Archive of Our Own

As the morning sunlight started to filter into his room, illuminating the blue suit jacket he’d hung on the door to his closet, Eric was wide awake. He’d been tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep, and the hard and unyielding feeling that had started to settle in his stomach over the past week had solidified into something awful.

Sighing, he got up, pulled on his Samwell hockey sweatshirt, and cracked open the door. The rest of the house was still quiet, but within the next hour or so everyone would be rushing around getting ready. 

Eric tiptoed past Jack’s door—trying not to think about the fact that the room behind it would soon be empty—down the hall and downstairs. There were some apples in the fridge, so he decided he might as well make Jack’s favorite pie as a graduation gift. 

He started peeling the apples, singing under his breath, looking out the window at the early morning light. He usually baked to a soundtrack of Beyoncé’s best hits, but he didn’t dare put music on this early, and risk waking anyone up. Jack might run down the stairs and yell at him, like he’d done that time in the shower. 

His jaw tightened a bit at the memory.

By the time Eric put the pie in the oven and put some coffee on, he could hear the inhabitants of the Haus finally starting to rise. Lardo and Shitty walked in as he was piling the dishes in the sink.

“Morning, Bits.” Lardo’s voice was sleep-rough, and she was wearing Shitty’s sweatshirt, which came down almost to her knees.

“Morning.” 

“Hey Bittle.” Shitty grabbed him in a bear hug and smacked a kiss against his forehead.

Eric turned his back, starting to wash dishes, so that they couldn’t see his face. “Coffee’s ready.” 

“Brill,” Shitty said, going over to pour two cups.

Lardo leaned against the counter next to Eric, arms crossed. She looked like she’d been crying, but she and Shitty both seemed relaxed, as much as they could be. Cambridge wasn’t that far away, after all.

“How are you doing?” Lardo said, watching Eric closely. 

“Fine.” The timer on the oven dinged, and Eric used the excuse to turn away from her. Cautiously, he took out the pie and put it on the sill to cool. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shitty and Lardo exchange a silent look, but Eric couldn’t find the will to care about it. He started mixing together the ingredients for pancakes, grateful for something to occupy his hands.

“If you want to talk about it—” Lardo began. 

“I don’t,” Bitty interrupted, avoiding her eyes. 

Lardo sighed audibly, but before she could say more, Ransom and Holster bounded in, apparently oblivious to the fact that the mood in the room was anything but joyful. 

“Oooh, pie for breakfast, score,” Ransom said, reaching out toward it. 

Eric slapped him with a dish towel. “No, that’s for Jack, y’all. I’m making pancakes.”

Ransom looked him up and down. “Why the long face?” He turned his lower lip down in an exaggerated pout. 

“Rans—” Lardo said, in a warning tone. 

“Let’s turn that frown… upside down,” Holster said ebulliently, and Ransom nodded solemnly.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Eric said, starting to back up, holding his pancake spoon out like a weapon.

Ransom grabbed him from behind and held him up, and Holster started tickling him. Then they decided to dangle him upside down.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Eric protested, though he was laughing for the first time in what felt like ages. “If y’all want some breakfast, put me down.”

Ransom finally relented, turning him right side up and putting him on his feet, and Eric was a bit dizzy from the blood rushing to his head. When his vision re-focused, he saw Jack leaning against the doorframe in his sleep shirt and pyjamas, watching them with a wistful kind of fondness. 

“Hey Jack. H-happy graduation day!” Eric stuttered, trying to sound bright and cheery. “I made you a pie, your favorite.” 

“Thanks.” Jack smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eric turned around and started pouring the pancake mix onto the heated pan. “There’s coffee,” he said over his shoulder, but when he looked back, Jack was gone.

Once everyone in the Haus was fed, Eric cleaned up the kitchen as best he could. Finally, he couldn’t stall anymore, so he went upstairs to shower and dress. As he was putting on his bowtie, he started composing a vlog post in his head, but no matter what he thought of saying, it seemed overly morose. 

“Bittle.”

Eric startled, looking over to see Jack in his doorway. He was wearing pressed slacks with a crisp white button-down shirt, and he looked a bit nervous. He was holding two ties in his hand, one blue, one orange.

“Could you uh… could you help me pick out a tie?” Jack held them out, looking sheepish.

