#checkplease fanfiction

[effyeahzimbits]

PB&J: Closing the Distance

Now that it’s past September 20th, I can reveal the story that I wrote for the @omgcpheartbreakfest angst fest! So please find below some angsty Pimmbits goodness <3

Title: Closing the Distance

Rating: M

Pairing: Pimmbits/PB&J/Jack/Bitty/Parse

Summary: In which Jack does lots of unnecessary pining. AU where Kent joins the Falconers. Read on A03 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11759022

Or underneath the cut :)

Jack was in deep shit.

    He could see it in the way Kent’s blonde hair would flop over his forehead after he took his helmet off. He could see it in the way his grey-green eyes lit up with excitement before a match. He could see it in the way his long fingers curled tightly around his stick. He could see it in the way his broad shoulders squared before he would take a shot. He could see it in the way he lovingly cooed to his spoilt cat. And Jack could see it in the way his abs glistened under the water when the team showered.

    Jack was most certainly in deep shit.

    He tore his eyes away from Kent’s body and stared very hard at the damp tiles in front of him as he fought to get a grip on himself. He’d spent many a cold shower trying to force unwanted images from his mind. Well. Unwanted wasn’t the right word. It was more like inappropriate. Thinking about his new teammate and ex-whatever-they-were completely naked in the shower was untimely, but he usually did it anyway.

    Kent had been with the Falconers for almost five months. Jack thought it wouldn’t be a problem. He’d been very wrong. It was a huge problem, just not in the way he’d originally anticipated. He and Kent had made amends a couple of years ago, when Jack formally and publicly came out to the world as bisexual. Kent had thought the move incredibly brave, and had followed suit in revealing his own homosexuality a few days later. A couple more NHL and AHL players shared their sexualities too after that.

    Saddled with You Can Play responsibilities as well as team promotions and public appearances and interviews, Jack and Kent reconciled their differences. It was at first only for PR’s sake, but after months of overly polite and tense conversations, the awkwardness melted away. It left behind a close friendship that neither of them had prepared for. Both were grown adults that had come to terms with their own demons, and no longer felt anger and betrayal towards the other. The smiles became genuine, the chirping frequent, and the bond between them grew strong again.

    Kent’s contract with the Aces had ended last season, and when it became clear that it wasn’t going to be renewed, Jack had a quiet word with Georgia. He’d talked it over with Bitty, his parents, even his therapist, and had finally come to the conclusion that he was ready to play with Kent once again. An offer was drawn up, and that summer Kent was recruited into the Falconers as Jack’s alternate captain.

    And it had been magic between them from the get go. Jack had almost forgotten the thrill he felt when playing with Kent, but the second they stepped onto the ice together it all came rushing back. They didn’t need to speak. Their bodies fell into rhythm once more, as if the last twelve years hadn’t happened and they were still at the Q together. Except now they were both faster, stronger, wiser, and made a formidable duo. It was February now, and the Falconers were well on their way to clinching a playoff spot.

   No, the problem hadn’t come from playing together again. The problem was Kent himself. Jack remembered everything about Kent, just as he remembered nothing about him. The dimples in his cheeks had been there when they were seventeen, but the guardedness in his smile hadn’t been. His hair was still just as messy, but his eyes were harder. There was still a map of freckles along his shoulder blades, but the fingers on his left hand were slightly crooked now, shattered by a rogue puck three years ago.

    Jack wondered how much of himself had changed and what was still the same. He wondered how much of it Kent noticed.

    At first, it wasn’t an issue. He had been so excited to have Kent playing on his line again, and his teammates could see that in every smile and every step on the ice. Even Bitty, who hadn’t been Kent’s biggest fan after that one fateful kegster, had started to see how much happier Jack was for having Kent in his life again. Bitty would never attempt to explain it, but he’d often thought that Jack and Kent just had this magnetic pull towards one another that would never break. It might not have been the healthiest thing during the last few months of the Q and the aftermath of Jack’s overdose, but that was all behind them now. Bitty wasn’t concerned any longer.

    And so, their friendship flourished. Off the ice they would hang out, the old banter and comradery still there as they worked out together, or chilled in their apartments, or went out to dinner. Bitty was never excluded, and now there was no animosity, he and Kent grew close together too. They would go shopping, or to farmer’s markets and flea markets. Bitty would run ahead, buying crates of plump peaches, or new throw cushions, and Jack and Kent would trail behind, chirping one another and carrying the bags. It was a happy medium.

    Until it suddenly wasn’t.

    On hindsight, it probably started from the moment Kent turned up to the first summer training session. Jack clearly remembered his unkept hair poking out of his backwards Falcs cap, and the familiar lopsided grin on his friend’s face. The way Kent had almost sung the words ‘Sup, Zimms?’ took him straight back to when they were seventeen and amid their chaotic romance, if one could call it that. He could barely mutter out his own reply, and his cheeks must have been bright red because Tater and Poots had instantly started catcalling.

    The weird, fluttery feeling vanished as soon as the talk turned to serious hockey, and Jack slipped into his captain mode with ease. The moment was forgotten, but it wasn’t long before Jack would feel it happening again. His eyes would find Kent’s across the crowded locker room, and there would be a soft smile shared, before Snowy would swat Kent’s ass with a wound-up towel, or Tater would manhandle Jack into wrestling him. Or when Kent was over for pie on a Sunday afternoon (Kent’s favourite was raspberry and dark chocolate), and Jack gazed at Kent and Bitty dancing around the kitchen as they flicked flour at one another. It was little moments like that that reminded him of his senior year at college, when he had begun to fall in love with Bitty.

    Fast forward six months, and Jack was well aware of what was happening by now. He wasn’t stupid, and almost an expert at checking in with himself and assessing how he felt. He was in love with Kent all over again. And it was tearing him up inside. He knew he didn’t love Bitty any less, because every time he set eyes on Bitty’s adorable freckles, or he heard that sweet Southern voice chirp him, or he felt honey kisses on his cheek, Jack knew he actually loved him more with each passing second.

    Bitty was his everything.

    And that was why guilt ate at him constantly. He hated how his stomach would churn when Kent flashed a grin at him. He hated how his heart would stutter when Kent gave him a tight hug. He hated how he shivered with arousal when he happened to steal a glimpse of Kent’s sharp, defined shoulder blades when he was tugging off his shirt in the locker room. It felt like a betrayal. He would enjoy the fleeting thrill for the briefest of seconds, and then the self-loathing would creep up on him and swallow him whole.

    He didn’t dare tell anyone, not even his therapist, who held everything within the strictest confidence. He feared that speaking the words aloud would make him snap. He was already so close. He had been married to Bitty for over a year now, he shouldn’t want anybody else. It was selfish. And it wasn’t like Bitty didn’t fulfil everything for him, because he did, and more. It wasn’t like there were gaps in their relationship he thought Kent could fill. He loved Bitty more than anything in the world. The problem was, he loved Kent too.

    He spent every waking moment fretting about it. Bitty could never find out. He would be so upset, and Jack couldn’t lose him. Losing Bitty was an unspeakable fear that he could barely even acknowledge. So, telling him was out of the question. And Kent could never find out either. Kent was another constant in his life that he couldn’t do without, not again. It had been so hard to cut him out after the overdose, and even after all those years, he still ached for him. He had still melted into him at that kegster despite the harsh words and years of broken friendship. He couldn’t do it again. They had never spoken about whatever their relationship had been, and Jack didn’t dare open fresh wounds for either of them. If Kent didn’t feel the same way, then Jack would lose him too.

    Kent feeling the same way was a possibility Jack wouldn’t allow himself to consider. It would just make everything ten times worse. Choosing between Bitty and Kent would be a heart-breaking dilemma. Ultimately, he would choose Bitty, but hurting Kent would kill him. It was best to leave things as they were, where he could suffer in silence and not have to think about choosing between them.

    And boy was he suffering. It hadn’t affected his game, yet, but that was a constant worry too. As of yet he’d managed to leave his anxiety behind in the locker room and be their captain without an issue. But he knew it was just a matter of time before that façade started to slip too. He’d stopped going to team dinners, and trips to the bar, and S.O.A.P BBQs. It was hell of a lot harder to control himself when they were off the ice, and even more so when there was alcohol involved. It wasn’t a problem for either of them now, but after a few beers Jack knew he became less guarded and more relaxed. That was usually a good thing, but when Kent became rosy cheeked and affectionate and quick to laugh after his own beers, Jack didn’t want to risk anything.

    It was both easier and harder around Bitty. Easier because Bitty reminded him of everything on the line, and harder because they were both just so perfect and made his heart swell. The result was a stiffness and a fear that they would catch onto him. He would find himself making excuses to leave the room, or even worse, cancel on Kent unexpectedly. It hurt him to do, but it was better than the alternative. He always struggled to sleep afterwards, overwhelmed with guilt and worry, and it wasn’t uncommon for Bitty to find him still awake at five am when he had to get up for his shift at the bakery.

    It was starting to take its toll on his appearance too. He’d noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes from the lack of sleep. He always felt exhausted, and was distracted easily, twitching and jumping at the slightest thing. He was starting to get sick of lying when people asked him what was wrong. There were only so many ways he could say he’d just had a bad night’s sleep. He knew Bitty was getting more and more worried about him, but there was nothing he could do. He just had to keep powering through.

    He tore his eyes away from the expanse of creamy skin of Kent’s back, and forced himself to continue strapping on his armour. Sometimes it felt like the days in the Q, where he had to take each day as it came. Sometimes it felt like he was battling the anxiety again, unable to find a second to breathe. He had a weird sense of déjà vu as he focussed on tying knots, and had to take a moment to listen to the voices around him. That was Tater. And Snowy. And Poots. He wasn’t in the Q. He wasn’t seventeen. He was twenty-nine and playing in the Falconers.

    He could do this.

    He moved in an almost dream-like state, standing at the door of the locker room and waiting for the rest of his team to head out into the tunnel before him. He gave them all a stiff smile and a stiffer nod as they passed him. Kent left last, and Jack’s smile softened against his will. He didn’t get a nod, and Kent moved in for his customary tight hug. Jack took a deep breath as Kent held him against his chest, letting the familiarity comfort and ground him. Kent pulled back with a big grin and led the way out onto the rink. Jack steeled himself and then followed him.

    The cold air helped. He breathed deep and let the chill fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. He blocked out the roar of the crowd and the drone of the commentators with relative ease and managed to put on his hockey blinkers. He knew Bitty would be in the S.O.A.P’s box, so he flashed a smile in that general direction before gliding out onto the ice and beginning the warm up. Just another game in the eighty-two.

    The game started off well for the Falconers. Jack was magic on the ice as usual, bouncing off Kent’s assists as if they were one being. The third period began with a bang, and the opposing team seemed to have had a fire lit beneath him. Jack gritted his teeth and skated harder, determined not to let the puck slip by their defence. The rest of his team were struggling to keep the game clean, taking the checks and resisting the urge to drop their gloves. It wasn’t ideal, but Jack was grateful. If he had to keep his wits about him to stay on his feet then he didn’t have to think about Kent.

