Work Text:
Bitty was toweling off his hair when he heard his phone buzz. Resigned to the fact that the Georgia humidity was going to ruin any careful sculpting he wanted to do, Bitty huffed a sigh and went to check his phone.
J-Z: Thank you for the cookies, Bittle.
Bitty grinned at the text. He paused before typing, wondering if he shouldn’t cover himself up before responding to Jack. He gnawed his lip for a minute and smiled. Well, if he got a little thrill out of texting his crush in the buff – that was between him and the lord, no reason for Jack Zimmermann to worry his pretty little head over it.
Me: Anytime, honey.
Bitty sighed and flopped on his bed, phone resting on his chest. Lord, just thinking about that boy made him feel flushed. He gave a little yelp when the phone buzzed again, sending a tingle through his body.
J-Z: What are you up to?
“This boy,” Bitty said to Señor Bun, who offered Bitty a sympathetic look.
Me: Nothing much. Just working out and eating more protein!
J-Z: Haha.
“Lord, he puts a period after everything,” Bitty showed the text to Bun.
Me: I am! I’ve been doing the chest press variations you showed me, I think it’s made a big difference.
J-Z: Yeah?
“Yeah?” Bitty looked at Bun. “What the hell does yeah mean?”
It sounded kind of like flirting, but one never knew with Jack. He could just want Bitty’s new chest measurements to mark off on some sort of Team Workout Progress chart he made in his spare time.
“He’s not flirting, Jack isn’t programmed to flirt…right?”
Bun didn’t seem to have a lot of thoughts on the subject. Bitty looked at the text one more time and screwed up his mouth. Well, Jack wanted to know about his progress, maybe Bitty should show him. Just because Jack was a hockey robot didn’t mean Bitty couldn’t have a little harmless fun flirting.
“He’ll probably just think it’s informative, right?”
Before Bun could talk him out of it, Bitty hopped up. Running a hand through his hair, Bitty held out the camera, made his signature selfie face, framed the shot to show off his chest and abs, and flexed his pecs. His heart was hammering, so he took one second to check his face in the picture and then immediately sent it to Jack.
Me: Much better, right?
Bitty sat his phone down and shivered, the AC finally driving him to put some clothes on. When he was decent, he checked his phone – no new messages.
Bitty frowned. Not even a haha for his efforts? That was disappointing. On a whim, he checked the conversation – maybe Jack had responded and his phone had just failed to notify him? Bitty looked at the texts, nothing since he sent the picture.
The picture.
What was that in the background?
Bitty pulled up the pic and promptly dropped his phone.
His mirror. The full-length mirror that Moomaw had given to him on his 14th birthday. Bitty hadn’t even noticed it behind him. Sadly the camera had, offering the viewer a full-length view of Bitty’s completely naked backside.
“Oh God,” Bitty whispered, wrapping Bun in a panicked hug. “I just sexted Jack Zimmermann.”
-XXX-
Jack stared unseeing at his laptop, his cell on the floor where he dropped it.
Bitty’s ass was on his phone. Bitty’s bare ass. Bitty’s bare, tight, fucking perfect ass was just sitting on his home screen.
Bitty couldn’t have possibly meant to send that photo. He probably didn’t see the mirror. There was no way Bitty knew about Jack’s little crush. He had been so low key about the whole thing. Still, he needed to do something.
Jack opened up Google and took a deep breath.
How do you save a cellphone picture to your hard drive?
How do you blow up cellphone images?
Enhance cellphone images?
Jack sunk a hand into his hair and slammed his laptop shut. Great, not only was he a stalker, but now Google knew about it too. If Bitty hadn’t meant to send that picture, then he was basically violating his privacy just looking at it. Right? But Bitty did send the picture…
Jack stared at his half-hard dick, wondering if it was morally ok to masturbate to a picture that might have been sent accidentally.
He needed advice and obviously he couldn’t trust himself to Google it.
Me: I have a question.
Shits: My gorgeous maple dipped moose, how can I help?
Me: Hypothetically: If a friend you had a hypothetical crush on sent you a photo that hypothetically had their bare ass in it – would it be morally wrong to save that pic?
Me: Hypothetically.
Jack drummed his fingers on his closed laptop. He resisted the urge to check Bitty’s convo and make sure the pic was still there.
Shits: I think you hypothetically owe Bits a dick pic
Me: I SAID IT WAS HYPOTHETICAL.
Shits: Don’t make me bring Rans and Holster in on this… We all know, you heart-eyed plate of muscular poutine .
Shits: #ShowBitsYourBits2k17
Me: I can’t make the first move
Shits: Good News! Sending someone an ass shot is considered the first move.
Shits: Now, it’s your move, Jack.
-XXX-
Bitty had flour in his hair and a lump of dough before him. He was stress kneading to beat the band, but the wild panic in his chest would not subside.
He’d ruined everything.
He’d never had a chance with Jack, any fool could see that, but now? Now, he wouldn’t even get to be friends with him. There had to be a way to fix this. Maybe if he sent a different maple pie every day for the rest of break? Or protein? Maybe he should send protein…
Bitty threw the dough into the fridge and grabbed his phone. Still no new text from Jack. He needed advice. He needed a friendly ear. He needed to do something before he exploded.
Me: Hi! you have a minute?
Shitty: For my darling Bitty? I have all the time in the world!
Me: I need advice for a friend.
Shitty: I’m great at advice!
Me: my friend accidentally sent a nude to another friend
Me: like accidentally, totally innocently
Shitty: Hypothetically, I would ask for a copy of this nude to judge the severity.
Me: this is serious!!!!
Me: my friend hasn’t gotten a response in like 20 minutes
Me: that’s forever even for Jack!
Bitty realized he’d written Jack a second after he hit send. Lord, he was going to have to start checking his texts before sending!
Shitty: Your friend sent nudes to Jack?
Shitty: Was it me?
Me: >:(
Shitty: Look, maybe Jack is genuinely upset.
Bitty felt his heart stop.
Shitty: Or maybe that pic short-circuited the hockey robot and Jack spent 20 mins trying to Google how to print a cell photo in poster size.
Shitty: One of those is def the answer
Bitty’s mouth dropped open. What? Was Shitty kidding?
Me: B. Knight, r u messin w me?
Before Shitty could respond, Bitty got a text. Jack had sent him a photo. With shaking hands, Bitty pulled up the image.
Jack was in the bathroom, red-faced and smiling sheepishly. He was standing with the large wall mirror behind him, completely nude except for a notepad. Bitty almost dropped the phone when he saw how perfectly that hockey ass was framed in the shot.
Bitty told himself he was enlarging the picture just to see what was written on the notepad. He almost believed himself.
Call me if you want to compare squat routines.
Bitty ran, slamming into his room and locking the door as he hit dial.
“Bits?” Bitty could hear the nerves in Jack’s voice, it made him smile.
“Hi, Jack.”