Chapter Text
Eric Bittle met Jack Zimmermann for the first time when he was sixteen years old. He’d just gotten his driver’s license that afternoon, so mama sent him to pick up Coach from work and surprise his father with the news. He let himself into Coach’s office and sat in the desk chair, propping his feet on a milk crate full of footballs while he scrolled through his email. Eric fired off replies to comments on the latest figure skating video he’d posted on YouTube until he heard voices coming down the hall and the door swung open.
“Junior? Well ain’t this a surprise! Where’s your mother?” Coach asked, smiling broadly under his moustache.
“She’s at home,” Eric told him, hopping up out of the chair and pulling his temporary license out of his back pocket to show him.
“What’s this?”
“Mama took me to the DMV this morning for my road test, I passed!” Coach crowded in close to squint down at the grainy black and white photo on the paper temp.
“Well would you look at that. Congrats, Junior.” Coach clapped Eric on the shoulder. “Now why don’t you repay me for those lessons by giving me and Jack here a ride?” he gestured to the boy hovering uncomfortably in the doorway and Eric’s heart skipped a little in his chest. He’d only ever seen Jack from a distance, watching games up in the bleachers with his mother, and seeing him in person was worlds different. He wasn’t just a generically muscular dude scurrying around the field; Eric could see how handsome he was. All the guys on Coach’s team had nice bodies, and it was something he’d just kind of tuned into radio static a long time ago because usually their faces were generic and their eyes skipped right over Eric once it was clear he wasn’t one of them. Jack’s face was beautiful though, with high cheekbones and pink lips, his big nose looking perfectly suited to sit below intense blue eyes. His hair was a bit of a scruffy mess, but coupled with the roundness of his flushed cheeks it just made him look sweet.
“Sure thing!” He held out his hand to Jack. “Eric Bittle, nice to meet you.” Jack seemed relieved to know his place in the conversation again, and almost smiled as he shook Eric’s hand.
“Nice to meet you too. Jack Zimmermann.” He pulled back and scratched at the back of his head, before adding, “Um, your dad talks about you a lot.” Eric shot Coach a look.
“Oh he does, does he?” Coach held up his hands in surrender,
“What? A man can’t be proud of his son? I didn’t break out the baby pictures or nothing, I just told ‘em about your medals.” Eric let out a relieved whew!
“Sorry Coach, you know Mama has me paranoid about that. You remember when she posted the spaghetti picture on Facebook for my birthday?” Jack chuckled a little at that.
“At least you only have the one baby photo out there, eh? Could be worse - my mother has an entire album of them up.”
“See? Your parents aren’t the only embarrassing ones out there,” Coach said. “Now let’s get a move on, dinner outghtta be ready to hit the table any minute now.” Jack and Bitty loitered in the hallway while Coach got his bag together and locked up the office.
“So you’re the amazing new quarterback I’ve been hearing so much about?” Eric asked him, leaning against the trophy case opposite Jack who blushed at the compliment.
“Yeah - euh, well, I’m new anyway.”
“Welcome to Samwell.”
“Thanks. It seems like a great place so far. The team’s good guys.”
Coach came out of his office, bag slung over his shoulder, turning the bolt on the door before he let it slam shut behind him.
“Let’s hit the road.”
Eric left the top 40 station on low as he drove, nodding along as Coach filled him in on how the team had been looking at practice, tossing a couple questions at Jack, asking him what he’d thought from the field. Jack was already Eric’s favorite of all the players he’d had to welcome into his home over the years. Back in Georgia, the boys on Coach’s team never liked him because he was weird for a boy and especially for the son of a southern football coach. Then when they moved up north to Samwell at the start of his freshman year, he’d just been too young for them to take him seriously. Once, a linebacker had ruffled his hair and then had the nerve to look shocked when Eric scowled and informed him that he was fifteen. Jack was polite, if somewhat awkward, and he hadn’t talked to Eric like he was a child. What a nice young man.
“What a nice young man,” Suzanne gushed as soon as the door had shut behind Jack when Coach went to drive him home. “Don’t you think so, Dicky?” She turned to Eric, up to his elbows in dishwater, a strange smile on her face.
“Mother, don’t you even think about it, he is years older than me!”