    He was doing well for most of the allocated ice time, and finally there was only twenty minutes to go. The Falcs were leading three to two, and Jack found the puck in his possession once again. Another goal wasn’t necessary, but it wouldn’t hurt. He pumped his legs and kept low to the ice, weaving in and out between other players with expert precision. Ahead, he saw Kent out of the corner of his eye, and couldn’t resist the small smile. Kent always knew where he needed to be. As soon as there was an opening, he fired the puck in Kent’s direction.

   Kent received it with ease, and was off in a second. Kent was almost as fast as Bitty, and Jack always responded well to his speed. He followed his teammate, ready to seize ownership of the puck if Kent needed to double back. As Kent neared the other team’s goal though, Jack became aware of one of the opposing team’s defencemen suddenly heading in Kent’s direction. Kent’s head was bowed, too busy concentrating on the dark puck on the white ice and guiding it home.

    For the briefest second, time seemed to stop. Jack’s breath caught in his throat and his stick slipped in his hands. Everything sped up again and he was filled with a sudden need to get there, now. He couldn’t let that guy get any closer to Kent. It was irrational. This was hockey. They were at risk of getting hurt at every turn. But something told Jack he just couldn’t risk Kent being in danger. He willed his legs to skate faster, ignoring the burn in them as he powered on.

    He didn’t make it.

    The puck bolted past him somewhere to his left, but he didn’t see it. The defenceman struck Kent on his left slide, slamming him straight into the glass so hard it trembled in its frame. Jack seemed to watch it in slow motion, his eyes tracking the rise of Kent’s body, and then its impact against the surface. Time sped up again when Kent slumped to the floor. For the most awful second, Jack feared he wasn’t going to get back up again. But then Kent groaned and clutched his head with a shaky hand.

     Jack let out a shaky breath, feeling his legs turn to jelly as their trainer, Scott, headed straight onto the ice. Kent got to his feet, but wobbled dangerously, and Scott escorted him off the ice. Kent glanced over his shoulder and threw him a crooked smile before he disappeared. He was going to be okay, but that didn’t stop Jack’s heart from hammering in his chest, or the tingling from creeping up his fingers. He tried to breathe deep, ignoring the roaring in his ears. He needed to get off the ice. Now.

    Coach Maunder seemed to understand and waved him off, their second line instantly vaulting over the board and onto the ice for the final fifteen minutes. Jack staggered back onto solid ground, yanking off his helmet and tossing it aside. His skates followed, tugging them off between awkward, hurried steps. He ignored his teammates and hurried down the tunnel in his socks. No one stopped him, knowing an attack would be imminent if he couldn’t get to Kent. The only thing that comforted him was knowing that Bitty would be on his way to Scott’s examination room too.

    He broke out into a run as soon as he was out of the tunnel, tearing down the corridor and into the training room. The staff hung back, giving him clear access. They were all aware of Jack’s need to ensure all his teammates were okay. He caught himself at the open door, hanging off the frame, and let out a trembling sigh of relief when he saw Kent sat up on the bed, wide eyed but otherwise okay. Scott glanced up from checking his pupils and lifted an eyebrow at him, but was silent.

    “Aw man, Zimms,” Kent scoffed, rolling his eyes and ignoring Scott tutting at him. “I’m fine, you didn’t have to follow me.”

    Jack didn’t respond. Relief flooded his chest and he visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping. He suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. He ducked out of the room again and hurried down the hallway again. He didn’t stop until he was by the locker room entrance. Instead of going inside, where his teammates would be in a short time, he slid down the wall until he was sitting. He dug his fingers into his damp, scruffy hair, and took long, measured breaths. It was awkward in his bulky armour, but he counted the length of the inhales and the exhales until his heart stopped its racing. It didn’t stop his eyes from burning though.

    This was enough now. He nearly made a very grave mistake on the ice there. The different scenarios ran amok in his head, none of them good. He couldn’t show favouritism on the ice like that. He could have put himself or Kent in danger of a bad check, and could have lost the game. That wasn’t good enough. As the captain of the Falconers, he owed his team hell of a lot more than that. This needed to stop. One way or another.

    He couldn’t lose Bitty. But he didn’t have to lose Kent as a friend either. He would have to get over these ridiculous feelings before he got himself into serious trouble. His throat prickled at the mere thought of it. He couldn’t have Kent. He needed to accept that. It was selfish of him to want Kent when he already cherished Bitty so much. It wasn’t fair to anyone, and it wasn’t fair to keep putting himself through all this suffering and worrying those that he loved.

    He didn’t know how long he sat there for. After a while, he felt someone slide down the wall and sit beside him, all broad shoulders and huge thighs. He didn’t look to see who it was. He was breathing semi-normally now, but he knew he must still look like a wreck. He didn’t speak. His throat was too tight to force out any words.

    “I see what happening here,” Tater’s voice announced quietly.

    Jack’s brow furrowed and his stomach gave a sickening lurch, but he still didn’t speak. Tater didn’t know what he was talking about. He was a gossip, not because he was spiteful, but because he had a genuine interest in his friends’ lives. Jack didn’t dare ask him what he meant, but the fear started to gnaw at him instantly.

    “You love B. More than anything in world, no?” Tater continued, not put off by his silence in the slightest. When Jack nodded, Tater sympathetically patted his knee. “Shows on face, Zimmboni, we all know that. But…” He lowered his voice conspiratorially and leaned in. “Know what else shows on face? Love for K.”

    Jack didn’t gasp, but it was a near thing. Instead he inhaled sharply and seized the fabric of his pants, his knuckles white. He was fucked. He thought he’d been so careful, so discreet. But if Tater knew, then the whole team had probably noticed too. And that meant Kent must know too. And Bitty. Oh fuck.

    “Relax,” Tater murmured soothingly, patting his knee again with all the strength of an elevator. “You worry over nothing, Zimmboni. You be honest with B, he understand.”

    “No,” Jack finally managed to grind out, shaking his head in defeat. “He can’t know, Tater. I can’t lose him.”

    “Sometimes I think life too short to love one person, you know?” Tater hummed thoughtfully. Jack stared at him in disbelief. “Some people have one soul mate. Others have more.”

    “Tater,” Jack began weakly, blinking at him. “What are you saying?”

    “I’m saying you should smooch Aces rat,” Tater smirked. The insult had turned into a fond nickname for Kent long ago. “He and B might surprise you.”

    Before Jack could stammer out any kind of reply, Tater winked at him and rose to his feet with a gracefulness that a man his size shouldn’t possess. Jack stared after him, struggling to comprehend what the hell just happened. Did Tater just encourage him to kiss Kent? And tell Bitty? But that was absurd. That would be asking for trouble.

    But the way Tater had said it…it was almost a guarantee that Bitty and Kent would be fine with it. How would Tater know that? What did he know that Jack didn’t? Jack took another deep, wobbly breath and then shook his head. No. Tater was wrong. He would stick to his original plan. He would get over Kent. And the first thing he needed to do was make sure he was okay.

    He staggered to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his knees. He padded back to the training room with a lot less haste, feeling bone weary. When he stepped inside, he was greeted with Bitty sat on the bed facing Kent, looking smart in dark chinos, and wearing a serious expression. Scott was nowhere to be found, and they were both talking to each other in low voices. When they saw that Jack was there, they both stopped and gave him disarming smiles.

    All thoughts of getting over Kent instantly left his brain. He couldn’t. They were both just so perfect to him in every way. They both brought out the best in him, and Tater was right. He loved them both, no one more than the other, just both, wholly and completely. The revelation finally made something inside him snap.

    “I love you,” he said weakly, hating how strained his voice sounded. He swallowed and tried again, but he sounded just as choked. “I love both of you.”

    He wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, anger and disbelief maybe, so he was thoroughly shell-shocked when they both smiled at him. Kent’s was his usual charming and crooked grin, and Bitty’s beaming face glowed like the sun. Jack stared at them, unable to speak.

    “Oh honey,” Bitty sighed happily, his voice warm like molten sugar. “We know.” He said simply.

    “Wh-what?”

    “We know,” Kent repeated, face almost splitting in two with his huge smile. “Feeling’s mutual, Zimms. Love you too.”

    Jack stared. Was he dead? Was he dreaming? Did he take a check after all and was hallucinating? He didn’t know, but the feeling of his body soaring was real enough. This wasn’t a joke. This was real. He got to have this.

     “Kent and I were talking,” Bitty went on to explain, holding out his hand. Jack took it and stepped close, feeling numb. “We know how you’ve been feeling, and we know how this has been eating you up inside. We have a solution.” He paused to glance at Kent and then back at Jack, grinning even wider. “What do you say to Kent joining our relationship?”

    Simply enough, Jack didn’t know what to say. Include Kent in their relationship? It was a crazy idea, but it sounded so beautiful coming from Bitty’s mouth, like the stuff of dreams. Fuck it would be hard work, and would require a lot of talking, which wasn’t Jack’s favourite, but he owed it to them and he owed it to himself to give it a go. Two boyfriends. Shit.

    Slowly, a smile spread across his face and he nodded.

    “So, is that a yes?” Kent smirked, lifting an eyebrow.

    “Yes,” Jack agreed quickly, his body suddenly on fire with the need to kiss him. He clenched and unclenched his fists, itching to feel his skin beneath his fingertips. “Yes.”

    “Then why don’t you get your butt over here and kiss me?”

    Jack closed the distance.

    The end.

I hope you enjoyed reading this! The original prompt requested Shitty being Jack’s relationship guru, but this seemed to fit the story better. I imagine Shitty's advice would have gone something like this...

Shitty: Jack. Jack motherfucking Zimmermann. Canadian Adonis. Fruit of my loins. Apple of my eye. Just fucking bone him, brah, you'll feel a lot better for it. Monogomy is a social construct designed by the fuckers who seek to control society through conformity. Fight the man, Jackie boy. Go forth and create a whole hareem of handsome men and women and everyone in between if your heart desires. Just talk to Bits first though, yeah? Communication is key and all that good shit.

[emmasfanfictionlibrary]

Here We Are, Two Strangers

By CoffeeStars on AO3

“Alternatively, ‘Kent and Alexei’s Guide on How to Screw Around and (Not) Talk about Feelings’

The year in which Kent Parson, famous NHL player and renowned (read: lonely) party animal, reads trashy erotic novels, fails to learn Russian from Alexei’s mom through elaborate contemporary dance, co-adopts a dog, and fucks his way into domesticity and, surprisingly, a functional relationship.“

This is one of the fics that got me into Patater. Basically, Kent’s kinda dumb and emotionally stunted but we love him anyway.

[blepbean]

collapsing everything he once knew, chapter 19: on the ice

He notices Devy give him the thumbs when he walks past him, next to him Whiskey gives him a court nod with a gentle smile. This is it, this is what it all leads up to. He’s grown up in Maine and if he could, he would be able to dig his hands into the earth of his hometown and recall the memories that haunt him, those memories and experiences didn’t make him better.

