#alternate title: Jack Zimmermann is not a homophobe

[whoacanada]

NHL!Bitty, Part VI -  ‘The Code’

Origin: From Samwell to Seattle | Pens!AU | Part I - Hug Check | Part II - Chirping |  Part III - Post-Season | Part IV - RPF | Part V - Dating | 

Eric’s teammates are protective of their highly-publicized rookie. Maybe a little too protective. So, when a closeted!Jack gets flirty and starts flustering Eric on the ice, his Schooner teammates conclude that Zimmermann must be harassing Eric and decide to act accordingly. Leaping to Eric’s defense: starting goalie Markus Bay and defenseman Carter Morin. 

(TW: hockey violence, little bit of blood, big ol’ misunderstandings)

“You seeing this?”

Morin slaps Markus on the shoulder and jerks a thumb toward Zimmermann, who is skating determined circles around Bittle. He stops stretching and watches the Falconers forward come close, say something to Eric, and skate away quickly. This happens twice, each time, Bittle flushes and looks upset, but seems to brush it off and go back to his warm-up drills.

“Do you know what he’s saying?” Markus asks, hoping for some kind of reasonable explaination.

“No, but, just watch, man.”

Zimmermann comes in close again, this time with Mashkov in tow, and Eric doesn’t flinch, but he does something, skating away quickly as the two Falconers laugh. Again, Bittle looks uncomfortable.

“Didn’t they play together?” Markus asks. “Why’s Zimmermann being a dick now?”

Carter fusses with his helmet and waits for several of the guys to clear the ice. 

“I know Eric doesn’t like people getting in his shit, but he’s been torn up about playing the Falconers. You can’t tell anybody, but I totally heard him crying one night and Zimmermann’s name came up. I guess Bittle had a crush on him in college or something,” Carter explains, worrying his mouthguard. “Shit, maybe Zimmermann found out and that’s why he’s being a dick. You think we should tell Cricket?”

“And tell him what? The Falconers’ Captain is harassing Bittle? No, we can handle this. Just, hold off until we know for sure.”

“Look, Eric may be above going after his old liney, but I’m not.” Carter says, tapping his stick against Markus�� skate blade. “We got this.”

“We got this,” Markus echoes, already watching Zimmermann like a hawk. 

Bay follows Zimmermann all night, and not just because he’s the one pulling breakaway after breakaway. As the minutes pass, Markus’ anger only grows. 

This is the asshole that Bittle still cries over, the fucker that wields Eric's college crush like blunt instrument.

At the end of the second the Falconers are up by two, the Schooners’ only goal so far coming from Cricket off Eric’s assist, but it hasn’t been enough. In fairness maybe Markus has been slightly distracted, paying more attention to Zimmermann’s playing style than the rest of his team.

At the buzzer, Carter skates up, breathless, “Zimms is still all over Bittle, should I lay him out?”

“Let me handle it, you have too many penalty minutes already. Tell Bittle we’ve got his back.”

“Copy.”

His moment comes late in the third period. The Falcs are still up by two, despite his best efforts, so he makes a judgment call. Not that Bittle needs the help, but this is more about making a statement — letting everyone know exactly the kind of person Jack Zimmermann is, and telling everyone in the league that the Schooners won’t tolerate disrespect.

On the next play, the Falcs get close, too close, and Zimmermann is so focused on the puck that he’s caught completely off guard when Markus drops a knee (and a glove) to drive his fist right up under Zimmermann’s face mask. Markus feels something shift beneath his knuckles and knows he's struck pay-dirt when Zimmermann wheels back, nose gushing red.

He’s still reeling in shock when Markus hauls him back in, before their teammates can figure out what the hell is happening, and snarls, “Stay the fuck away from Bittle or your nose won't be the only thing I break, pretty-boy.”

Markus can see the moment his words register, and Zimmermann’s anger slides to confusion.

“Bitty? You think I --” Zimmermann doesn’t finish his thought because St. Martin is dragging him back to the bench so he doesn’t bleed all over the ice.

Markus fist-bumps Morin and is planning to take the penalty gracefully, a worthy punishment for defending a teammate’s honor, but Bittle gets in his face, furious.

“What the hell was that? What happened?”

“Accident,” Markus shrugs. “But maybe now he won’t fuck with you.”

“Excuse me?” The linesman waves Bittle off but he won’t go. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Markus!”

He settles in the box, avoids making eye contact with Bittle, who is staring daggers, or Zimmermann, who still looks like he’s trying to figure out what the hell just happened, and immediately starts poking at his swelling knuckles.

He sent a message tonight, he hopes it was the right one.

They lose, which isn’t a surprise, but the biggest shock is that Carter and Markus do not get the grateful thanks they were expecting.

“Jesus, he’s my friend!” Eric shouts after the last reporter has gone. “He was joking! And you broke his fucking nose?!”

“It didn’t look like he was joking,” Carter defends, stripping off his socks. “You weren’t laughing.”

“You don’t understand, it’s,” Eric cuts off with a huff, head bowed like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. “Jack’s...one of my best friends. I’ve been worried about playing against him because I’ve only ever played with him, and he is definitely not homophobic.”

He takes a look around the locker room and finds a number of the guys refusing to make eye contact.

“Y’all were really trying to protect me, weren’t you?” Eric asks, and a majority of the guys nod, which is slightly infuriating because Markus is the one who spent time in the box tonight.

“Aw, hell. Alright.” He points at Markus, then Carter.“You two, stay with me. We’re going to have a chat.”

Zimmermann is waiting for them in the hallway, doing his best impression of a raccoon with his twin black eyes and swollen face. Mashkov hovering at a polite distance, obviously there to prevent potential escalation.

“You broke my nose.” Zimmermann tells Markus the second the doors close, words thick around his injury. “So, thanks for that.”

“Sorry about that, buddy, it was a misunderstanding.” Markus apologizes.

Eric motions to Jack, who could be scowling but Markus really can’t tell. “Boys, this is Jack Zimmermann. Jack, Markus Bay and Carter Morin, the well-intentioned defenders of my honor.” 

Eric takes Jack’s hand and that is...unexpected. 

“Jack is my boyfriend. But it’s still a secret so don’t go running your damn fool mouths.”

“Oh, fuck,” Carter blurts. “Really? Shit, I’m so sorry, we thought you were...you know.”

“Yeah, I know what you thought,” Jack says. “Thank you for looking out for him, but fuck you both.”

Markus offers his hand, still swollen from the hit, and Zimmermann takes it. “Sorry I broke your nose, but you can take comfort knowing that I’ll do the same to anyone stupid enough to come after your boy in the future.”

In response, Zimmermann offers a pained smile while Bittle just holds up a middle finger.