Eric pressed his lips together, stepping over to Jack. Without hesitation, he picked the blue one. “This one, it’ll bring out—” —your gorgeous eyes— “—er… it’ll look good.” 

“Okay.” Jack nodded. “Could you, uh?”  He gestured to the tie sheepishly. 

“You don’t know how to tie a tie?” Eric teased.

“Shitty always… um.” A slight flush pinkened his cheeks. 

Eric bit his lip, fondness overwhelming him for a moment. “Oh my god, Jack Zimmermann, are you blushing?”

“No.” Jack looked affronted. 

Seeing Jack like that was basically one of the cutest things Eric had ever seen, and his heart squeezed in his chest. “Sit on the bed.” 

Jack sat obediently, and Eric pulled the silk tie around his neck. He felt Jack's piercing gaze, and his clean, just-showered smell, with just a hint of some kind of aftershave, was intoxicating at that proximity.

This is your chance, Eric thought. God knows if there will be another one.

But there was no point. He didn’t even know for sure whether Jack was into men, and if he told Jack how he felt it might ruin the friendship they’d built. He couldn’t imagine not having Jack in his life, even if he couldn’t have him in every way.

Eric finished the Windsor knot with a flourish. “All done,” he said, stepping back.

“Bittle,” Jack said, standing up suddenly.

Eric swallowed, meeting his gaze. “Yes?”  

Jack was biting his lower lip, and it took all of Eric’s concentration not to focus on what it might feel like to do that. 

“Um… thanks,” Jack said, lifting the tie. “I’ll see you after the ceremony.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eric did his best to smile, but Jack’s returned smile looked as halfhearted as his had felt.

Graduation itself was a blur. As Jack and Shitty went onstage and got their diplomas, he heard Lardo sniffling, and he hugged her to him. He couldn’t meet her eyes, though, because if he did, he would probably start to cry as well. 

Soon it was time to say goodbye, and they were by the pond when he finally found himself alone in front of Jack.

He barely registered the small talk they were making, staring up at Jack while parents and graduates chattered in the background.

“Oh, well… I guess that’s it, then,” Eric heard himself say.

“...yeah.” Jack’s face was hard to read, but his eyes, which had once seemed like chips of ice, were soft. 

Eric pressed his lips together, and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Jack in a hug. 

Jack’s breath stuttered slightly, and then his hands reached up to encircle Eric’s back. They felt huge compared to Eric’s body. 

“Bye, Jack,” Eric whispered, his hand fisting in the back of Jack’s robe.

“Bye, Bittle.” Jack’s voice sounded a bit choked up, but maybe it was just Eric’s imagination. “It was great playing with you.”

Eric tried to stop the bitter laugh from escaping his lips, but didn’t quite manage it. After a long moment, they released each other, but Eric hesitated before stepping back, staring at the tie he’d knotted so carefully that morning.

The voice inside his head was saying, This is it. This is your last chance.

“Jack, I…” He felt himself flushing. He couldn’t meet Jack’s gaze, not now. “I…”

I know you don’t want me, but I’ve wanted you for so long. I’m sorry, I know this makes things harder, or maybe it makes them easier since you’re leaving, I don’t know… I don’t want to lose you as a friend, but this is tearing me up inside, it has been for months, and I want… I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone. 

He opened his mouth to say it, but… he couldn’t do it. 

Eric stepped back, grasping the tie with both hands and straightening it, then clearing his throat. “I-I guess next time I see you, it’ll be on TV, huh?” He said the first thing that came to mind, which wasn’t fooling anyone, probably.

Jack looked stunned. “What? Bittle, I’ll drive up before the season starts.” He said it as though it were completely obvious.

“Oh, of course,” Eric said. He stepped back further, turning away a little so that Jack couldn’t quite see his expression.  “Well you get on outta here before you make me miss my flight,” he said, trying to keep up a cheery tone, but it came out sounding shrill.

“Hah, see you Bittle.” Jack walked back over to his parents, and Eric turned away, and that was it.

Eric ducked his head, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone as he walked away. His face felt hot, the tears prickling the corners of his eyes. 

He’d told himself never to fall for a straight boy, and he knew it would always end this way. But it still hurt like hell.

The Haus was empty, as almost everyone was still out celebrating or had already gone home.

