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Of course. Of course it lands on Jack.
Bitty leaves the room as per the rules and instantly he’s wringing his hands. There are drunken murmurs coming from the other room and he knows that it’s the sound of his friends deciding his fate.
Either way he’s in for some pain because there’s outcome A where he gets a slap in the face from team captain Jack Zimmermann, who Bitty is oh-so-desperately crushing on. And then there’s outcome B, which is getting a kiss from team captain Jack Zimmermann, who he is oh-so-desperately crushing on, while also having to pretend he’s not dying from happiness afterwards.
He feels like it’s in his best interest to hope for the slap because that involves the least amount of pain, in his opinion. It’s physical. Tangible. He’s still not great with physical contact, but he knew what he signed up for when he agreed to play this game tonight. Told himself he could handle it if it came down to a slap.
Honestly he hoped his friends might keep that in mind about him when it came time to vote, or figured that whoever it landed on would probably end up giving him a warning if they were supposed slap him. The last three people who went got slapped, so Bitty thinks everyone’s in an alcohol-induced mood for minor violence tonight. That’s fine, he thinks. The sting will disappear rather quickly, and all he’ll have to worry about after tonight is the occasional what if thought about getting a kiss instead.
And if they vote kiss, not only will Bitty have to kiss his captain, he’ll be kissing his crush. He’ll be kissing Jack. The thought makes his cheeks burn and he has to squeeze his eyes shut. He’s not ready for that, not really. Doesn’t think he’ll be able to play it off as just drunk enthusiasm if he reaches up to kiss him again and again after he starts pulling away.
.
“Okay, but how funny would it be if everyone got slapped tonight? I want to see that. Let’s do that,” Shitty pseudo-whispers, just loud enough for the rest of The Haus to hear.
“But!!” Chowder starts to shout, then with a little more effort remembers to lower his voice, “it’s Bitty! Do you really want to see Bitty get slapped?”
Jack doesn’t want to see Bitty get slapped, much less does he want to be the one to do it. He’s silent while he listens to everyone discuss the potential kissing or slapping of one Eric Richard Bittle, switching between rubbing his knees and tapping his fingers on his thighs to ground himself. Tonight had been good, they played a good game even though they had to fight pretty hard for the win. It was good. It was worth it.
He felt good earlier and he’d been having a good time. A lot of people cleared out early which is why he decided to hang around a bit longer at the kegster and why he agreed to play this game. He even drank a little more than usual. Now though, he feels a bit nauseous.
Jack really doesn’t want to slap Bittle. More than that though, he’s letting himself admit, he wants to kiss him. He really wants to kiss him. But this isn’t exactly how he envisioned it going down, and judging from the look on Chowder’s face it’s not going to anyway.
Jack lets out a loud sigh. This is stressing him out and he mostly wants to leave, just say he’s tired or even admit he’s getting anxiety. He knows that they’d understand and they’d let him off the hook, probably with only minor chirping. But he’s worried about how that might come across to Bitty. Really doesn’t want him to get the wrong message, or to think that the prospect of Maybe Kissing him was too upsetting or something. It is, but not for the reasons that Bitty might think. That’s enough to keep Jack there, in the living room of The Haus.
His friends finish up their hushed back-and-forth, everyone speaking in that deliberately slow way that drunk people start to use when they’re trying to be quiet.
“Okay Jack. We’ve... Reached a verdict.”
Everyone groans at Shitty’s poor attempt at a law joke. Lardo punches his arm then snorts when he winces a little.
“Jack, you’re gonna slap Bits,” she says with a smirk, sounding surprisingly sober for how much she drank tonight.
Jack’s not surprised, everyone’s been very inclined to slapping tonight. He wonders if it’s because of how rough the game was. All that excess adrenaline getting to everyone’s heads and riling them up. His lips pull into a tight line and he nods, bracing himself for what he’s about to do.
.
It’s quiet on the other side now letting Bitty know that his time is up. He’s about to knock on the door to double check when he hears the approach of footsteps, most likely Jack’s. There’s a soft knock, then the door creaks open and, oh Jack is so handsome. Bitty’s stomach tightens and he realizes he’s been holding his breath a little. Deep breaths, Bittle.
