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Jack really, really hadn’t meant to do it. It had just happened one night when they were watching NHL highlights together, Shitty drunk and Jack supervising and only allowing himself half a beer. The Aces had played the Sharks earlier in the week and Kent had gotten a hatty, leading the Aces to a win. Shitty was doing what Jack was quickly realizing was his typical porno-style commentary.
“Unf, he’s got some damn soft hands! God, just fuck me up.”
Jack was very deliberately trying not to think of Kent’s hands, or mouth, or eyes, or ass, or anything pertaining to Kent fucking anyone, literally or figuratively.
It wasn’t going well.
“Fuck,” Shitty sighed, dropping his head into Jack’s lap. He froze, hoping Shitty had had enough beers to not notice how very much certain parts of his body were currently missing Kent.
“I mean, you know?” Shitty continued. He looked up at Jack. “He’s just fucking fantastic.”
Jack really wished Shitty would choose a different expletive. Just long enough for him to get himself under control again.
Jack really wasn’t sure when or how he and Shitty had become friends, but he had to admit, Shitty was his best (and if he was being honest, only) friend. And Jack was fine with that. He didn’t have time for a relationship, and he didn’t even want one with Shitty. When he told his therapist later, she would tell him that he was lonely and overworked and touch-starved and that it was okay for him to be missing the closeness he had had with Kent.
Jack would blame it on the alcohol, but he still didn’t think any of that explained why, when Shitty straightened up to gesture more emphatically, Jack leaned forward and pressed their lips together.
He pulled away immediately, already mentally kicking himself. Why did he always have to ruin things like this?
“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I should-” He couldn’t breathe. He could feel himself shaking and shit, no, he needed to get out but he couldn’t move and his chest hurt and-
“Breathe, Jack,” Shitty said gently. He wrapped his arms around Jack firmly. “Is this okay?”
Jack nodded jerkily. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, man. Just try to relax, okay?”
Jack wasn’t sure how much time passed, but Shitty held him until he finally felt like he wasn’t going to die.
“I’m sorry.”
Shitty pulled back far enough to meet Jack’s eyes. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I kissed you.” Jack wasn’t sure his voice was even loud enough for Shitty to hear, but apparently it was.
“Yeah, and I’d give you a lecture about doing that to someone who’s drunk, but I think you already know that.”
Jack just stared at him.
Shitty sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m pan.” Jack kept going, stumbling over his words and fighting to keep his breathing under control. “I mean, I looked at stuff online, and I think it fits the best out of everything I saw? But, I just-”
“Easy, man, easy. It’s okay.”
Jack took a deep breath. “You won’t… tell anyone?”
Shitty looked like he couldn’t decide whether to yell or cry. “For fuck’s sake man, I’m your best friend.”
It had been a long time since Jack had let himself cry in front of someone else. Shitty held him through that, too.