It’s himself that did.

He’s grown up around ice hockey, he still remembers the first time he’s fallen when learning how to skate. He remembers the games he’s played in high school, thinking that this is all he’ll ever be, just a kid with anger issues from Maine, only knowing how to handle a hockey stick. Despite all of it, he’s here, it’s like a middle finger to his dad.

“Come on,” Dex says, “let’s get on the ice.”

[ebjameston]

Accidentally wrote 12K of another Check Please WIP while I should have been working on my OTHER Check Please WIP

...but this one is an HGTV AU?!? So there’s that???

[purplehoodiesandleatherjackets]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Check Please! (Webcomic) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter Characters: Derek "Nursey" Nurse, William "Dex" Poindexter, Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Jack Zimmermann, Shitty Knight, Larissa "Lardo" Duan Additional Tags: awkward pining, "I can fix that" trope, more awkward pining, Dex is a handyman at an apartment complex, Nursey is a pharmacist, shenanigans ensue, It feels weird calling them Derek and Will., but it made sense for the story... Summary: When William Poindexter comes down with an uncomfortable double infection that leads him to the hospital pharmacy, the last thing on earth he expects, or wants, is to be met face to face with the most beautiful pharmacy technician - no, most beautiful man - he's ever seen. If only he, himself, wasn't awkward around hot guys...and didn't look like death warmed over.

[petals42]

i wish you'd write a fic about those tweets where bitty says he's now contractually obligated to send morning selfies (imagine if he has to send them even if he's in providence but he woke up and jack left for his run)

1. You sent this 7 months ago. So… oops. My bad. (*jean ralphio voice* this is how I handle Prooo-oompts)

BUT

2. The literal only thing my angst brain can come up with is: later in life Jack either gets hurt during a game or is in a car accident or something and falls into a coma.

I’m not going to write this but it is sad. It is angsty. The whole fic would be about how the boys come back together to support Bitty during this whole thing. IDK. I don’t want to write it because too much sadness. There are chapters where Alicia sits next to his bedside and hates that he looks just like he did when he– and sobs and Bob comes in to hold her and then they both try to put on brave faces for Bitty when he comes in but he is too numb to even notice them and doesn’t look over. Shitty remains strong, strong, strong, of course he’ll make it through, my boy Jack, i’m not worried at all, just taking his sweet time, don’t worry ill pick up food, bitty ill drive you home, i can handle all of it, dont worry about a thing, who needs coffee?, ill keep just talking to jack like he’s there, he’s gonna wake up any second, no doubt, but then like fucking breaks down at some point and Bitty ends up holding him for a while and the two just fucking lose it and good LORD i’ve got to stop what the fuck is my brain doing. ANYWAY. 

BUT THEN!!! Jack wakes up. A bit groggy at first. But his whole family– Bitty, his parents, Shitty, all the boys and Lardo– are around him and, hell, he’s on painkillers, he doesn’t know how horrifying this was so Jack wakes up and he’s a little high and he knows Bitty was scared but he’s Jack Zimmermann and he will chirp when he wants to chirp so–

“How long was I out?” he asks. To be honest, he is expecting the number to be in hours.

“Don’t worry about that now, man,” Shitty says, weeping. “You’re alright. That’s what matters.”

“Mhmm,” Jack says. He is feeling pretty good. “But how long?”

There are exchanged glances and this is Jack’s first time being awake for longer than a few minutes but finally–

“Dude, you’ve been out for 9 days, sleeping beauty,” Lardo finally says. “Really being a drama queen.”

Jack blinks. That is… well that is concerning. But then he looks over and sees that Bitty looks like he’s about to start crying again and his eyes are already red and swollen so Jack doesn’t want that. He wants–

“Swawesome,” he says, just to make his team relax a little. Then smiles at Bitty. “Nine selfies for me.”

And Bitty bursts into laughter and also tears because he had kept sending them. Every morning. Even though it was terrible and he looked terrible and it was so hard but he couldn’t stop, not when Jack expected one every morning and if he stopped, it meant Jack wasn’t coming back and so he had sent them. Every morning. Even though Jack’s phone was out of battery and no one had thought to bother to plug it in.

Jack is fading now. He can feel it and Bitty is sort of crying and flailing like he wants to hit him.

“Dirty,” Jack manages. “I hope they’re dirty.”

“You asshole,” Bitty says, grinning and his light slap to Jack’s arm is the last thing Jack feels as he drifts off to sleep.

He’s not worried though. Bitty and his selfies will be there when he wakes up.

[fromyourrafterstoyourrails]

What is this? a Fic Review 👀

Have you ever read a story that changed your life? Ok, I’m overexaggerating a bit, but what else is the internet for. At about 7AM EST this morning, I was in my bed looking desperately for more WTF content (the paring between Foxtrot, Tango, & Whisky). There are only 18 works listed under their tag on ao3, and it’s a tragedy. Who doesn’t love a good OT3? And these three are a match made in hockey heaven.

I consider myself an avid reader of fanfiction and published stories alike and feel I can distinguish s good story from a great one. However, I had already read the 7 fics under this tag that sounded appealing, and I was hungry for more. So against my better judgment, I clicked on the one claiming to be a Gilmore Girls au. I think I was so averse to this story initially because I had never seen Gilmore Girls. I knew very little about the story and was hesitant to jump into an account bassed around this show’s central themes.

“Samwell is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone. That’s why everybody knows that Eric “Bitty” Bittle’s bakery is the only place to get a decent pie, why everybody knows that if you want to teach your kid to dance or sing you send them to Adam Birkholtz, and why everybody in town has a bet on when single dad Derek Nurse and diner owner and purveyor of Samwell’s best coffee Will Poindexter are going to finally stop messing around and get together.”

Boy, was I ever wrong. Almost There and Nowhere Near It by shellybelle (@geniusorinsanity), Published on June 3rd, 2018, and Finished on January 1st, 2019, is one of the best fics I have had the pleasure of reading. The CheckPlease fandom is no stranger to well-written stories. Having over 10 thousand published works on Archive of Our Own, there’s bound to be some gems hidden among the dust. But the writers in this community continue to surprise me with their attention to detail and astounding character development.

Shellybelle created a story with so many twists and turn in its 7 chapter run I couldn’t put my phone down. I laughed, and I yelled so much at these characters that I had only known for a few hours. Every ‘almost’ between the central paring of Derek Nurse and Will Poindexter had me furiously delighted, making the payoff at the end all the sweeter.

The author’s use of repetition throughout the story gave it a sense of community. Enticing the reader into the world of the small town of Samwell, Connecticut; population 8,476. The brilliant idea to start every new story point off with, This is _____, let the reader know that the story had progressed without the use of consistent line breaks (a pet peeve of mine).

As previously mentioned, I have never seen Gilmore Girls. But that shouldn’t discourage any potential readers from flocking to this tale. The way the story is laid out, you never need even know Gilmore Girls existed. This story stands strong all on its own.

Another part of this story that worried me was the amount of background ship and the tag promising that “everyone in Check Please makes a cameo.” It’s difficult to craft a well-written story while jumping from viewpoint to viewpoint, letting every character have their moment to shine. But Shellybelle has done it again. Every person got a satisfying ending without being to cliche (for fanfiction based on a drama show, that is). The shift between Derek and Ford’s love lives and how they intertwined m showing the father-daughter duo learning from each other mistakes, was literary genius.

I could go on about how much I love this fic, moving it solidly into my top 10 list but I'll let you all get on with your days. I hope anyone who stuck around to read all this gives Almost There and Nowhere Near It a chance. The story is beautiful and is great to read while curled up with a cup of tea. Hears to you, Shelly, for your beautiful story crafting.

[effyeahzimbits]

Apologies for the delay in reblogging, I’ve had a hectic weekend.

Here is my contribution to this year’s Big Bang event featuring breathtaking art by @novva! ❤️❤️ I had so much fun writing this and it was wonderful working with such an amazing artist!

I hope you enjoy this collection and thank you so much to those who have left lovely comments on AO3. It means a lot!

Title: I Can feel the Storm Inside You

Author: effyeahzimbits [tumblr] [ao3]

Artist: novva [tumblr]

Pairing(s): Eric “Bitty” Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Adam “Holster” Birkholtz/Justin “Ransom” Oluransi

Rating: E

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Summary: Life is going good for Eric Bittle. It’s summer, he has an exciting new job with the Providence Falconers, he’s in a club celebrating with his friends, and he currently has a Canadian Adonis grinding up against his ass. Life is good.

Until said Canadian Adonis flees the morning after some mind-blowing sex, leaving behind a rubbish note. Bitty tries hard to forget about him and his huge, pert ass and focus on his new job, but then Canadian Adonis and the Falc’s grumpy, anti-social captain turn out to be one and the same. And Bitty really couldn’t forget about that huge, pert ass.

Fic + Art on ao3

Art on tumblr

[darter-blue]

Thanks to the lovely @musette22 , and @martelldoran for thinking of me and tagging me in this! 💙💙💙

What is your name?

Just call me bec. That’s what everyone calls me.

What are your fandoms?

At the moment - MCU Stucky is taking up all the space in my brain. But I have also written for Supernatural, MCU - Spideypool, DCU - Superbats and hockey comic CheckPlease - Zimbits.

Where do you post your fanfiction?

Almost everything is on ao3 under darter_blue and there are a few ficlets here on tumblr under #mywriting that I’ll eventually move over to ao3 into a series.

Going by kudos, what is your most popular one-shot?

I guess technically Pressure Points with 758 kudos but it became part of a series so, just total stand alone one shots would be Put My Money Where Your Mouth Is  with 728 kudos

Going by kudos, what is your most popular multi-chapter?

That would be my spideypool fic New Toys with 1804 kudos

What is your personal favourite story, out of your current content?

Umm… all of them? Lol, actually I’m really falling in love with the Mafia AU I’m writing right now so What Lies They Told Us.  

What work were you most nervous to post?

That’s a tough question actually. I’m not sure I can differentiate the nervousness to post every time with an individual nervousness for one fic. I was perhaps the most worried about the reception for Sergeant Barnes -  but only because of the daddy kink aspect.

Is there a method to how you title your work?

I post absolutely everything else first and then panic choose something at the last second. I am so so so awful at titles and summaries. The WORST.

Do you outline your works or just wing it?

Anything Multichapter I outline chapter by chapter. That doesn’t mean I wont change my mind halfway through and diverge slightly - based on where the story takes me.

One shots I just start writing and then stop when it's done. I usually don’t plan at all, or even know what I’ll be writing about until it's on the page.

Are you excited about any of your up-coming works?

I’m excited for the MTH fics I have coming up soon. And excited for a fantasy AU I might be posting later in the year. I guess I’m just trying to get through what I have on my plate at the moment. It’s a lot lol. 

