#i'm excited about that patater fic tho

[everywon-woo]

SOMETIMES PLANES CRASH - chapter 3

A/N: SO this is the last chapter of this story, but i'm gonna make this a series with different POVs and ships so there will be a lot more crappy fanfiction! I'm currently writing a patater sequel to this and i have so many ideas for other sequels and sidefics, i'll probably have writing material for a long time! Anyway, thank you so much for reading this story, feedback and ideas are always welcome! 

Chapter 2

Masterpost

Chapter 3

During the next few weeks, Jack did a few interviews – mainly because Georgia forced him to – in which he talked about being a queer athlete. They all went surprisingly well. He knew that George had only chosen news outlets that had reacted positively to him being outed, but he still hadn’t expected them to be nice. They all respected his wish to stay clear of the topic of relationships, most of them even acknowledged his sexuality, and one of the men seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say about Samwell.

“You know, my teammates didn’t know I was bisexual until very recently. Even my best friend didn’t know until very recently. But I have never felt more accepted for who I really was, despite the fact that my team didn’t actually know who I really was. Of course Samwell has a reputation of being a great school for LGBTQ+ youth – I’m not gonna pretend this wasn’t part of the reason why I chose to go there in the first place – but before I went there, I couldn’t have dreamed of how much they helped me to grow, as a hockey player and as a person. They showed me that I didn’t have to do everything alone. I didn’t have to win games on my own. I didn’t have to keep my sexuality to myself out of fear of losing their respect and friendship. They had my back on and off the ice, without ever asking me anything I wasn’t prepared to give.

Many people criticize my decision to go to college, but I can assure you that I wouldn’t be the player I am today if I hadn’t made that decision.”

This might have been the longest string of words to ever come out of Jack Zimmermann’s mouth. He had practiced what he wanted to say over and over again, and now it was over, he was pretty satisfied with it.

The interviewer smiled before following up with a question: “Excuse me if this question is intrusive or inappropriate, but you said you didn’t come out to your teammates, despite the fact that they were very supportive. Why was this, if I may ask?”

The man seemed genuinely scared that he had crossed a line, so Jack smiled to reassure him.

“Well, despite knowing that my team had my back, information leaking about me being anything but straight was still a horrifying thought. The NHL isn’t the most LGBTQ+ friendly place – which is a very important topic, but I think that’ll have to be for another time – and I assumed I would have to choose between my sexuality and my career. I trusted my team, but it was simply safer to not take the risk,” Jack explained.

The interviewer nodded. “I understand, and I’m truly sorry you felt like you had to choose between yourself and your career, but I’m sure your courage will make sure many young athletes in the future will not share this fear. And I think you don’t have to worry about your career anymore, after the hockey you played in the past few months!” He laughed.

“Yeah. I just hope this can make a difference.”

“I’m sure it will, Jack. Thank you, and good luck playing the Bruins tomorrow!”  

“Thank you,” Jack laughed, and he realized that he had actually quit enjoyed this interview.

  After the story died down a bit, life almost went back to normal. Jack went back to his normal training schedule, Bitty went back to his normal college life. Now, though, Jack could take Bitty on a date during the weekends. Bitty could sit in the WAG section, which the Falcs had renamed the partners section, when he came to see one of Jack’s games. The day after the first game Bitty saw since they came out, Jack went to practice with two baskets of baked goods for Thirdy’s wife, because “She was so nice, Jack. I need to bake her some pies to thank her.”

 Originally, Jack hadn’t wanted Bitty to come to his games. The whole ‘coming out’ thing had gone pretty well, but Jack wasn’t stupid enough to think the whole NHL would just suddenly cease to be homophobic. He didn’t want Bitty to be there if things got ugly.

However, Bitty argued that he would would watch the games anyway, whether it was from the stands or from his couch, and if things got ugly, he didn’t want to be helpless at home. Jack couldn’t deny that he was right.

Apparently Jack wasn’t the only one that expected things to escalate on the ice, because before the first game his coach told him: “Okay, kid. This might not be an easy game. Things might get nasty. We’ll all have your back, but don’t let it affect you. Don’t fight. Don’t take unnecessary penalties. Don’t even talk back. Don’t give them the satisfaction of getting to you.”

Jack nodded and stepped on the ice. The only thing he could do now was play hockey, something he happened to be good at.

After the first period it was clear that the Blackhawks were playing dirty. Jack had been hit more in the last twenty minutes than in the rest of his season altogether. As a result, though, the hawks had taken a few penalties, which lead to a goal and an assist on Marty’s goal for Jack. Overall Jack was pretty happy with his first period, despite clearly being targeted. Now all he had to do was trying to survive and sustaining their 2-0 lead.

The latter was surprisingly easy, as the hawks seemed more determined to prevent the former from happening than to score goals.

He had expected it. He truly had. That didn’t mean it was any easier to have all the air get knocked out of his lungs by being slammed into the boards and hearing Johansson, the hawks’ defenseman, say “that’s what you get, fag” while skating away.

Jack was about to drop his gloves when he remembered what his coach had told him before the game. Don’t fight. Don’t give him the satisfaction of drawing a penalty.

