Work Text:
Jack was in the middle of editing his thesis when the power flickered on his desk lamp before turning off for good. He finished the sentence he was typing before flipping the switch on the lamp. Nothing. Before he could get up and investigate further, he heard the doors to his and Shitty’s connected bathroom opening and closing.
“Brah!” his best friend shouted as he entered his room. “I think the power’s out!” Shitty reached out and wrapped his arms around Jack. His mustache tickled his ear as he said, “We should check on the others. See if it’s a Haus issue or if it’s more widespread. It’s going to get dark soon.”
Jack sighed and stared at his laptop screen. He planned on taking a break soon. He made sure to save his draft before closing his laptop. “Yeah, you’re right.” Shitty let go of him and he rose from his desk, stretching his arms over his head while arching his back. “You should put on some clothes before checking the breaker box in the basement. Meanwhile, I’ll check on the guys.”
“Do I have to?” Shitty pouted.
“We might have to venture outside the Haus for dinner. That means wearing more than your boxers.”
“Fine,” he dramatically sighed. “Guess I’ll put on a pair of cutoff sweats.”
Jack exited his room and went across the hall to Bittle’s room. He hesitated a moment before knocking on the door. He stood outside and waited a few seconds. He thought he could hear muffled talking, so he knocked a bit louder. This time, he heard someone moving around, and the door swung open.
“What– oh Jack! Hello!” Bittle was scowling when he first opened the door, but his usual radiant smile slid into place when he saw who it was.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
Bittle waved away his concern. “I’m just trying to finish the voiceover for my vlog post this week.
Jack glanced beyond Bittle into his room. Despite the sun setting, there was still plenty of light in the room, an obvious perk of it being on the west side of the Haus. “Well, I don’t know if you realized it, but we lost power. I don’t know what you were planning for dinner, but I don’t think we will be having it here.”
Bittle pulled out his phone and began typing on it. “I planned on defrosting some chili I made a few weeks ago, but not any more.”
“Shitty’s checking the breaker box to make sure that nothing tripped.”
He glanced up at him. “Oh honey, none of us are eating food from the Haus tonight.” He held his phone up. A few social media posts from the bird site he liked to use were on the screen. “According to this, someone hit a telephone pole and knocked out power to the entire east side of campus.”
“Does it include Founders?” Maybe he could work in the library for a few hours instead.
Bittle shrugged. “I have no idea, but I can find out for you!”
“Great. If you’re all good, I’m going to talk with Ransom and Holster.”
“I don’t think they are here, but I’ll text any important updates to the Haus group chat.”
“Sounds good.” Jack stepped away from the door and made his way down the hall towards the attic. He knocked on the door and got no response, although that wasn’t unusual. He opened the door and called up, “Ransom! Holster! Either of you here?”
There was no reply, so he assumed Bittle was correct.
He walked back into his room and pulled his phone off the charger. Perhaps he should’ve grabbed it sooner, as both the Haus and SMH group chats were being flooded with messages. Ransom and Holster were cutting their study session at the library short because students without electricity were flocking there. All of the Frogs’s dorms were also without power, and about half of the upperclassmen were in the same boat. Ransom was sharing information from the power company’s website, and Bittle was dropping pictures of what people at Samwell were saying online.
He opened up the SMH group chat again and texted: The Haus doesn’t have any power, but we will host anyone whose dorm is without power. We’ll have food, games, and places to sleep.
It wasn’t the type of text Jack usually sent. In fact, most of the time he interacted in the Samwell Men's Hockey group chat was to remind people when the bus left for roadies or if the practice time changed. Most of the team reacted to it immediately, and he was quick to mute all notifications.
He then opened up the Haus group chat and sent a short series of texts.
Jack
Shitty, please look for any and all candles you can find. You may use the lighter in the kitchen for them.
Shitty
it’s my fucking honor to use the lighter
[moving image of a man in a military uniform saluting]
[moving image of an explosion with the word FIRE flashing at the bottom]
Holster
[image of a little girl grinning at the camera. Out of focus in the background is a house on fire]
Jack
Please let me finish giving instructions before you respond.
Holster, I know you have some games that aren’t currently banned. Bring them downstairs.
I’m 99% sure we can play Uno and Skip-O without fighting.
Ransom, place a pickup order for some pizzas. Enough to feed at least half the team. I will pick it up.
Bittle, grab a case of water, some sodas, and cups from the basement so we have drinks.
Shitty, no lighting the candles until either Ransom or I am with you.
Bittle
I’m offended that you don’t trust me with a lighter! I literally made crème brûlée last week!
Jack
I have a different task for you, which means you can’t babysit Shits.
Bittle
Well, that makes me feel slightly better
With tasks delegated out, Jack slipped his phone back into his back pocket and ignored the constant buzzing from the SMH group chat. He went downstairs and into the kitchen, determined to start his own self-assigned task. He began opening up the cabinets and searching for some mason jars. He knew that Bittle had some hidden, as he kept things like dough starter, mix-ins, and his mother’s homemade jam in them.
He went through all the upper cabinets with no luck, and started on the lower ones. He had a stack of pots and pans around him when Bittle came in, hefting a case of water onto the counter. “You won’t find any protein bars in there,” he lightly chirped.