Tagging @greyhavensking @allegedlyann @indyluckycharlie and @thegodswife with absolutely no pressure 💙💙💙

[effyeahzimbits]

@comefeedtherainn just posted this thing where you post the first line of a WIP and tagged anyone who saw it.

Well. I saw it. Here’s the first few lines (because the actual first line is only six words and are potentially dangerous if read out of context lmao) of a WIP I’ve been fiddling around with for a while but never actually finished. Maybe if people like it I might post it, idk.

I also tag whoever sees it and wants to do it. Here you go!

Spoiler: he wasn’t hit by a truck.

Fact: he was hungover.

He’d been hit by a truck. That was the only possible explanation for the ungodly pounding in his head. He was going to open his eyes and find himself in hospital and covered in bandages and being doted upon by his beautiful Canadian Adonis boyfriend. Said Canadian Adonis boyfriend was going to be dressed in nothing but the tightest little underwear and spoon feeding him his dear old Moomaw’s Georgian peach pie.

[lostinanimage]

Do you mind me asking about your writing process? How do you get into the midst of the characters so well? I'm just asking because I really love your writing.

I don’t mind at all, but this might get long. (Spoiler alert: It got very very long. No one is ever going to ask me this again.)

I do have a very different process when starting something that’s fanfiction as opposed to something that is mostly or entirely original characters. (My checkplease fiction is somewhere in the middle but more toward the original fiction process because it’s almost entirely original characters.) I’m going to go with my fanfiction process because I’ve been posting 911:Lone Star mostly, but if you want more about my original stuff, let me know. I’m not sure which fandom you’re from. <3

First off, my fanfiction ideas usually come from gaps in the show or a changing something (like Carlos’s job) and blending from there. Because 911: Lone Star tried to cram so much into 10 episodes with way too many characters and emergencies on top of that, they *expected* viewers to mentally fill in some blanks. (Though they may explain those blanks later, it’s still something that’s expected at the time.) Filling in these blanks is what tends to inspire me to start writing fanfiction. (Which is why my checkplease stuff is mostly OCs. I like Jack and Bitty, but we knew so much of their story already. Telling Kent’s story gave me more space. Playing with how Jack dealt with switching teams gave me material for him.) For Lone Star (and some for 911), I honestly feel like I have a huge advantage when it comes to writing these characters. For Carlos (and Eddie), I’m a Mexican queer person from Texas. (For Eddie I did a big move away from my family—to California at one point even.) For TK, I have recovered from an overdose and I have mental health issues. I was relocated because of these things. I’ve lived in Florida (Majan) and Chicago (Paul) and I’ve spent so much time in NYC that I have 3 exes in the city. Someone from my Lone Star fic recently decided to read my checkplease fic as original fiction and quickly discovered that Lone Star is basically just a show made up of tropes and characters I like to write anyway. I also have friend who developed schizophrenia in his early thirties. (Sadly, he was a black man in the south so he was killed the way many black men with mental illnesses in the south are killed.) I still do lots of research, but definitely not as much as I would have to do without all these things. That said, I’ve watched so many parts of the episodes over and over again. Except for the failed dinner scene—which is hard for me to watch, I’ve probably watched every single Tarlos scene over 20 times to pick apart the way they look and move and interact with each other. It gives me a base to grow from. I’ve probably watched the entire series in full (muting that dinner scene lol) over ten times. For the My Salvation series and Tunnel Vision, I’d usually pull up the episode in the time I’m covering and at least watch pieces of it to remind myself what all the characters were doing. This also helps refresh me so that their voices stay in character. When switching between 911 and 911:Lone Star, I’d put on any random episode for at least a little bit to make sure I was back in the right mindset and not, for example, writing Bobby with Owen’s voice. The only character I don’t have to do this with is Judd. I lived in Texas for 18 years. I can write Judd’s voice immediately with no refresher. Jim Parrack (actor who plays Judd) grew up an hour from me and is only 2 years older than me. I’ve literally attended an event at the school where he went to high school while in high school at the same time. Thanks for hiring an actual Texan, Lone Star. Never met him as far as I know, but I grew up with people talking like that. I’ve been to Austin multiple times. I think one of the easy traps to fall into is misusing the advice to “write what you know.” Lone Star for me is a very good example for that because I just outlined how much I know about the facts surrounding these characters. But my actual personality and life history is not like any one of them. I’m divorced, but I don’t think Owen reacts to his divorce like I would. I’ve overdosed, so I was able to know how TK would feel physically, but I’m not like TK so it writing that meant asking “okay, how does *TK* react to this physical feeling. I’m a queer Mexican from Texas, but my personality is almost nothing like Carlos’s, so I can put in facts from my background, but I have ask how Carlos reacts to those things because he’s not going to react the same why I do.

Also, because it’s been a hot topic lately, don’t write what you don’t know. If you’re not Mexican-American and you can’t develop this very complex knowledge for how your use of Spanish changes according to your life situation, so don’t try to write it in. No one will miss it. I love writing Paul, but there’s a limit to what I can write about him being trans and black. That’s okay. I just won’t write him as well as a black trans man, but I might write Carlos and Eddie better than that person. And seriously, don’t write Judd and Grace with a Texas accent if you have no experience. People will only notice if you get it wrong. Still do a lot of research so that you have some ideas in your head! And then don’t actually try to use it. I know that sounds like super-weird advice, but if you’re writing a different culture, that’s my best advice. There are so many traits that make up each character. For example, I can put in aspects of my background when I’m writing Eddie, but I’ve never personally served in the military, so I don’t highlight that part of his character. Also, since I’m here, people who have never done sex work should stop writing it and stop using imagery around it when writing sex scenes. It’s annoying and almost always wrong. Stop. I don’t outline and I make almost no notes until I get to the point of a verse being so big, that I have to make a timeline to keep everyone’s ages in line. I’m not there yet for my Lone Star fic. All kinds of notes and character things do just kind of stay in my head. It’s hard to explain, but that’s how it is. I write almost entirely chronologically. To be fair, I started writing fanfiction at age 14, I graduated with a degree in creative writing. I published my first book in 2009. I’ve always done this many things in my head. My characters were likely not always this well-formed. However, a lot of the character work I do in my head can totally be written down. If you’d like, you’re welcome to pick a character and I’ll write out a full character sheet with what’s going on in my head that influences how I write a character. (For any of my OCs, I could do this. For 911/Lone Star, I could do Eddie, Buck, TK, Owen, Carlos, and Judd the easiest.) One of the things I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about while writing Tunnel Vision is exploring what my different back story would change about Carlos. He’s purposely less closed off because in my opinion he learned to shut off emotion even more as a cop. I think this is evident in the show not just in the police station scene, but also in the finale when TK sort of ends the relationship. There’s no way he’s that okay with it, but you can see that he’s prepared himself for that response. (As opposed to the dinner scene where you see more emotion because he wasn’t prepared for that rejection.) As a teacher, I feel like he’d be a bit more open and better at communication, so I’ve made those little changes. That said, I think it’s obvious that dialogue is my jam. This is why I have to stay so, so far ahead of posting to be able to edit my own stuff. I write quickly and I leave out words and my brain will correct mistakes unless I step away from a section for at least two weeks. I also envision things so clearly in my head that I need that time away to realize when I need more description or when I need to use names instead of pronouns, etc. Sometimes I’ll add dialogue in editing but usually nothing major. One of my favorite things about writing fanfiction is that I can put out all kinds of extra scenes and points of view. I actually have some of these things for my published works just sitting in extra files because I’ve needed to write other points of few to get the reactions right. Anytime I write half a phone call, I always have the other side written somewhere. Anyway, wow this got really long so I’m going to stop rambling. Clearly I don’t mind asks like this is. Lol. I’m still almost completely quarantined and my girlfriend is out of town. Send me all the asks you want. lol

[moosewaifu]

@metaphoricallytheworst has had to listen to me ramble for weeks about a fanfiction I’m working on involving an OC for the Check Please comic series. Here is 5 of the characters with Zoey as the main one and the rest being part of the Samwells Women Hockey Team.

I was staring at references and so many different character faces until i could do the amazing style even a bit. The Zoey in a ball cap is my absolute favorite. This is ngozi’s style and for some characters i grabbed colour references from her amazing art. #checkpleasepics #omgcheckplease #originalcharacter #originalcharacters #ngozi #checkplease https://www.instagram.com/p/BtL0iptAVQk/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=c2gtuj9a79kh

[pongpalace]

Fanfiction questions! 9, 17, 27, 43 😘

9. What are the best things about your current fandom?

ohohoho. ummm, probably how collaborative the checkplease fandom is. people grow ideas together all the time, and watching the different phases of a headcanon pass across my dash is really awesome

17. Who was your first OTP and are they still your favourite?

my first otp, jeez… i think superhusbands was the first pairing i labeled outloud as otp (aww in my car with you in your driveway), but they’re not my otp anymore. 

27. What do you hate more: Coming up with titles or writing summaries?

titles. it’s half the reason why the titles i settle on are usually long and bracketed. im not very good at parsing out an overall theme to something

43. Is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

oh yes. what @abominableobriens is doing with listen up is sooo incredibly cool and her stories always give me so much to think about after (i have so many feelings about the people who leave us and nhl!ransom). @angryspace-ravenclaw 's fics and writing are always a pleasure to read and remind me how diverse works can and should be. there’s a lot of super awesome people who make the fandom Not Shitty™ and seeing the good people of @badomgcpocfanworks on my dash help me to not be a shitty white person & im forever thankful for the emotional labour that they do

[effyeahzimbits]

Swawesome Santa 2018 Submission

Title: Five Times Bitty and Jack Allowed Fate to Get the Better of Them…and the One Time They Took Matters into Their Own Hands Rating: T+ Pairings: Jack/Bitty, mentions of Shitty/Lardo, mentions of Holster/Ransom. Very, very brief Jack/OC and Bitty/OC. Warnings: Alcohol use, brief mentions of Jack’s overdose. Summary: Bitty always felt like he was missing a train he was meant to have taken. Jack always let the universe decide which direction he should go in. It took them three New Year's Eves before they got it right.A 5+1 things AU fic created for the Swawesome Santa, gifted to @loveyoutoobits! I hope you like it.

 Five Times Bitty and Jack Allowed Fate to Get the Better of Them…and the One Time They Took Matters into Their Own Hands   

31st December 2017    Bitty’s first New Year’s Eve in Boston was spent in a bar. He wasn’t a stranger to bars, especially the loud, gaudy one he was in right now. But he had previously rung in the new years with his parents at family parties back in Madison, Georgia, and had been desperate for a change of scenery. When his best friends had suggested a night out on the town, he had jumped at the chance. He never turned down an opportunity to dance and spend the night with his friends.     That was also the night he first met Jack Zimmermann.    