“I didn’t mean anything by it!” She defended, hand pressed to her chest. “I’m old enough to be his mother, there is nothing wrong with admitting that he’s nice.”
“Alright, fine. Jack seems like a good guy. Happy?” Suzanne picked up the dish towel and started drying the dishes on the drainer.
“It doesn’t matter to me what you think of him.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“No reason, I was just curious.”
“You were fishin’,” he accused, pausing his scrubbing to point a finger at his mother. “Mama, I am not stupid. I’m not gonna go gettin’ a crush on a grown-ass man. Especially not one who’s probably straight.” Suzanne sighed, twisting the dish towel around her hand.
“I know, I know. It’s just - Well you know, if you did have feelings - for anyone! - you can come to me. You know that, right?”
“No, Mama, of course not,” he drawled, bumping her with his hip playfully. “When you hung that pride flag on the porch, I had no idea that was a gesture of support.” She laughed, swatting at him with the towel.
“Where did all of this sass come from? Who raised you like that?” Eric wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist and ducked enough to rest his head on her shoulder like he did when he was a little kid, blinking up at her innocently.
“You brought this on yourself.”
“I sure did,” she agreed happily, wrapping her arms around his back and squeezing tight.
“And, um…” Eric cleared his throat, stepping back from the hug. “While we’re on the subject of, you know, boys…”
“Yeees?”
“I was wondering if I could take the car on Friday?” Suzanne raised an eyebrow at him, arms folded. “Um, Philip from GSA asked me to go to a movie.” A smile crept across her face, and Eric had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at how smug she looked.
“Well honey, you know the deal. The truck is yours to use as much as you want as long as you keep your grades up and help with the groceries.” Eric’s mouth went slack a little bit.
“Y’all were serious about that?”
“Of course honey, it’s been sitting in the garage since we moved. Have at it.” Bitty squealed a little bit and hugged his mother again.
When Friday rolled around, Eric showered, styled his hair, and pulled on his favorite jeans with a button down that he’d always thought suited him especially nicely. His father called goodbye from the office where he was sequestered away watching tape and told him to have a good time. He kissed his mother on the cheek on his way out to the garage through the kitchen, careful to avoid getting flour on his nice clothes.
“Good luck, sweetheart. Let me know when you get there and when you’re headed home, okay?”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you too, baby.”
The truck was older than Eric, maybe old enough to be called antique actually. Coach had had the thing forever, and there were a few spots of rust around the wheel wells that would have to be dealt with, but the leather on the seats had been replaced and it didn’t smell like PBR and cigars as his mother assured him it had back in college. (“I made him promise to clean it top to bottom if he expected a second date.”) He wasn’t worried about it though. Basically any car that didn’t have to be shared with at least one sibling was considered pretty cool at their age.
When he showed up at Philip’s house and rang the doorbell, he put his parent face on, getting ready to introduce himself, but instead Philip just slipped out the door, calling over his shoulder,
“Eric’s here, I’m leaving! Kisses!” As soon as the latch clicked shut behind him, Philip looked at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Eric said, smiling back.
“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” Eric nodded and took Philip’s hand when it was offered. He led him around to the passenger side door and popped it open for him before getting in on the driver’s side. He backed out of the driveway at a glacial pace to make sure he didn’t clip the mailbox or the bushes and breathed a sigh of relief when he was back on the road.
“So what’s this movie supposed to be about?” Eric asked Philip. The only movie theater in Samwell was the tiny one that only showed the kind of movies that were called “films” and had lots of subtitles or actors nobody had ever heard of.
“It’s supposed to be a love story?” Philip told him. “Set in the fifties. In France. Very romantic,” he promised.
“That sounds beautiful.” Eric smiled at him as he came to a stop at a light, and wished he could take one of his hands off the steering wheel to hold Philip’s again, but the way Philip looked back at him made him pretty sure he wouldn’t have to wait long once they got out of the truck.
Sure enough, Philip took Eric’s hand again as they walked through the parking lot towards the theater. Philip grabbed their tickets while Eric got their snacks. His favorite part of the art theater was that they had a full coffee bar, so he could get a mocha to go with his M&Ms and green tea for Philip’s Junior Mints. Eric met Philip as he was getting out of line at the box office and they headed upstairs to their theater. They picked seats up high near the back and settled in, shrugging off coats and wrapping their hands around warm cups. Eric nudged his arm up onto the shared armrest beside Philip’s and when Philip looked over at him, he said,
“I’m really glad you asked me out tonight.”