However, before Jack could skate away, Tater’s fist hit the d-man’s jaw.

“You dare to call Zimmboni that one more time, I make sure you don’t step foot on ice ever again, you rat,” Tater threatened. Jack’s mind didn’t have the time to process what was happening before all the Falcs who were on the ice were on Johansson.

  The first few games after that were just as rough, but after a few weeks, the news had spread that the fastest way to get Alexei Mashkov’s fist on your face was to insult Jack Zimmermann. After that, Jack only got some glares and the occasional hit. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

Until the second game against the Aces. Jack hadn’t been looking forward to it anyway, as playing against Kent still made him more nervous than a normal game would. He didn’t expect the Aces to be homophobic, though, as he assumed Kent wouldn’t allow such behaviour in his team, whether or not he was out to his team.

Jack was mostly right. Seeing Kent was still not easy, but everyone just played the game. Everyone but Tim White, Kent’s linemate. It started with the regular stuff, the glares and some hits that weren’t necessary. But when the Falcs went into the third period leading 4-1 – with a goal and two assists for Jack – things started to escalate. White’s hits started getting rougher and more frequent. The glares turned into whispered slurs where no one but Jack could hear them. Jack didn’t want to give White the satisfaction of drawing a penalty, though. He was not going to fight tonight.

Merely minutes before the final horn, all his good intentions went up in smoke when he got slammed into the boards and onto the ice by White, who managed to make something explode inside Jack by smirking and laughed condescendingly: “Even if I had known you were gay, I wouldn’t have expected ‘tiny blond trophy twinks’ to be the great Jack Zimmermann’s type.

Yet, before Jack could get to his feet to punch the smirk of White’s face, Kent Parson’s fist connected with his own linemate’s jaw. Even though Jack didn’t really know Kent anymore, he could see the white-hot anger in his eyes as White tumbled to the ice. Everyone seemed to be taken aback by Kent’s violent behaviour against his own teammate, so the officials were not quick enough to intervene before Kent, who was at least 5 inches smaller than White, took his linemate bye the front of the jersey and said, almost hissed: “One. Jack is bisexual, not gay.” White didn’t try to fight his way out, as he knew hitting Kent Parson might be the fastest way to lose his job. He just let himself undergo the wrath of his captain. “Two. I think you might want to keep up with what our scouts are doing, because if you did, you’d known that the Aces would love to replace your sorry ass with that ‘tiny blond trophy twink’ as soon as he gets out of college.” Jack’s mouth fell open. “And three.” The officials seemed completely lost as to what to do, and they didn’t even try to stop Kent when he punched White again, hard, before almost growling: “If I ever hear you talk that way about me again, I will personally make sure you never step foot on the ice again.”

Jack didn’t know how White still had the audacity to open his mouth, but he said almost nonchalantly: “Chill, Cap. I wasn’t even talking about you, I was just chirping Zimmermann about his ty-” Realization dawned on him. “Oh.”

Jack decided that White had a death wish, because he then proceeded to throw his head back and laugh. “Holy shit, Jack Zimmermann and Kent Parson are both fags, and they fuck-”

This time it was Tater who shut him up by putting a fist to his mouth, and soon, the officials had to drag the whole Falconers roster and even some Aces away from White before they actually killed him.

Meanwhile, Jack and Kent were just standing a few feet away from the fight, frozen, staring at each other. Then, Kent seemed to realize what he had done and Jack saw a flash of panic in his eyes before he visibly tried to suppress it because he didn’t want to let Jack see beneath his carefully constructed layer of arrogance and chill.

In that moment, Jack felt all the bad memories slip away. He didn’t forgive himself. He didn’t forgive Kent. He didn’t know if they could ever be friends again. But there and then, none of that mattered. Jack knew Kent needed him.

“Kenny.”

Kent’s control slowly slipped away, and tears filled his eyes.

“Jack,” he choked, and then Jack’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him against his chest.

They didn’t say anything. Communication had never been their forte anyway. They just stood there, on center ice, holding each other as if the past six years had never happened. They both knew they couldn’t just go back to the way they were, but for now, Jack could give Kent the support he so desperately needed.

They didn’t realize the fight had been broken up, and every single pair of eyes in the arena was watching them, Jack Zimmermann and Kent Parson, hockey legends, old friends, rivals, embracing each other on center ice. They didn’t know what had just happened between these teams. They didn’t realize yet that Kent Parson had just come out. The only thing they saw was a heart-warming reunion, and maybe Jack and Kent wanted to believe that for a few moments too.

“Thank you,” Jack sighed against Kent’s shoulder. This made Kent pull away to look Jack in the eyes and smile that Kent Parson-smile. Not the fake media smile, the real deal.

“You’re welcome.”

And that’s how Kent Parson found himself sitting on his couch, scrolling through his Tumblr feed, which consisted of an infinite amount of different gifs of The Hug™, while eating a Danish pastry out of the basket that had arrived that morning, accompanied by a card saying:

 This doesn’t mean I suddenly like you, but what you did out there on the ice was incredibly brave. Thank you.

-ERB