     Now, Bitty didn’t know a great deal about hockey culture. He knew the game and enjoyed it just as much as his friends did, but he never took that much interest in teams’ rosters and star players. But Jack Zimmermann, the Providence Falconers’ current captain, he knew. If only because he scored a hat trick in their last game against the Bruins and Holster was furious for a week. Bitty had been impressed enough to Google him, and had been impressed further by the man’s understated smile and bright blue eyes. Still, he was just another hockey player.     Just another hockey player who turned out to be the best friend of Lardo’s new boyfriend.     Bitty could see right away he wasn’t the partying type. While Bitty and his friends downed shots and sang at the top of their lungs and danced without a care in the world, Jack simply sat at a booth nursing a single beer and watching them have a good time. When questioned he just said he was perfectly happy as he was, and Shitty (Lardo’s boyfriend) would confirm it. Bitty mostly forgot all about him and continued partying. That was, until he felt Jack’s eyes on him.     No one knew how he did it. Hell, even Bitty himself didn’t know how he did it. But one moment he was playfully beckoning Zimmermann from the dance floor, and the next Jack was joining him. He looked just as surprised to find himself there as anyone else, but Bitty wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity. With Shitty, Ransom and Holster all hollering excitedly behind them, Bitty tugged Jack towards him.     It turned out that Jack Zimmermann wasn’t a bad dancer. He was a little shy and awkward at first, swaying stiffly beside him. Bitty would later blame it on the alcohol, but at the time he just simply didn’t think and grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled. Jack’s professional athlete build wasn’t fazed by the gesture, but something in him was, and it was enough to encourage him to move. A couple of songs in, and Jack was matching Bitty’s peppy rhythm.     Bitty couldn’t put his finger on it, especially with his brain fogged with a haze of Jägermeister and Red Bull, but there was something between them that neither of them expected. It was almost an electricity, thrumming with an energy that made the hair on Bitty’s forearms stand on end. It started at their joined hands and vibrated through them until it resonated in their chests. He’d barely said more than two sentences to Jack Zimmermann all night, but suddenly Bitty wanted to kiss him.     He could tell the exact moment Jack became aware of the connection. The easy smile on his face quickly dropped and was replaced with an uneasy confusion. There was a muttered excuse – Bitty couldn’t hear it over the pounding music – and then Jack turned and hurried out of the bar, fighting his way through the crowd. Bitty watched him go, then shrugged carelessly and turned around to dance with his friends again.    It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning, slightly hungover but content, did he wonder if the universe had tried to give him something and he let it pass him by.   5th May 2018     Bitty had explicitly said no parties. Every birthday for the last four years his friends had threw a raging kegster to celebrate. For his first birthday out of college, all Bitty wanted was to call his parents, bake some nice food and share it with his friends over a glass of good wine and the Great British Bake-Off reruns (the better ones, before Mary, Mel and Sue had quit the show obviously). Ransom, Holster and Shitty had taken a little more persuading, but had soon agreed after Bitty had promised his signature peach cobbler and black forest brownies.     His phone call to his parents lasted nearly an hour. His relationship with them had been a little strained since coming out, but it was slowly getting better, and he hung up with a big smile on his face. Lardo had still been in bed at ten that morning, so he went to the store to fetch baking ingredients on his own. It was cliché, but it was a perfect spring day, like it was the movie of his life.     Working as a junior social media and marketing assistant had its perks, like weekends off. Today was a Saturday, so he wandered down to the fresh foods market for his ingredients. The peaches weren’t quite as sweet as the ones back home, but the ones here were a close second. He left an hour later with his tote bag full to the brim with ripened fruit and fresh spices and fingers sticky with pear juice. He stopped by his favourite deli next, the one with the premium butter and organic flour. His budget never usually stretched past Walmart, but he had birthday money burning a hole in his pocket.     It was late afternoon by the time he got home. The kitchen smelled strongly of ground coffee, and he found Lardo perching on a chair and trying to hang purple streamers from the lampshade. She had put on her favourite sweatshirt for the occasion, the one with a rubber duck wearing sunglasses, and that alone made Bitty’s chest swell with happiness. They finished putting up the streamers between them and had lunch, squabbling over whose turn it was to use the one decent plate they had. It was Lardo’s, who overruled Bitty’s birthday argument with a smirk and a flick to his forehead.     An hour later he was elbow deep in pastry when the buzzer rang. It was Ransom and Holster, bearing wine and beer and takeout menus, though they all knew they’d be too full of pie to eat the Chinese food they’d still order. The wine was shared out and they were put to work, greasing tins and chopping fruit. Shitty appeared not long after, and gave Bitty a slurpy, whiskery kiss on his cheek before handing over more wine. He wore a suspicious grin for a whole hour and sang loudly and out of tune to the radio as he peeled peaches.     When the buzzer went a third time, everyone looked around at each other in confusion, except Shitty, who just grinned even wider. Bitty rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on a towel, wondering who on earth Shitty had invited. Maybe a stripper. He didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved when he found a shy looking Jack Zimmermann in the hallway. He was pleasantly surprised though, especially when Jack sheepishly held out a small bunch of flowers and wished him happy birthday.     He’d met Jack a handful of times since New Year’s Eve. He’d learned that Jack wasn’t quite as stoic and robotic in real life as his television interviews would have you believe. He was quiet and reserved, but also thoughtful and could hold his own in an intelligent discussion. His accent was just as endearing though, and Bitty found his awkward shyness adorable. Bitty never denied the attraction to himself, but it was never one he would act on either.     Parties and clubs might not have been his thing, but it turned out that quiet gatherings with people he knew were more to Jack’s taste. He threw himself into the baking, listening to Bitty’s instructions with keen ears and following them with enthusiasm. After a glass of wine Bitty would even call him charming, quick to tease or crack a joke. If Bitty didn’t know any better, he’d say Jack was flirting with him when he flicked flour in his face or purposely nudged his pie out of the way when he tried to take a bite. But Bitty did know better. Guys like Jack were never Not Straight. And even if they were, Bitty was never their type.     It was probably the best birthday he’d ever had, anyway. By the end of the night, his and Lardo’s apartment was a complete mess. The streamers had fallen, there were plates and takeout cartons all over the living room and the kitchen was filled with dirty pans and covered in a fine layer of flour dust. They’d eaten and drank until they were fit to burst, argued over which Bake-Off contestant would win in a mud fight, and Jack had offended them all by declaring he didn’t find Mary Berry all that great. Come midnight, Ransom and Holster had wandered back to their own apartment and Lardo had dragged a wasted Shitty back to her room. Bitty told Jack he didn’t need to stay and help tidy, but Jack insisted anyway.     It was only when they were both alone did Bitty feel it again. That strange electricity that drew Bitty towards Jack like a moth to the flame. He couldn’t blame the alcohol this time, not after only two glasses of wine. Jack either wasn’t aware of it, or was ignoring it, focusing hard on wiping flour from the counter tops. Bitty tried to do the same, humming along to the quiet tune playing on the radio as he filled a trashbag full of rubbish. They worked without a word, moving around almost in tandem, like they had done it a million times before.     Bitty didn’t believe in fate, or soul mates, or past lives. At least, he didn’t until their rhythm was suddenly broken and they bumped into one another. Jack had flour on his nose and a dirty cloth in his hand. Bitty had a smudge of cherry sauce on his mouth and was holding a stack of empty plates. They both laughed and then went still. It felt like they were both waiting for something as they looked at each other, taking in lashes and eyes and noses and freckles and dimples and mouths. Waiting for what though, they didn’t know.     Jack’s phone pinged. It was loud enough to break the reverie and they both pulled free from the spell. Jack could never leave a text unanswered, and for the briefest of seconds Bitty wished that he would. Ignoring a text would make him not-Jack though, so he couldn’t be too disappointed when Jack took a step back and pulled his phone from his back pocket. Bitty cleared his throat and continued his task like nothing had happened.     Jack was still staring at his phone screen a couple of minutes later. His brows were slightly furrowed, but Bitty couldn’t read the expression on his face. He questioned him gently, and Jack almost jumped, like he’d forgotten where he was. He managed an apologetic smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t explain himself or the text message, and simply announced that he had to leave. With a last ‘happy birthday’ he showed himself to the door and left.     Bitty felt like he had just missed a train that he was supposed to take.   31st December 2018     They didn’t go to a bar that year. Ransom and Holster threw a party in their apartment, though it was thankfully not as outrageous as the kegsters they used to host in college. Their work friends were accountants and administrators and fellow consultants so Bitty wasn’t expecting it to get too wild. He’d had a pleasant, sleepy Christmas with plenty of good food and catching up with family, so didn’t mind that this new year was different to the last. Lardo brought Shitty along, who naturally dragged Jack with him. Bitty was over the moon to hear this, hoping that maybe fate would give them both a helping hand this year.     However, it appeared that fate had other plans in store. Jack appeared at the party as promised, but Bitty hadn’t expected to see a young, smiley blonde man attached to his hip. Jack introduced him as his boyfriend, and Bitty felt like the floor had abruptly disappeared from beneath him. It was a lot to process all at once. He’d started to have suspicions that Jack was Not Straight as Bitty had originally thought, and to have that confirmed was a little overwhelming. Then to learn that he was also suddenly spoken for left Bitty with a bitter taste in his mouth.     He and Jack had grown close over the last few months, and he thought that they shared everything over a glass of wine and a slice of pie. It turned out that was wrong though, and Bitty wasn’t sure what he felt more betrayed about. Still, he plastered on a smile and congratulated them as if it wasn’t a knife through his heart.     Jack’s partner was funny and charming and handsome and everyone liked him. Bitty wanted to hate him, but he couldn’t bring himself to. The man had asked for his macaron recipe and talked about his cat for a full twenty minutes for god’s sake. When Bitty had first walked in, he’d eyed the mistletoe hanging over each door with hopeful eyes, but now he just glared at it acrimoniously. It was an ugly way to feel, but Bitty couldn’t help but think the universe was laughing in his face.     The worst thing was, Jack looked happy. Bitty was pleased for him, but it was tainted, and he hated that it was marred that way. He spied Jack’s hand casually sitting on the man’s waist or spotted a chaste peck on the cheek between them and wanted to down another shot. He didn’t want to spend the night torturing himself, but he didn’t want to succumb to the jealousy either. He left at eleven, feigning a headache and smiling through the well wishes.     He would spend tonight pitying himself, and then starting tomorrow he would get over Jack Zimmermann.   