“I’m really glad I did too,” Philip said, leaning in and kissing Eric’s cheek. The last thing Eric saw before the lights went down was the mischievous grin on Philip’s face.
Eric really only focused in on the movie in bits and pieces. For one, the whole movie was in French, so he had to read subtitles to keep up. For another, Philip seemed intent on distracting him: playing with his fingers, resting a hand on Eric’s thigh when he’d let go to open his candy. He missed the epilogue entirely because at the big dramatic kiss on screen, Eric had turned to kiss Philip on the cheek and gotten his mouth instead. They stayed lip-locked until the lights came back up and burned against their eyelids.
They headed down the stairs together until the aisle was blocked by a familiar figure.
“Jack?” Eric asked, and the man startled, but when he turned, it was in fact Jack Zimmermann, who rearranged his surprise into a smile.
“Hey, Bittle.” Jack scowled down at the guy still sleeping in his chair, head tipped back, totally asleep.
“I see your friend really enjoyed the movie.”
“Oh, he was riveted.” He gave the guy’s shoulder a final rough shake before rolling his eyes at the lack of response and pinching his friend’s nose. With a snort, the guy woke in a fit of flailing limbs and wild hair, eyes wide. Jack let go of his face and with a shake of his head, the guy seemed to get with the picture.
“Jesus motherfuckin’ Christ, Jack.”
“You fell asleep.”
“You couldn’t have woken me up like a normal person?”
“For the record,” Eric chimed in, “He tried. You were pretty dead to the world.”
“Fuck.” The guy stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “I get to pick the movie next time, you always pick boring shit. It’s my turn.” Jack shrugged, hands in his pockets.
“What can I say, it’s more interesting if you actually watch it.” Stood just behind Eric, Philip cleared his throat and leaned around his date to say,
“Hi! Um, I’m Philip.”
“Oh!” Eric flushed a little. “Where on Earth are my manners. Jack, this is Philip, Philip, this is Jack and…” he gestured at the other guy, who shook Philip’s hand enthusiastically and introduced himself as,
“B. S. Knight at your service, but everybody calls me Shitty.” Philip laughed at that.
“Nice to meet you, Shitty. You too, Jack.” Jack nodded and said,
“Nice to meet you too.” He tugged at Shitty’s arm to get him moving down the stairs as the theater employees started working through the aisles to sweep up fallen popcorn. The four of them headed downstairs in a line, and Shitty looked back at Eric and Philip and asked,
“So, what’re you kids up to now?”
“Oh, um.” Eric looked to Philip, who shrugged back at him. “We were probably gonna go home? Didn’t really have plans past this.”
“Perfect!” Shitty said. “Jack and I are headed over to Jerry’s for night breakfast. You guys should come with us.” Jack shot Shitty a look over his shoulder.
“Don’t feel like you have to,” he told Eric. “You’re welcome to, but if you’ve got curfew or you don’t want us crashing your date…”
“I’m game,” Philip said. “If you’re good to go, Eric?” His curfew was only an hour away, but if he texted mama and said they were going out with Jack…
“It should be fine. Mama probably won’t mind me being late if we’re with Jack. She thinks he’s a ‘very nice young man’,” Eric teased. Jack shook his head.
“You can just say I’m boring,” he told Eric. “I’m fully aware that I’m that friend.”
“Oh come on, you are nice. Let’s get a move on though, I can’t be too late, no matter how well-supervised I am.”
Eric and Philip climbed back into the truck and followed Shitty’s old hatchback to Jerry’s, the streetlights illuminating their faces in flashes as they drove down Main Street.
“So, how do you know those guys?” Philip asked.
“Oh, I haven’t met Shitty before, but Jack’s come over for dinner a couple times. He’s the new quarterback for Samwell.”
“Where’s he from? He sounds French, but like...I think their football is supposed to be different, right?”
