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Jack’s eyes narrow at the countryside as they’re speeding down a road which looks like it hasn’t been maintained since 1992. Bitty’s swerving round potholes like it’s his job, not missing a beat as he bops along to whatever’s on the radio—Jack thinks it’s Rhianna but he’s in no mood to be chirped for it so he doesn’t ask. Outside there’s little mountains, mostly just plains, cornfields, and wild sunflowers growing in bunches.
It’s both depressing and beautiful, and he knows he can say this to Bitty because that’s how Bitty describes his entire childhood. But he doesn’t. He looks over at his husband whose eyes are covered in Gucci shades—they were a gift from a sponsor—and he’s tapping his fingers on the wheel and mouthing along to the song and Jack is just so fucking in love. I mean it’s been years but Bitty is just…everything.
Suddenly something whips past his head and unfortunately even for as good a Hockey player as he still is, his reflexes aren’t fast enough to retrieve the item before the car is filled with a scream which could rival any banshee.
Bitty swerves just a little as Jack scrambles for the fallen item, and lobs it backwards. He turns his head in the seat to see the small, goblin-like tiny teeth of the three year old digging into the ear of Señor Bun. He can see a tear already forming which means he’s grateful he brought along the little repair kit he’s learnt never to leave home without.
The curly haired thing in the seat growls at him, bearing teeth through the bunny’s abused ear and she shakes her head like a dog.
“Qu’est-ce que tu fait, mon loulou?” he asks.
“Je suis en loup!” she says, muffled still, and growls again.
Bitty laughs and turns back. “Don’t break him, baby girl.”
She spits the bunny out, but holds it by a foot and she kicks her feet which are currently bare because it’s a miracle if either of her parents can keep her in socks or shoes for longer than ten minutes. Frankly it’s a miracle she’s still got her clothes on because lately she’s been sort of the naked Houdini around the house. Just last week they dared to bring her to a benefit and the entire NHL organisation who was there was treated to a three year old streaking across the dance floor, giggling high pitched with one flustered Forward attempting to keep up.
The chirps had yet to stop.
Nor had the snaps the team saved to send to him in the middle of the night, just when he and Bitty had got her down for bed.
“Ah, regarde!” Jack says, and points to a sign with a massive thing that he thinks kind of looks like a peach painted with Greene Farms in giant, block letters. Beneath is a hastily painted pumpkin, and what he thinks might be a Halloween cat, though it’s hard to tell. “We’re nearly there. Crisse, why is this place in the middle of nowhere, Bits?”
Bitty merely grins at him. “Everyone knows the good produce comes from Greene Farms. And it isn’t in the middle of nowhere. Everywhere is somewhere, love.”
Jack wants to chirp him but it was so cute he can’t bring himself to. Instead he just reaches over and runs his fingers through the short hairs at Bitty’s nape. Bitty’s just had it cut, and he preens a little under Jack’s attention.
The bun goes flying again, and this time Bitty catches it mid-air and lobs it back without even looking. Aurelie catches it with her teeth, and Jack sighs.
“We’re raising a puppy.”
Bitty grins happily. “I know.”
They head down a dirt road which seems older than God himself, and it’s bumpy and Jack starts to feel a little car sick. It’s never ending, he’s fairly sure this is what purgatory looks like—endless cornfields and a road which makes him feel like his stomach is bouncing out through his throat.
Then they turn a corner and suddenly a massive field opens up and there’s red and white striped circus tents and food trucks and a whole mess of other things. There’s cars pulling in, and a person near the fence taking cash for their parking fee.
Bitty motions for Jack to hand over the cash he requested. Jack, who never, ever uses cash ever, raises his brows but he hadn’t question Bitty before and he’s not about to start now. The fiver goes out the window, and they’re given a little ticket, and they follow a man waving giant orange sticks down what Jack is certain used to be an okra field or something.