Jack glanced up, and the blond was staring down at him, hands on his hips. “Actually, I’m looking for the glass jars you use to store things in.”
“Well, they’re not in there.”
He began stacking the cookware and placing it back in the cabinet.
“Why are you looking for my mason jars anyways?” Bittle continued.
“If we put the candles in a glass container, it refracts the light better, making the room appear brighter with fewer candles.” He stood up and closed the cabinet door. “So, can I borrow a few of them?”
“Goodness, yes! I’ll bring some up once I grab some two liters and cups.”
Jack wanted to ask him where downstairs he stored the mason jars, but Shitty appeared in the doorway, arms absolutely filled to the brim with candles. “Do you think I got enough?” he asked as he set the whole lot down onto the table. “Cuz I can definitely get more.”
“No, I think we’re good,” he replied as he went over to inspect what Shitty retrieved. “Have you heard from Lardo?”
“Yeah. One of her art friends who lives off campus has power, so she’s crashing there for the night.”
“That’s good. As much as she loves us, I doubt she'd want to hang out here tonight. I have a feeling more games will be added to the banned list.”
“I don’t think so. As long as you and Holster don’t play against each other, we should be good.”
“I was more worried about Dex and Nursey. They barely get along on-ice.”
“It might be good for them, having to mediate something that’s not hockey related.”
Before Jack could comment on how overly optimistic Shitty sounded, the front door to the Haus slammed open. “We’re back!” Holster and Ransom chorused, not bothering to take off their shoes before barreling into the kitchen.
“Whoa, I didn’t realize we had that many candles,” Ransom exclaimed.
“There’s still more downstairs, but Jack said I brought up enough,” Shitty informed them.
“Will y’all scooch out of the way?” Came Bittle’s voice from the hallway. As the juniors moved out of the doorway, he continued. “I would’ve elbowed you but I don’t have that ability right now.” Indeed, he was balancing four two-liter bottles and a package of Solo cups in his arms. He set them all on the table, opposite the candle mountain. “Jack, do you want to help me with the jars?”
“Actually,” Ransom cut in, “you’ve got to go pick up the pizzas. They should be ready at Nonzio’s by the time you get there. I can help you, though, Bitty.”
Bittle’s face fell for a moment before brightening back up. “I’ll never turn down some help!”
Jack patted his pocket to make sure his wallet was there. “I’ll see you guys in a bit. Please don’t burn down the Haus while I’m gone.” He waved at all of them, ignoring their indignant protests, and grabbed his keys off the hook by the door before exiting.
When he returned 20 minutes later with a pile of pizza boxes, it was to an argument.
“Bananagram was banned for a reason!” Shitty insisted.
“Scrabble isn’t Bananagrams!” Holster loudly proclaimed.
Jack placed the boxes onto the counter and made his way to the living room, where the shout match was occurring.
“They are both games where you create words from letter tiles! They are the same game!”
“No true! Scrabble has a set board with special tile squares. Bananagram is free-form word expression with lettered tiles.”
“They are essentially the same game!” Shitty threw his hands up in the air. “You can’t convince me otherwise.” He turned and noticed Jack hovering. “Hey, Jackie-boy! Can you answer whether Scrabble is banned from the Haus or not, seeing as you’re half the reason Bananagrams is?”
“Scrabble is different from Bananagrams. That being said,” he directed his attention towards Holster with a smirk, “Do you really think you can beat me at a word game?”
“Oh, it’s so on!” He exclaimed, grabbing the box from Ransom and beginning to set it up on the floor.
“After dinner, boys!” Bittle called out from the corner of the living room. It looked like he was trying to find the best placement of the candle so it gave off the most light.
At his remark, the others appeared to have realized that with Jack back, it meant that food was here. All of them got up, but Bittle stayed where he was, placing the mason jar candle on various objects.
“You did a good job placing everything,” Jack told him. And it was true. While the living room wasn’t as bright as it would be with the overhead lights on, it was easy enough to see everything quite well without straining your eyes. And the softness of the flickering candlelight made everything, even the shadows, feel soft and warm. Cozy wasn’t a word normally used to describe a frat house, but the Haus certainly felt that way.
“I had some help. Holster was the only one who can reach that high,” Bittle replied, pointing to a candle on top of the small bookcase that mostly held movies, video games, and extra Wii controllers. He was still trying to find a place for the final candle.
Jack walked over to him and took the candle out of his hand. “Do you mind if I…”
“Not at all, Jack.” They stood so close, staring at each other. Were Bittle’s eyes always this big?
Then Ransom burst back into the room, plate piled high with pizza. The moment was broken. They startled and took a step away from each other. Jack placed the candle on a shelf just out of Bittle’s reach.
“C’mon, let’s get you some pepperoni before the rest of the team gets to it. You gotta eat more protein, eh?”
Bittle let out a laugh and smiled. “I’ve been eating plenty,” he insisted as they walked towards the kitchen.
“Gotta make up for all the pumpkin coffees you drink.”
“You wish, Mr. Zimmermann, you wish.”