August 3rd 2019     Getting over Jack Zimmermann was damned hard. But Greg helped. Bitty had met him at one of Shitty’s law school mixers. He was an ex-college rugby player, dragged along to the event by his friend. Tall, broad, half Greek with a mop of dark, curly hair and an accent that made Bitty’s knees weak. He hadn’t dated seriously since college, and it was hard work. Between working their full-time jobs, Greg’s beer league rugby and Bitty’s figure skating, they barely had enough time to squeeze in dates and time together, but Bitty enjoyed it all the same.     Greg wasn’t Jack. They didn’t share the same sense of humour, and Greg’s taste in music and television wasn’t to Bitty’s tastes, and Greg was bossier and more assertive than Jack ever was. But he was also kind and caring and Bitty had a nice time with him. Even if he wasn’t Jack. But that was okay, because nobody could be Jack but Jack. And Bitty had to be fine about it. He could do that. They hadn’t had time to hang out much lately, but tonight was Jack’s birthday, and Shitty was throwing a get together in his honour. Bitty hadn’t originally wanted to bring Greg along, though he wasn’t sure why. Shitty had invited him too though, and Greg seemed to be looking forward to it. Bitty couldn’t exactly tell him no.      He had no idea what to get Jack for his birthday. What do you get the man who has everything? And if he didn’t have it, he had more than enough money to buy it anyway. This year, Jack had bought Bitty an entire collection of cookbooks from his favourite baker. Bitty knew it cost more than a whole month’s worth of his wages, though to Jack it was probably nothing. How could Bitty match something like that? He knew Jack wasn’t expecting him to, but it still made him feel inadequate.     Whatever it was, it had to be something special. It was almost an apology. I’m sorry we haven’t hung out much and you’ve taken a backseat to my actual Greek god boyfriend. Bitty didn’t think he should feel too guilty though. As far as Bitty knew, Jack was still with his own boyfriend. It was never talked about in the media for obvious reasons, but still, Bitty would know if they’d broken up. No, this get together would be good for the both of them. They could exist in the same room without that stupid electric connection between them. And even if it did appear, their boyfriends would keep it at bay.     Right?     Wrong.     It wasn’t an entire collection of cookbooks, but Bitty turned up on Jack’s swanky Providence doorstep with Jack’s favourite pie and a Barnes and Noble gift card. A feeble attempt, but he’d genuinely been stumped. He knew Jack liked history books, but Bitty was frightened of getting the wrong one. He explained this to Jack in a nervous ramble as he handed them over, but Jack laughed and thanked him sincerely anyway. It was only after Bitty stepped over the threshold did Jack notice who had been standing beside him.     Bitty introduced Greg hurriedly, hoping his edgy fluster wasn’t completely obvious to either of them. Jack was polite and smiley and shook Greg’s hand, but something about it seemed fake. Bitty tried to ignore it, heading straight to the wine. His friends were already around, and he greeted them with false enthusiasm. Once he had his glass in hand and looked around the apartment he noticed Jack’s boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. The pictures of them both were gone, as were the cat hairs and various caps and hoodies they used to share.     Jack and his boyfriend had broken up.     Bitty could’ve kicked himself. He had been so wrapped up in getting over Jack he’d forgotten to be a friend in the meantime. How long had it been since they had last hung out? Or had a lengthy phone call? The only thing Bitty had managed lately was a few quick texts and picture messages every now and again, all of which Jack had promptly replied to. He felt like an idiot. He had to apologise, but he wasn’t sure that this was the right moment. Jack looked like he was enjoying himself.     A few glasses of wine later, Bitty managed to push his guilt aside for the time being. He’d always loved Jack’s kitchen, and couldn’t resist baking in his top of the range oven, no matter the occasion. He was pulling out a tray of freshly baked mini tarts when he realised he was being watched. People had popped in and out the whole time he was baking, to fill up drinks or fetch snacks, but this time the body lingered. Bitty turned to tell them they’d have to wait a bit longer for the tarts to cool, but the words disappeared off his tongue when he noticed it was Jack.     Jack stood in the doorway, a half-drunk bottle of low alcohol beer in his hand. He had a determined look in his eyes that made Bitty go still, though his heart started to hammer in his chest. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Jack to make the first move. The energy was between them again, throbbing loud and unspoken. The metal tray shook in Bitty’s hands.    Jack opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth again, frowned, thought about it. Jack had never been one to say a lot, but each word was usually carefully thought out and selected. Bitty waited, expecting something insightful and meaningful. Jack opened his mouth, closed it, frowned again and thought some more.     Greg made them both jump. He was never quiet or graceful and strode in to the kitchen with a booming voice. He was half drunk, grinning at them and calling back to the others as he filled his glass, stole a mini tart and gave Bitty a swift peck on the cheek. He left almost as quickly as he appeared, but the moment was ruined. Jack gave him a stiff nod and retreated to the living room having clearly lost his nerve.     Bitty slammed the hot tray down onto the marble counter, feeling like he’d missed the train again.   31st December 2019     Tonight, Bitty was going to get drunk. He knew it was silly and immature, but these last few months had been stressful and depressing. He felt like he deserved to let loose and get messy and see off the year in style. A lot of things had happened this winter, including a promotion, Shitty and Lardo’s engagement, and his and Greg’s breakup. He hadn’t been angry or surprised, just disappointed. Greg wasn’t Jack, after all.     Jack wouldn’t be attending the party. He’d had a string of games and a long roadie over the last couple of days and wouldn’t be making it back to Providence until past eleven pm. Bitty knew that Jack would head straight to bed rather than get changed and drag himself to a loud and crowded bar after all of his travelling, and Bitty couldn’t blame him. The season had started off rough, and Jack hadn’t much time for anything in between practicing, playing, resting and all of his extra-curricular events.     Bitty knew this, but couldn’t help feeling frustrated. He’d tried to reach out, especially after his breakup, but Jack felt distant now and Bitty didn’t know how to bridge the gap. He didn’t have the energy anymore. He decided that if Jack was interested in preserving their friendship, it was his turn to make the effort. Bitty wasn’t holding his breath.     It was a fun party. It was the same LGBT+ friendly bar they went to two years ago, and Bitty felt an affinity for it. It almost felt like déjà vu, and if Bitty tried hard enough, he could almost imagine Jack sitting in his corner and nursing his beer. He wouldn’t though, he was done with torturing himself over Jack Zimmermann. He threw himself into the moment instead, filing to memory the song that was playing, the way he felt shimmying to the music, the sight of Lardo’s glittery red lipstick, the smell of Holster’s cheap cologne, the taste of Jägermeister on his tongue.     His phone buzzed at some point, but he ignored it. It buzzed a couple more times and he ignored it again, wanting to switch off from everything that wasn’t this party and this drink in his hand. Midnight was drawing closer, and he was sober enough to be aware of the heavy feeling in his chest. He watched Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster dancing together and all of the other people surrounding him, and he never felt more alone. He suddenly started to wish he was anywhere but there. He wanted to be wherever Jack was.     But Jack wasn’t here. Instead there were dozens of good looking, charming boys dancing around him. A few had tried to catch his eye, and he knew he would have no problem finding someone to dance with. And if they so happened to share a kiss when the clock struck twelve, then where was the crime in that? Just a kiss, on New Year’s Eve, between two consenting adults. No big deal.     The man whose arms he fell into just happened to be tall, and dark, and blue eyed. Maybe he had a type. He didn’t look much like Jack, but if he thought hard he could just feel Jack’s hands on his hips. He looked hard at the boy’s face, trying to imagine Jack in the high cheekbones and full lips. He shook his head, wafting away the daze. That was stupid, he couldn’t keep doing this to himself.     He looked away, but he was starting to see Jack everywhere. A man by the bar had the same jacket. Another guy on the dance floor had the same awkward dance steps. A boy waiting by the toilets had a similar smile. His eyes drifted toward the door and even saw Jack standing there, a single flower in his hands and watching him. But it wasn’t real. None of these men were Jack.     Bitty turned back to the one in his arms and waited for midnight.   31st December 2019     Jack was done waiting. He was tired of letting everything else dictate his life for him. Ever since he was born he felt like the universe had already decided what was going to happen to him. The Q, the overdose, rebuilding his career from the ground up. He couldn’t choose his team. There was only one in the AHL who wanted to set him on after the scandal. He was forever grateful, but it wasn’t something he could choose. He’d worked damn hard to get where he was today. An NHL team, a captaincy and two Stanley Cups under his belt.     The last time he made a decision for himself he ended up nearly killing himself. Even now, he was worried that choosing something for himself could ruin everything. So, he waited. He let people walk in and out of his life as they saw fit. He allowed situations to happen to him, never fighting them or questioning them. It was just the universe deciding for him and he was in no position to try and take control.     Until now.     Jack stood in the doorway of the bar, watching Bitty dancing with another man. He turned the flower around in his hands. It was the same kind he’d bought for Bitty on his birthday a year and a half ago. It was a little cheesy maybe, but he had known Bitty would like it. He’d texted, letting him know he was on his way, but Bitty had never seen the messages. Bitty clearly had different things on his mind. And the old Jack would have turned away, deciding it was just what fate had decided for them, just like always.     But not this Jack.     This Jack was tired and in love. He strode forward, pushing his way past the various bodies towards the dance floor. Bitty’s eyes had drifted over him like he hadn’t realised Jack was really there. Jack couldn’t really blame him. He hadn’t been there, not recently. He’d been caught up in the start of the season, dealing with his own break up, torn between wanting to give Bitty space or comfort him after his. It had been a hard few months for both of them. Jack figured it was time to make it better.     He grabbed Bitty’s arm and pulled him around, ignoring the guy he was dancing with as he protested. Bitty opened his mouth to tell him off, but they were both momentarily stunned as they stared at each other. Bitty was shocked to see him, but Jack was stunned yet again by just how beautiful this boy was. And he was going to have him. He was going to take matters into his own hands.     He’d rehearsed a speech in the car, but the words left his brain. He suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know how to explain what he was thinking or feeling and awkwardly fumbled. Bitty watched and waited with a familiar patience. Bitty never rushed him. Bitty always knew that each word needed time and thought. But still, the words wouldn’t come. Instead, Jack dumbly held out the flower and hoped that would be enough.     It was.     As the people around them started to chant a countdown, Bitty and Jack stepped forward. No more running away. No more making excuses. No more letting opportunities pass them by. Bitty jumped on the train. Jack took control. They couldn’t help but laugh, gazing at each other like they were the only two people in the world. The clock struck twelve.     “Happy New Year, Bits.”     “Happy New Year, Jack.”     They kissed. The End Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :) thank you for the notes and the kudos and comments this year - I appreciate every single one of them. For those of you interested - Jack’s mysterious partner was intended to be Kent, but I deliberately left it ambiguous so choose your own!