They park just close enough to a massive truck that Jack has to hold his breath to squeeze out. But he sorts the buggy for Aurelie who is bouncing in her seat and screeching as Bitty patiently undoes all the buckles and manages to find both shoes—something Jack can never seem to do. Then she’s out and Jack’s reflexes kick in. He catches her by the strap of her overall—a hideous thing Bitty hates, but his mother had given her so she’s wearing it today—and he hauls her up onto his hip.
“No running off,” he tells her.
She pouts and he struggles internally to just lie down and let her rule the world.
“You want in the buggy or papa’s shoulders?” Bitty asks as he hikes his pack up on his shoulder.
She studies them as though she’s contemplating the very nature of the universe, then manages to somehow scramble up Jack’s arm and his halfway to his shoulders before he catches her and puts her right. Bitty reaches into his pack and pulls out the Aces snapback Kent sent Jack after the Aces knocked the Falconers out of the running last season—Bitty thought it was hilarious and Jack makes sure to wear it every time he does a post-win game this year—and he tucks it over his husband’s hair.
“No burning, you pasty Canuck,” Bitty says, and manages to stretch up tall enough to kiss the underside of Jack’s chin.
Jack glows. He holds on to Aurelie’s ankles as she rests her small chin on the top of the hat, and they head forward.
Luckily Georgia isn’t a major Hockey state so he sees a few people’s eyes widen but he can’t tell if they’re impressed with who he is or horrified that two men would dare show up holding hands and raising a child as though it’s normal. He’s learnt to navigate these things with calculated and deliberate ignorance.
Bitty pays the entrance fee—again with more cash he digs out of Jack’s pocket, then they head in.
“Alright,” Bitty says then, and suddenly his voice has gone from his cheeky drawl to his old Captain Voice when he was a senior Hockey Captain at Samwell. “We need to come up with our game plan.”
Jack blinks at him. “Euh…”
“Now, we don’t want to dawdle with everything too much, not before we head out on the tractor for the pumpkins.”
Jack swallows. “I…tractor?”
“The one pullin’ the wagon.” Bitty’s chin juts to what looks like a train of wagons covered in hay, attached to a massive green tractor. “We go out to the field and we need to be quick. These people are like vultures and it’s not every day I get the pick of the field for pumpkins. I plan to stuff our cases full of puree before we head home.”
“I had…no idea it was competitive business,” Jack says, still a little stunned.
Bitty’s eyes narrow at him. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, this is no joke. This is the Stanley Cup of baking season and I will have the best pumpkins loaded up into that car by the end of the afternoon, do I make myself clear.”
Jack’s a little intimidated, a lot confused, and if he’s being honest, kind of turned on. He plans to explore that last one far later when Aurelie has snuck into her grandparents’ bed and the two of them are alone behind a locked door.
For now he just nods at Bitty who gives him a nod in return, then marches over to a ticket booth to purchase three passes for the hayride.
“Ten minutes,” Bitty says as he comes back to them. He glances over and Jack notices what looks like a giant pit of hard corn kernels. There are kids absolutely all over, throwing them and diving and burying themselves. “We can let her play.”
Aurelie squeals and kicks her feet until Jack lets her down. At first he’s a little worried because surely that has to attract like…mice or something. Germs. But she’s digging her feet right in and glowing like it’s the most fun thing she’s ever done ever, in spite of her papa’s multi-million dollar salary and ability to get her whatever the hell she wants in life.
Jack can’t help himself, and before the ten minutes are up, he’s got at least thirty photos of her on his phone in different angles and lighting and he’s pretty sure all of his social media followers are going to hate his guts and love him in equal measure.
Then it’s time to go and Jack fears the inevitable screaming tantrum, only Bitty claps his hands and says, “Who wants to find the best pumpkin!”
At least six kids cheer, but Aurelie is the loudest and she doesn’t even fight when Bitty slips her shoes on, and soon enough she’s got both their hands and she’s hopping up and down between them as they wait for the tractor to pull up.