He’s prepared for a slap to the face, because this is a hockey team and everyone is drunk. Despite their best efforts, his friends are being a little obvious about what’s going to happen. Chowder looks concerned, bless his heart. Bitty makes a mental note to bake him something special later. Ransom and Holster are honest to god play-slapping each other’s legs and elbowing the other when one of them lets out a snort as if that’s what would give it away. Shitty is biting his bottom lip to stop from smiling too big, while Lardo just looks smug. It looks like Nursey actually fell asleep, on Dex no less. Dex looks mostly just annoyed as he sips a glass of water, shoving Nursey gently off his shoulder and laughs when he hits the couch cushion with a soft thud. The Haus is hopeless, honestly.
Bitty tells himself he can take it, he’s worked hard this year. Reminds himself that he’s come a long way thanks to checking practice. Thanks to Jack.
A small part of him is still holding onto hope for something softer.
.
Jack watches as Bitty peeks out from the door, and has to stop himself from clasping his chest when he sees how nervous he looks. It hits Jack then, how Bittle is probably expecting a slap. His suspicions are confirmed when he notices Bitty take a look at their friends, close his eyes and make a small sigh. Then he’s shutting them tighter and leaning in, bracing his body for the impact of a slap, shoulders raised, fists balled tight in his shirt. Jack hates this even more now that he actually sees how nervous Bitty is. He wonders if Bitty knows he is too.
Screw it.
Jack reaches his hand out slowly to Bitty’s face, pats his cheek gently. He lets it linger there, unsure if he wants to retreat and take the chirping that he’s bound to get if he calls that a slap. Something he didn’t consider earlier was the possibility of insulting Bitty by not giving him a real slap. Like Jack somehow thinks he couldn’t handle it or some other absurd reason. He takes another second to school his nerves then places his other hand to Bitty’s chin and lifts his face into a chaste kiss.
“Bro, what the fuck was that?” Shitty laughs out.
“Oh, uh... I thought it was slap and kiss,” Jack knows it’s a bad lie but he hopes they’re drunk enough to buy it, or at least too drunk to care. They are.
“That was the weakest slap I’ve ever seen. I don’t think that even counts” Ransom slurs a bit.
“You’re right. I just wanted to ruin the slap-streak for Shitty,” Jack deadpans.
“Rude.”
Jack chances a look at Bitty, worried about what he might see on his face. Bitty looks surprised and just slightly mortified. He’s pretty flushed, but Jack can’t be sure if that’s from the situation or just from how much he drank tonight. Maybe Jack made the wrong decision. He’s starting to regret it when Bitty actually snorts. That’s something at least.
“Jack Zimmermann! Are you telling me you were supposed to slap me and you kissed me instead? Take a boy to dinner first,” he chirps. He can’t quite hold Jack’s eyes the whole time, but he’s smiling and his voice isn’t shaking. That’s better. Jack’s a little reassured he didn’t mess up too badly.
Jack doesn’t think he’ll be playing this game again.
.
Bitty is a little stunned.
Mostly because Jack’s lips are so soft and that kiss wasn’t nearly long enough to sate him. So much so he can’t believe he didn’t reach out and pull Jack back down. It seems Bitty does retain some impulse control when it really counts, even when he’s this drunk. Thank god for that.
Also because Jack keeps looking at him like a new puppy who thinks it’s going to get scolded. Now that’s an image to consider.
But he doesn’t like seeing Jack look like this, so worried that he might’ve messed up. Knows he’s probably racking his brain for every possible mistake he could’ve made by kissing him. It’s difficult, but Bitty tells himself to suck it up. Feelings are messy and this isn’t the first time he’s had to pack them away for the good of a friendship. Doesn’t make it hurt any less.
The rest of The Haus moves on with their game, a little too drunk to pay attention to the slight tension between the two of them.
Bitty keeps his voice even and a small smile on his face as he touches Jack’s arm to comfort him then says softly, “Thanks Jack, really. I know you were being considerate. I’m... really glad I didn’t get slapped.”
For a moment Bitty swears Jack almost looks hurt. But then it’s gone and he’s smiling a bit, all sad eyes and soft mouth. Bitty doesn’t let himself think about what that face might mean.
Bitty doesn’t think this crush will be going away any time soon, either.