“He’s Canadian. Montreal. Apparently they have football up there?” Eric shrugged. “Jack was very surprised to hear that I didn’t know that, but as far as Coach has been concerned, there’s no team worth watching north of the Vikings. And even then, just barely.” Philip laughed.
“They seem nice. You know, for jocks.” Eric hummed in agreement.
The boys occupied a booth in the back corner of the restaurant that was apparently the football team’s regular spot.
“We try to keep out of the way,” Jack explained. “The team can be a bit...rowdy.”
“Who’re you callin’ rowdy?” Shitty protested, putting on an affronted look.
“The guy who got half the team banned from Annie’s.”
“Y’all got banned from Annie’s?” Eric asked, glancing up from his phone where he was texting Mama to make sure it was okay if he was out late.
“I didn’t,” Jack said. “But somebody knocked down their sign with a football and they banned them. And I had to go apologize on behalf of the team. I get the sense that’s going to be one of my main jobs as captain.”
“Hey, better you than Coach. If y’all piss him off, I get extra chores.” Eric’s phone chirped with a reply from his mom: have fun baby! Drive safe and turn the porch light off when you get in, i’m going up to bed. He sent her a quick goodnight and pocketed the phone again.
They lingered over pancakes and coffee for a while, Shitty doing most of the talking, until Jack started yawning and asked their waitress for the bill. Eric and Philip tried to protest letting Jack and Shitty pay for their food, but they just waved them off.
“You were our guests, brah.” Shitty told them. “And besides, I’ll probably just ask Bitty here to be my Annie’s mule to make it up to me.” He winked at Eric, and Jack rolled his eyes.
“You don’t have to enable him,” Jack said. “Feel free to just let him learn his lesson.”
“I didn’t throw the ball!” Shitty argued.
“No, but I know you egged whoever it was on. I just know it.”
“Rude.”
They parted ways shortly after, Jack and Shitty headed back to the dorms, and Eric and Philip headed home. Eric rolled carefully down the long driveway in front of Philip’s house, but slammed on the brakes when Philip’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
“Sorry!” Philip said, letting go quickly. Eric caught his breath from the sudden scare, and smiled, a little tight, but meant to be reassuring.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just still a little nervous about driving in the dark. What’s up?”
“Pull over there,” Philip told him, pointing at a break in the trees with two ruts in the dirt. He was smiling like he had a secret, and Eric found himself nodding, cutting the wheel as he released the brake. He stopped the truck when they reached the end of the path. The only thing out there was a pop-up trailer folded down for the end of the season and a couple of kayaks.
“What did you want -” Philip cut off Eric’s question with a kiss. “Oh.”
“This okay with you?” Eric nodded, reaching for the collar of Philip’s shirt to pull him back in. Their noses kept smushing awkwardly, and there was a little too much tongue, and their teeth clacked together, but it felt good anyway. Philip’s fingers dipped under Eric’s t-shirt, and he pulled his lips away, leaving them both gasping. “Do you actually have abs?” Philip asked. “Like, visibly? Or am I crazy?” Eric blushed, shoulders creeping towards his ears, but a grin spreading across his lips in spite of the embarrassment.
“Figure skating’s pretty rigorous,” he said, in lieu of actually giving an answer, but Philip saw through the modesty and grinned right back at him, pressing their foreheads together.
“That’s hot.” A laugh bubbled up and out of Eric, who hid his face in Philip’s neck until both of their giggles subsided. When they untangled from each other’s arms, Eric chanced a glance at the dashboard clock, and sighed. “Oh no, don’t say it,” Philip pleaded halfheartedly.
“I really gotta get going. It’s late, and I have to meet Katya at the rink for seven tomorrow.” Philip sighed.
“Yeah, I’ve already kept you too long then.”
“I had a really good time though.” He leaned over and kissed him one more time. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
“Text me. When you get home and just, like, in general.” Eric nodded and put the truck back in gear. He backed out to the driveway again and dropped Philip off in front of his house, watching until he waved from the front window to head home himself.
When he got home, Eric found he couldn’t stop smiling and his cheeks didn’t even ache from the effort. As he headed up the front stairs, he remembered to text Philip.
I’m home! Sweet dreams :) <3
He flicked the porch light off and filled the coffee maker in preparation of the absurdly early morning waiting for him.