Bitty’s like a machine, elbowing his way through stragglers to get what he declares is the, “optimum seat for disembarking.”
Jack’s never really seen this side of Bitty before and it’s…strange. “You Americans are serious about your pumpkins, eh?”
Bitty looks at him. “Wouldn’t say that too loud out here in Georgia, darlin’.”
Jack’s not really afraid, so he laughs and he tucks Aurelie on her knee who’s jabbering away in French about some cloud that kind of looks like a duck and she wants Jack to take a picture for Lala—her name for Lardo since she couldn’t say it for the first two years and they all thought it was too cute to give up.
He does, and snaps her, and Aurelie giggles at the silly-face selfie Lardo sends in return.
Then the tractor pulls away and Aurelie giggles and grabs the railings to watch the ground slowly move by. Bitty’s watching the field as they approach the massive pumpkin patch, eyeing ones he thinks might look good, muttering his strategy.
Jack knows better than to interrupt.
“I haff a bee in my nose,” Aurelie says.
Jack freezes, and almost panics because what?
She looks at him and smiles. “It’s eating all my boogies.”
Jack blinks, then looks over at Bitty who’s smiling behind his hand like he’s already heard this story, and he sighs. “Oh?”
“Then it flied away,” she says, and points along the sky. “To make honey.”
“Bogey flavoured honey?” Jack asks, and tickles her sides until she squirms into Bitty’s lap and stays there until they roll to a stop.
The driver gives some cursory instructions which Jack doesn’t pay attention to because Bitty obviously has this all down, and he only plans to follow his husband’s lead. Apparently Bitty’s lead is to carry a massive pair of sheers whilst he pushes a huge wheelbarrow through the fields, muttering to himself, and picking up pumpkins, and keeping one eye on Aurelie who seems determined to stomp in every squashy, rotted one she can find.
The ride home is going to smell really, really interesting.
A few times Jack picks up a pumpkin and holds it out to Bitty who scowls at him as though he just suggested that maybe Beyonce should take a break from recording, and he sets it down and shuts up and just follows.
After a bit Bitty has selected six and then turns to Jack. “Okay, now you can pick yours.”
Jack blinks.
“You and Aurelie pick your own pumpkin. No veto from me.”
Apparently it’s a tradition. They’ll each carve their own and put candles in them and line the walkway.
Jack hasn’t done this before. He thinks this is probably the moment Lardo, Rans, and Holster would start calling him Rock Lord again—he only just got what the hell that was about a few months ago.
Either way, he takes Aurelie’s tiny hand in his and manages to steer her away from the rotted ones to find a small, white pumpkin that’s incredibly lopsided with growths on it that kind of look like warts, but she insists, “It’s so pretty, papa! Je veux this pumpkin!” she says, half in English, half in French.
Bitty bites his lips as though to bite back a laugh or possibly to try and convince her of another, but they both know she will not be swayed when she’s made up her mind. So Bitty helps her tip it into the barrow and Jack looks for a bit, then decides he’s tired and reaches down to grab a deep green one.
Bitty raises his eyebrows but says nothing as Jack nestles it against the rest of them, and they begin the trek back to the wagons.
Bitty’s far more relaxed now, letting Aurelie run up ahead and smash rotted pulp knowing they’ll have to change her anyway. And he’s holding Jack’s hand, their fingers tapping against each other’s knuckles and arms swinging, and Jack feels…really, really happy.
The air is sweet with the smell of kettle corn roasting and maybe candy floss—he’s not sure but it’s nice. And the ride back to the main grounds feels more leisurely. Aurelie sees a petting zoo, so Bitty takes the pumpkins back to the car whilst Jack helps her pet a llama—he pretends that farm animals don’t terrify him because if anyone ever found out about that, he’d be chirped to his literal grave.