This was posted for the Swawesome Santa 2018 event and gifted to Loveyoutoobits.

[effyeahzimbits]

Title: Beer Pong Penalty

Rating: M

Pairing: Zimbits

Summary: Anyone who loses beer pong must face the penalty. The day comes for Eric Richard Bittle to put his money where his mouth is.

Warnings: Swearing. Description of piercings. Many hangovers.

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061129

     He’d been hit by a truck. That was the only possible explanation for the ungodly pounding in his head. He was going to open his eyes and find himself in hospital and covered in bandages and being doted upon by his beautiful Canadian Adonis boyfriend. Said Canadian Adonis boyfriend was going to be dressed in nothing but the tightest little underwear and spoon feeding him his dear old Moomaw’s Georgian peach pie.

     So, when he did finally wrench his eyes open, Bitty was thoroughly disappointed to find himself staring up at the peeling grey ceiling of the Haus’ lounge area. It took a moment for the realisation to sink into his hungover brain, but when it finally did, he let out a disgusted squeak and quickly rolled off the germ ridden couch and onto the floor. The grubby carpet was littered with plastic red cups and empty plates and other remains, but it was still preferable to that green cesspit of Hell.

     Bitty groaned miserably and pressed the heels of his palms to his aching eyes in a futile attempt at forcing the headache away. Memories of the previous night’s party came flooding back, including the gross tequila that had cost Ransom a grand total of six bucks and the cocktails that Shitty had fervently claimed to be mimosas but had contained the distinct burn of cheap vodka. Sober Eric always declared that he was going to have an easy night and wouldn’t get too drunk. Sober Eric was a dirty liar.

     He sighed heavily and let his arms flop to his sides, gazing up at the ceiling with all the energy of a dead fish. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember any of the finer details. He knew there had been beer pong in there somewhere (he always lost catastrophically), a little crazy dancing to Beyoncé had also happened at some point (Holster always liked to indulge him), and Bitty wasn’t entirely sure at this point but he might have taken a lot of tipsy selfies and sent them to Jack. When he had the strength to sit up he’d check his phone.

     He spent ten whole minutes convincing himself that the headache was going to miraculously vanish if he laid still long enough. It didn’t of course, and he finally decided to drag himself up with a dramatic groan. The room spun so violently he thought he was going to blow chunks. The couch would look considerably better soaked in vomit, he mused, but the thought of cleaning it up made him think better of it. Instead he used it to haul himself up and onto his unsteady feet. He wobbled only a little, and after a couple of deep breaths the nausea settled enough for him to make it into the kitchen.

     He kicked more cups and plates and – was that a bra? – out of the way as he padded through, and he was pretty sure he could hear someone snoring somewhere, though he didn’t see any limbs sticking out from underneath the furniture. His beloved kitchen was completely trashed, though he hadn’t expected any different. If he’d recovered enough by this afternoon then he would blitz the whole place top to bottom with industrial strength bleach, but for now he’d suffer through the mess to get a cup of coffee.

     The coffee beans took ages to grind and he stared at them with a dead expression, the steady drip drip of the black liquid hammering into his brain. It had only meant to be a few casual drinks to celebrate their latest winning game, but things grew dark when Ransom pulled out that stupid tequila. The bottle stood half empty on the counter, it’s plastic moustached sombrero lid practically mocking him. He had a sudden burst of energy and tossed the alcohol deep into the trash, hiding it under a stack of Chinese takeaway cartons. If Ransom asked, he’d play dumb and pretended he had no idea where it went.

     He dug his old faded mug out of the sink and poured steaming hot coffee into it without even rinsing the porcelain. And because he would never be broken inside enough to drink it black, he dumped as much sugar and caramel creamer into it as he could stomach. He sat at the table to slurp it, trying to blink away the cobwebs. He scalded his tongue more than once and the sting woke him up a little more.

     It was only after the second cup did he start feeling more human. He’d heard the front door open and close a couple of times and assumed some of their guests were starting to rouse and realise they were in the wrong house. He hoped someone reclaimed the bra. Holster had turned the last one into a hat of shame for whoever came last at beer pong. Bitty had had to wear it for a whole half an hour last night. Remembering he probably sent Jack a picture of that too, he took up his phone and scrolled through his messages. Of course, there was a selfie of him in the bra hat. There were lots of selfies in fact. He started out looking quite cute and presentable, until the last one where his hair was sticking up in all directions and his cheek was smeared in Lardo’s purple lipstick and his nice blue shirt was drenched in the vivid orange fake mimosa concoction. Luckily Jack had only seemed to grow even more amused as his sobriety deteriorated.

     Jack had of course already sent him his usual good morning text three hours ago. Sleeping in for Jack meant waking up at seven am, and he always went for a run half an hour later. At first Bitty teased him for it, calling him an exercise freak, but then he’d learned that Jack’s anxiety medication had a bad habit of making him feel drowsy, and the morning runs helped to wake up his foggy brain. Bitty continued to chirp him for it, but only because it made Jack laugh. He was still learning a lot about Jack, and each nuance he discovered only made him fall in love with his former captain even more.

     He was just tapping out a reply with his own good morning and apologising for the ridiculous selfies when the Haus started to come back to life around him. Ransom and Holster descended the stairs first, looking like they’d taken in a bath in neat vodka and then slept in a ditch. The frogs and tadpoles followed them, and Bitty assumed they’d all crashed on Chowder’s floor because the last he’d seen of them they were playing ring of fire with the volleyball girls in Chowder’s bedroom. Then finally Lardo and Shitty crammed themselves in the tiny kitchen too, helping themselves to the rest of the coffee and whatever food they could scrape together from the remnants that were left from the night before.

     “So, Bits,” Shitty chirped in a voice that was far too disgustingly cheerful for Bitty’s delicate head.

     He was naked as the day he was born and perched on one of the counter tops. Bitty wondered if there was a bleach that was stronger than industrial strength and where he could buy five gallons of it.

     “When are we heading into town, ya crazy little fucker?”

     Bitty lifted his heavy head and narrowed his eyes at his friend.      “What?” he asked eloquently, his voice hoarse from the alcohol abuse. “Why would I want to go into town?”      He wasn’t going to step one foot out of the Haus today. He was going to go straight up to bed and sleep until his head exploded and he died, or the hangover wore off. Whichever came first.

     “Dude, don’t you remember the bet?” Ransom asked gleefully. “You know, the beer pong bet?”

     Bitty wracked his cotton wool filled brain but could definitely not remember any bet relating to his spectacular loss. He remembered the honour belch, that was difficult to forget, but certainly no bet. He shook his head, creasing his brow in a frown.

     “Bro. Bro,” Ransom seized his shoulder, looking like all his birthdays had come at once and not like he’d had a disgusting hangover not two minutes ago. “You have to go get a piercing.”

     “I have to get a what?”

     Bitty blinked at him, straining his eyes through the fogginess to frown at his friend’s ecstatic face. He had to have misheard him. There was no way he would agree to anything like that, no matter how shitfaced he was. He shook his head, ignoring the throbbing between his temples.

     “You heard the man!” Shitty crowed, grinning just as widely. “You were going on all night about how you’d always wanted a piercing, so we decided to make you put your money where your fucking mouth is.”

     “He’s right,” Lardo told Bitty with a smirk, and around them, the rest of the team were laughing as they recalled the events from the night before. “You promised, Bits. If you lost the game, your penalty would be to go and get that piercing.”

     “Y’all’re lying,” Bitty said slowly, glaring at them all when his friends just cracked up laughing. “I agreed to no such thing. Prove it.”

     “Bits,” Shitty said gleefully, clapping a hand over his shoulder. “Bits. My sweet, spicy southern beauty. You have just asked a motherfucking lawyer to prove something.”

     Bitty’s glare dropped slightly when he realised exactly that, but he attached it back into place a moment later. He folded his arms obstinately, watching Shitty scroll through his phone with a huge grin on his face. A moment later, his own voice filled the kitchen, a little high pitched and definitely tipsy.

     “I, Eric Richard Bittle,” the recording began, making Bitty cringe. “Hereby announce that my penalty for suffering a crushing defeat at beer pong, will be to obtain exactly one piercing in a place of my choosing, tomorrow the fifteenth of May.”

      Bitty’s mouth dropped open. He had clearly been reading from a handwritten sheet, as he’d stumbled over words between drunken giggles. The others roared with laughter at Bitty’s horrified expression, and Shitty smugly put his phone back onto the table. Bitty stared at it as if it had personally thrown out all the butter in the house.

     “Shall I get my car keys?” Lardo smirked, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

     Bitty couldn’t speak. It’s true, he had always entertained the idea of a piercing, but never seriously. His mother would kill him for one. And he never thought he’d ever actually have the guts to go through with it. But a bet was a bet. He couldn’t back out of a beer pong penalty. It was written in the Haus rules. He sighed in defeat. At least he could choose where he was going to have it.

      “Lord, I must have been so drunk,” he groaned, sinking his face into his hands.

     The others’ laughter drilled through his brain, reminding him of his crippling hangover. He wasn’t stupid enough to get a piercing with so much alcohol in his system, so he waved his coffee cup in Holster’s general direction. It was instantly plucked from his hands and refilled. It appeared by his side a moment later, filled with wonderful creamy caramel flavoured coffee.

     “If I’m doing this, I need food,” he pouted, dragging the mug close and inhaling the fumes in the hopes that it would bring him back to life.

     Ransom leapt towards the fridge for ingredients comically fast. Bitty couldn’t resist the smirk as he watched his friends scramble to make a hearty breakfast. He took his phone again and swiped open the front facing camera, appraising his face in the screen. His ear would be the obvious option, but Bitty figured if he was going to do this then he might as well go all out. He turned his face to the side, humming thoughtfully as he tried to imagine a shiny stud in various places.

     By the time breakfast appeared in front of him – a large plate of eggs and waffles and bacon – he was starting to feel excited. Now that he was more comfortable with himself, he had started playing around with his own personal style, and a piercing would be an extension of that, albeit a little more extreme. He figured if he didn’t like it, he’d just take it out, though he’d hate to waste money like that.

     “Eyebrow,” he finally announced, putting his phone down and picking up his fork instead. “I’m going to get my right eyebrow pierced.”

     “Dude,” Ransom whistled, lifting his own eyebrows. “You will look so hot with an eyebrow piercing. Good choice.”

     The others all nodded and offered their own words of encouragement between shovelling food into their mouths. Bitty grinned widely and tucked into his own breakfast, practically buzzing with excitement already. He realised he hadn’t finished his text to Jack and took up his phone again, chewing as he typed. He wondered what Jack would think and considered asking for his opinion, but eventually decided against it. He loved Jack, and valued his thoughts, but he didn’t want to risk his boyfriend putting him off the idea. It would be a surprise instead.

     After breakfast, Bitty took a long shower. The hot water washed away the cobwebs and he stepped out into the steamy room feeling fresher and brighter. He dressed and dried his hair in record time, meeting Shitty and Lardo in the kitchen. Luckily, Lardo hadn’t drank the night before, and was perfectly chipper. A little while later, they all piled into her tiny car and headed off into town.

     There was a small tattoo parlour on the outskirts, popular among the Samwell student body for it’s friendly staff and attractive prices. Lardo knew it well after accompanying a few of her course mates, and had assured Bitty that it was a safe and trustworthy place. As they neared town though, Bitty’s nerves started to kick in and he began tapping his fingers impatiently on the door handle. It wasn’t the pain he was worried about. Not much, anyway. He was more worried about how he might look with it, what Jack would say, what his mother would say.

     By the time Lardo pulled into a parking space, he was starting to feel a little sick.

     “Hey, Bits,” Shitty murmured, catching his attention.

