#suddenly he's in overly polite mode with a straight and tense back and ending all of his sentences with sir

[stxrmstained-a]

// Seira being badass rescuing the Duke vs Seira panicking when he realizes that's his boyfriend's father he's about to meet at their rented room.

[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.