I grew up figure skating in Georgia. Do you think I knew anything about Quebec Junior Leagues and the rumors about the players?”
“I think Holster and Ransom figured it out. You’re attached to your phone, you must have Googled me.”
Bitty shrugged. Ransom and Holster had told him about the rumors, and when he overheard Jack and Kent that night, he figured they must be true. But still, he pushed it out of his mind because he wanted Jack to tell him himself. And, honestly, why get his hopes up? “You think I’m going around Googling my teammates?”
Jack shrugged at Bitty’s non-answer. Of course Bitty had Googled his teammates, but despite that, the rumors about Jack and Kent sleeping together had escaped his notice until Holster and Ransom talked about it. The first several pages of hits on Google were all about Jack being in rehab, Jack missing out on the draft, and Jack choosing Samwell, not about Jack fucking Kent Parson.
“So you’re going to Providence to avoid an ex-boyfriend?”
Jack made an impatient noise. “It’s not just that he’s an ex-boyfriend, eh? He’s a representation of a lot of things in my past.”
“Like rehab?”
“Like rehab,” Jack answered. It was more than rehab, it was Jack playing in his father’s shadow, and the pressure to live up to expectations, and the pressure to just stop being so gay. If Bitty thought Jack put a lot of pressure on himself and his team now, he would have been shocked to have seen him in Juniors before years of therapy.
“I don’t know how to explain this.”
“Explain what?”
“Why I want to play for Providence.”
“For Goodness’ sake, Jack. You don’t owe me an explanation.” Bitty picked up his pie crust and carefully laid it in the pie plate. He began to crimp the edges.
“Yes I do,” Jack insisted.
“Why?”
“Because you’re part of the reason,” Jack flushed.
Bitty looked up from his pie crust, genuinely surprised. “Well then. Explain.”
Jack took a deep breath. “Samwell was good for me. It was the best place for me to be after, you know...rehab and trying to get back into the game. And I don’t really want to leave it all behind, I’m not ready to move across the country, Kent Parson or no. So, I kind of wanted to stay in the Eastern Conference.
“Also, Providence is a new team, an expansion team. And it’s just symbolically good for me. A team that doesn’t have any connections to my dad, it didn’t even exist when I missed out on the draft seven years ago. It feels like the freshest start possible.”
Bitty waited for the part about him. As Jack got more serious and earnest, his Quebecois accent became more pronounced.
“It’s not just Samwell I don’t want to leave behind,” Jack finally admitted. “It’s you.”
“Me?”
Jack didn’t talk a lot, particularly not about his feelings, and it kind of exhausted him because he knew he wasn’t very good at it. He just wanted Bitty to understand what he was trying to say without him actually having to say it.
Instead of answering, Jack leaned over and pressed his lips softly to Bitty’s.
Bitty was surprised. His hands, which had been busy crimping his pie crust became still as he breathed in Jack’s scent. He’d waited a year and a half for this kiss and now that it was here, his mind was racing and he didn’t know what to do. What do you do with your hands when you’re kissing someone a half a foot taller than you?
He couldn’t put his arms around Jack’s neck, that would make Jack have to bend over even further than he already was. Instead, he chose to snake his arm around Jack’s waist and pull him closer.
Oh my God, Jack Zimmermann, was a fantastic kisser. Bitty felt a jolt of gratitude toward Kent Parson for letting Jack practice enough to get this good.
Jack ended the kiss first. He pulled back and rested his forehead on Bitty’s. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“What?” Bitty pulled away and looked at Jack like he was crazy. “Why are you sorry? I’ve wanted that for a while now, but until recently, I thought you were straight.”
“I’m not,” Jack answered, unnecessarily. “I want this too, I’m just not sure that this timing is right. I’m going to play in the NHL, Bits. I can’t be out, and you deserve someone who can be out with you.”
Bitty rolled his eyes and grabbed his strawberry rhubarb filling. “I’m not even out to my parents, Jack. The only people I’m out to live in this Haus.” He began dumping the filling into the pie crust. “So if you want to start something in secret, I’m basically the best person to be in a secret relationship with.”
“But you’ll be out to your parents eventually.”
“Eventually. Far enough in the future I’m not even thinking about it.”
Jack cocked his head and studied Bitty. “The NHL is going to take a lot of my time.”
Bitty shrugged, “I still have two years of school.”
“You’re going to be named Captain next year,” Jack informed him.
Bitty dropped his spoon, “What?!”
“Coach is going to call you soon. The guys voted and you won unanimously.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “Getting the C is a lot of work. You’ll have classes, you’ll have practice and games and your Captain duties.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of kissing you again?” Bitty teased, he began rolling out more crust to make the lattice for the top of the pie.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. Warning you, I guess? If we start this, it won’t be easy.”
“My Maw-Maw used to say ‘All things are difficult until they become easy.’”
“Is it worth it?” Jack asked. “Wading through the difficult to get to the easy?”
“My goodness, Jack. Last year I couldn’t take a check in hockey. Now I’m getting the C. Seven years ago, you were in rehab. Now you’ve signed with the NHL. You tell me if you think it’s worth it.”
Jack watched Bitty thoughtfully, as Bitty began laying the lattice work on his pie. Jack’s heart was hammering and he felt sick and giddy at the same time. As much as the thousands of butterflies Jack’s stomach were fluttering (it felt like they were playing hockey in there), Bitty seemed calm, assured that they were doing the right thing.
Jack waited while Bitty finished up his pie and put it in the preheated oven before answering, “I think you’re worth it, Eric Bittle.”
Bitty looked at Jack, his eyes shining and bright, and said with a kiss, “I think you are too, Jack Zimmermann.”