     Bitty looked up to see both Shitty and Lardo turning towards him from their front seats, both wearing soft expressions that he couldn’t quite read.

     “If you wanna back out, we won’t say anything brah,” Shitty reassured him.       “Right. We’ll say they were closed or something. We don’t want to force you into doing this if you really don’t want to,” Lardo added.

     Bitty looked at both of their faces, touched by their obvious concern. As much as they’d encouraged him back at the Haus, they weren’t about to coerce him into something like this if he genuinely didn’t want to do it. Bitty smiled, his heart swelling with a warm affection for the pair of them. He felt his nerves melting away, leaving that excitement once more.

     “Let’s do this,” he grinned widely, laughing when both of their faces lit up.

     He hopped gracefully out of the car, having to resist the urge to scamper into the shop like a thrilled child heading into a toy store. Instead he strode through the door confidently with his head held high. A shrill buzzing noise that irritated his ears came from the back of the shop, where he could see a big, colourful woman hunched over a client, her hand moving rhythmically over their arm. There was a man at the counter by the large window, and after a nudge from Lardo, Bitty headed over.

     It was a small room, and the walls were adorned with hundreds of flash designs and posters. It smelled strongly of antiseptic too, and Bitty focussed on that instead of the awful buzzing. The man at the counter was young, tanned and heavily tattooed, and flashed them all a wide smile as they approached. He nodded at Lardo, obviously recognising her.

     “Hey, what’s up? How can I help?” He asked, when he realised that it was Bitty who was interested in getting something.

     “I’d like a piercing please. My eyebrow,” Bitty grinned, the excitement evident in his voice. Both Shitty and Lardo snickered at his lack of chill, sinking into a row of seats on the far wall.

     “Sure. I just need you to fill this form for me,” the assistant replied, sliding a sheet of paper over the counter towards him. “And I need to see some ID too.”

     It was tempting to skim the boring questions about allergies and scribble his signature, but Bitty forced himself to read it properly and answer honestly. He was that keen on getting this done now that he didn’t want to ruin it by doing something stupid. Once he was satisfied, he signed his name and pulled out his driving license, along with the forty bucks required.

     He perused the selection of body jewellery available while the assistant read over his form and made a copy of his ID. He was already fantasising about the elaborate and brightly coloured bars he could wear after it had finished healing. At the back of his mind he worried about what his mama and Jack might say, but he quickly squashed the thoughts down. He was a grown man and could make these decisions for himself.

     The assistant called him over towards the back of the shop. Bitty flashed Lardo and Shitty one last excited grin, then headed around the counter and into the sterile workroom. The colourful tattooist looked up from her work and winked playfully at him even as her client grimaced in pain. Bitty walked past them towards the large, paper covered bench and lithely hopped up after the assistant gestured towards it.

     “My name’s Danny,” the man smiled, taking supplies from the shelf and placing them on the small trolley beside him. “My job isn’t to hurt you, okay? I’ll be as gentle as I can. While sticking a huge needle in your face,” he grinned widely.

     Bitty laughed and nodded, grateful for Danny’s humour. It settled his nerves a little bit. He calmly placed his palms flat down on the bench, focussing on the rough paper beneath them. He watched Danny meticulously clean his surfaces and readied the equipment.

     “Here’s a selection of eyebrow bars we can use. Any take your fancy?” Danny asked, showing Bitty a small selection of jewellery in a case on the wall.

     Bitty hummed thoughtfully as he inspected them. There were a few plain ones in different colours, and others that were adorned with crystals. He didn’t want anything too flashy, but none of the plain ones interested him either. At the end of the row was a small curved bar in a metallic rainbow that he instantly thought was perfect. The colour was subtle, but was one that resonated with him.

     “That one please,” Bitty grinned, pointing it out.

     Danny took the required piece of jewellery and sterilised it carefully before unscrewing a ball at one end, ready to be inserted in the fresh piercing. With that done, he took a marker and carefully placed a dot above Bitty’s right eyebrow.

     “Does that look like the right spot?” Danny asked, nodding towards the huge mirror that ran along one wall.

     Bitty turned to look, examining the small green mark. His stomach churned with nerves again. He caught Shitty and Lardo’s faces in the glass and they both gave him huge grins and thumbs up. He laughed, he took a deep breath and nodded.

     “Yep. Looks good. Let’s do it.”

     Bitty found it easier if he watched Danny’s hands pulling on gloves rather than focus on his racing heart. He wasn’t going to look in the mirror, and he really wasn’t going to look at the needle waiting in its sanitary container. Danny carefully pinched his brow between two fingers and secured a tight clamp over the skin. It wasn’t painful, but it was uncomfortable, and when he saw Danny go for the needle, Bitty closed his eyes.

     “You ready, dude?” Danny’s voice came gently from somewhere in front of him.

     “Ready,” Bitty replied in a voice that was surprisingly steady.

     He felt Danny stabilise the clamp, and then a moment later a sharp, stabbing pain blossomed in his brow. Bitty inhaled abruptly, but did his best to stay still. The shooting pain faded almost instantly to an intense sting that flared a little as Danny fiddled with the bar, and then settled down again. When Danny gently released the clamp, Bitty opened his eyes and let out a relieved laugh, his shoulders slumping. He hadn’t even realised he’d been tensing them.

     “All done,” Danny announced with a bright grin. “It really suits you, take a look.”

     Bitty turned to examine his face in the mirror, ignoring Shitty and Lardo’s loud and excited hoots of celebration from the other side of the counter. His right eyebrow was already swelling around the curved bar, but Bitty already loved the shiny metal that accentuated the curve of his brow. Danny was right, it really did suit him.

     “It looks amazing, thank you!” Bitty laughed, turning to give Danny his biggest grin.

     “No problem, I’m glad you like it,” Danny laughed, disposing of the needle before tugging off his gloves. “Okay so that’s gonna sting for a bitch for a few days, take an Advil if it gets too bad. You should clean it at least twice a day with warm saltwater and avoid touching it at all. The swelling should go down soon, but don’t change it for a smaller bar for at least eight weeks.”

     “Got it,” Bitty nodded, determined to listen to Danny’s every word. He had the whole summer to let it heal, and hopefully it would be fine long before he had to put on a hockey helmet again.

     “I can do it for you if you don’t want to try it yourself. And if you have any questions, just give me a call, okay?” Danny took a small business card from the counter and offered it out.

     Bitty took it and hopped off the bench, sliding the card into his back pocket. He thanked Danny again and made his way back around the counter. Shitty and Lardo instantly started hollering and grabbed him the moment he was in reach.

     “You motherfucking stunner,” Shitty gushed, sounding weirdly choked up. “It’s perfect.”

     “It looks good on you,” Lardo agreed with a wide grin, slinging her arm around his shoulders as they headed out of the shop.

     “Thanks,” Bitty laughed, starting to feel a little drained from all the adrenalin. “It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Stings though.”

     “Let’s go get lunch,” Lardo suggested, guiding him towards a nearby Subway restaurant instead of her car. “We should get some sugar in you.”

     Many hours later, after lunch, a raucous drive back to the Haus, and answering questions fired at him from the other members of the SMH, Bitty finally found himself perched cross-legged on his bed with his laptop open in front of him. He’d refrained from taking any selfies until he’d shown Jack despite being desperate to flash it all over Twitter. Maybe he’d take one before bed, but right now all he wanted to do was talk to his boyfriend.

     Jack picked up after three rings. He was freshly showered, his damp hair curling as it dried. He had a sleepy smile on his face, worn out from his game. Bitty’s heart swelled with affection just from the sight of him.

     “Hi, Sweetpea.”

     “Hey Bits. How was-? “

     Jack broke off his sentence midway, his mouth forming a perfect little ‘o’. He frowned and leaned forward, squinting at the screen. Bitty didn’t say anything and smiled calmly. His eyebrow was red and swollen, but he knew the piercing would be clearly visible.

     “Did you get your eyebrow pierced?” Jack asked softly, his blue eyes wide.

     “Yep!” Bitty chirped with a laugh, feeling overwhelmed with giddiness when Jack seemed more in awe than anything else. “It was my pong penalty from last night. What do you think?”

     Jack was quiet for a moment, eyes scanning Bitty’s face again. He smiled widely and nodded, completely unaware he was making Bitty’s heart flutter.

     “I really like it,” he admitted softly. “You look really good.”

     Bitty could argue that Jack always thought he looked good, but the compliment made him beam all the same.

     “Thanks, sugar. I really love how it looks. I can’t wait for it to be all healed up. Lord knows what my mama will say about it,” Bitty laughed, a little too high pitched.

     Lots of men had pierced eyebrows, it wasn’t like it was a ‘feminine’ piercing, but he was still a little worried that it would only emphasise his sexuality. He was still getting his head around the idea that he was allowed to be proud of who he was and what anyone else thought wasn’t his problem. Though feeling that pride was a lot harder when he couldn’t muster up the courage to come out to his mother. Staying with Jack for the summer was sounding more and more appealing.

     Jack could tell him that he was an adult and could make decisions whether he had his mother’s approval or not, but he sensed that it wasn’t the right time for that conversation. Bitty had had a fun and exciting weekend, and Jack didn’t want to ruin his good mood by bringing up such intense topics. They could talk about it another day. So, Jack just smiled and told him he looked nice again.

     The bright smile on Bitty’s face meant it was appreciated.

     “Are you going to get any more?” Jack wondered, shifting into a more comfortable position.

     “I’m not sure,” Bitty hummed. “I haven’t thought about it. I don’t think I’ll be like you and your tattoos though,” he teased playfully.

     Jack had booked himself in for a tattoo session in late July, just in case the Falconers made playoffs. It would be his first, and was working with Lardo on a small and meaningful design that was top secret. The trouble was once he’d started thinking about them, he found himself thinking of possibilities for more designs and where they might go on his body. Lardo had warned him that getting your first tattoo was a slippery slope, and he was starting to see why.

     “Hm, shame,” Jack joked with a lopsided grin.

     Bitty gracefully raised an eyebrow and smirked. It was hard to tell through a computer screen, but he knew Jack well enough by now to tell when he was starting to get excited. His pale cheeks were beginning to flush, and his eyes seemed dark and even more smouldering than usual.

     “Mr. Zimmermann. Is my piercing turning you on right now?” Bitty purred lowly, carefully moving his computer off his lap and onto the bed in front of him.

     “It’s not the piercing,” Jack argued with a laugh. His cheeks went even pinker after being called out. “Though it does look amazing. It’s you. How confident you are and how you know you look good.”

     Bitty inwardly softened a little, smitten with how Jack looked at him. It was something he could revel in later, when it was dark and he was ready to go to sleep. For now, he deftly whipped off his thin t-shirt, careful not to catch his new piercing.

     “Well then, honey. Make your handsome self comfortable and I’ll show you just how confident I am.” The End

A.N: Please do not get piercings after nights of heavy drinking. I took creative license with this lmao.

Thanks for reading!