She’s loving it though, and one of the helpers gives her goat feed and she giggles and pets it and then turns to Jack with big eyes. “I want one! Comment dit goat, papa?”
“Chèvre,” he says, and dares to give the goat a little pat. It rewards him by head-butting his shins so hard he actually loses his breath for a second. He hears a small laugh and turns to find Bitty there, covering his mouth.
“I think that one loves you more than Kit.”
Jack drags him over and nips under his ear. “Ta gueule,” he mutters, without any venom, and Bitty laughs.
“I will not shut up, you love me,” he insists.
Jack kisses him by way of answer, and when he pulls back it’s because one of the handlers is gently trying to pull a screeching Aurelie away from the calf she’s trying to climb like a pony. They’re politely asked to leave.
Bitty tweets a photo of the escort, and tags Jack. His phone begins to ping with notifications almost immediately, and he can’t wait to see what the boys are going to say about this one. He does know Bitty owes him like thirty-dozen maple cookies to make up for it.
Eventually they stop for food. Bitty gets Aurelie some roasted corn with salt and vinegar sprinkled on it, and Jack opts for a salad from one of the food trucks, and Bitty does his best not to chirp him about it through his roasted pork sandwich. The sun’s getting warmer, and Aurelie wants to have her face painted and do the corn maze which Jack is hesitant about until Bitty points out there’s a kiddie trail which isn’t a maze at all, just a path.
So they pay the fees and each of them get matching butterflies on their cheeks, including glitter which gets absolutely everywhere but Bitty’s smiling so big he just doesn’t care. They do the maze which takes ten times as long because Aurelie keeps trying to push through the rows of corn and twice she runs off and Bitty has to find her whilst Jack pretends it’s a game so he doesn’t panic at losing sight of her.
She finishes it off on Bitty’s shoulders, and then they stop by the produce stand to get some apples and Asian pears which are just heading out of season.
I promised mama some for her preserves,” Bitty says.
Jack finds honey sticks and pulls a few out for Aurelie. “Bogey flavoured!” she says, then bites down and honey just goes everywhere.
She begins to scream about being sticky which really means she needs a nap, so Jack pays for everything whilst Bitty wipes her up, and soon enough they’re packed into the car with everything—including last minute cider donuts, “Trust me they’re so good you’re going to want to cry,” Bitty insists.
Jack offers to drive home, and Bitty carefully guides him out onto the main road, and soon enough they’re speeding back to Coach and Suzanne’s for dinner. Bitty plays with his collar and with the back of his neck and Jack is calm, and Aurelie is sleeping with Señor Bun tucked up under her chin.
Suzanne collects the toddler for her bath and supper, and before long Jack’s on the back porch with Bitty’s back tucked up against his front, arms holding him gently round the waist. The sun is setting off in the distance, and there’s the smell of fireplaces in the air reminding Jack that the year is passing really fast, and pretty soon they’re going to be here with a teenager and Jack will probably be close to retired and Bitty, of course, will still be gorgeous as ever, even when Jack is hunched over and greying.
He tells all this to Bitty who laughs and turns in his arms, cupping his cheek. “There’s not a moment in my life I won’t find you unbelievably sexy.”
Jack wants to chirp him a little, but can’t bring himself to for the sincerity in his voice, and Jack actually believes him. That sort of hits him like a punch to the gut, and he dips his head in to kiss Bitty slow and deep and intense. “Crisse, Eric,” he breathes against reddened, slightly wet lips.
Bitty smiles against him, then pushes his ear against the hammering heart in Jack’s chest. “I love you.”
Jack’s hand goes up, involuntarily tangling in Bitty’s soft locks and he breathes him in. “I love you, too,” he whispers, then once again in French just because he can, and he feels the curve of Bitty’s smile against his chest.
“You up for this again next year?”
Jack smiles and a tiny laugh escapes him as he holds Bitty just a little tighter. “You know,” he says after a moment, watching the sky turn to a dusky pink, “I think I am.”