Eric took off his graduation outfit, packing it carefully in his suitcase, and put on his sweatshirt and jeans. He had a couple of hours to kill before he had to head to the airport, so he started folding the laundry he’d been neglecting. He put on Beyoncé, turning the music up as loudly as he could handle and trying to sing along, but his heart just wasn’t it. The tears he’d been holding in all day finally started falling.

He kept thinking about Jack’s hands on his back, and the way the tie had felt under his fingers. He thought about Jack hugging him after his first assist, his eyes bright. He thought of when they had made pie together, how Jack’s cheek and his forehead had been dusted with flour.

“Lord,” Eric muttered, realizing that streams of tears were running down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them a bit but it was basically a lost cause. 

“Bittle,” Jack’s voice said from directly next to him. Eric turned abruptly, pulling out his headphones.

“H-hello! Jack,” Eric stuttered nervously. He quickly wiped his face with his sleeve. 

Jack was panting, sweat glistening over his forehead, and his hair was disheveled. He was looking at Eric with what almost seemed like... relief. 

“Oh my goodness, why are—is everything alright? You’re outta breath! You could have texted…” Jack just moved closer, not answering his questions. 

“Bitty,” he said, and his eyes lowered to Eric’s lips. 

Before Eric could say anything else, Jack leaned down and kissed him. For a long moment Eric didn’t even close his eyes, because he was so surprised.

It was his first kiss, and he didn’t have much to compare it to, but… oh lord.

Jack’s hand slipped around his back, his other sliding around Eric’s neck, holding him in place. There wasn’t much at first other than a chaste press of lips against lips, but then his thumb brushed against Eric’s jaw, and he tilted into the kiss. Jack’s lips were so soft, and dry, and gentle, and… Jack was kissing him. 

Eric forgot how to breathe. 

He reached up to press his hands into Jack’s chest, his lips parting slightly, and Jack’s tongue slipped into his mouth, just a little.

Eric whimpered, and he felt Jack pull back slightly, as if to make sure Eric was okay. But Eric didn’t open his eyes, so after a moment Jack tilted his head the other way and pressed his mouth to Eric’s again. His lips slid against Eric’s, parting them just a bit more, deepening the kiss. Eric felt like he was going to faint any second, his fingertips pressed against the starched white shirt, which felt like the only thing that was actually keeping him upright.

Jack’s phone buzzed, and he ignored it at first, just pulling Eric closer.

But then his phone buzzed again, and Jack pulled back. “That’s. Uh. That’s my phone. I should, uh.”

“Oh,” Eric heard himself say, but it was more like a sigh. He still felt like he wasn’t actually getting enough oxygen to his brain.

“I gotta go,” Jack said reluctantly.

Eric blinked, suddenly remembering that Jack was supposed to be with his family, and that it was graduation day. It all felt like some kind of alternate reality, because no one out there was aware that his entire world had just shifted.

“Okay.” What does this mean? he thought. Do you want more than this? Was it just one kiss to say goodbye? It was all on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t even form more than two syllables, let alone a whole sentence. 

“I gotta go, but I’ll text you, okay.” Jack’s eyes were piercingly blue, and he was holding Eric’s elbows so, so gently.

“Okay,” Eric said, flinching inwardly. He was starting to sound like an idiotic parrot.

Jack started to let go of him, but before he could, Eric stood up on his tiptoes and planted one more kiss on Jack’s lips.

Jack made a small sound of surprise, but he kissed Eric back. Too quickly, they were parting, and Jack was backing out the door.

“I’ll text you,” he said adamantly. 

Then he was gone.

Eric stood in the middle of the room, his legs trembling beneath him, threatening to give out. Had he dreamt it?   

He stumbled backward, finding a chair behind him and sitting down. He was, ridiculously, still holding his phone in one hand. Within a few seconds, it buzzed with a text notification… from Jack. 

I’m sorry I had to leave so quickly. My parents and George are waiting at the restaurant. 

Oh lord, Eric thought. It was real. He touched his lips with his fingers, where Jack’s lips had been seconds before. 

Before he could reply, his phone buzzed again. I just realized I never actually said it, so... I really like you. Just to put all the cards on the table.  

Eric laughed out loud, and the tears were starting to prickle his eyes again, but the sentiment behind them was completely opposite from only minutes before.  

I really like you too, he texted back. 

A few seconds went by before Jack’s next text came. 

What do we do now? 

I was kind of hoping you’d have some ideas.

Well for one thing, I’d like to take you out to dinner. 

“Oh, lord,” Eric said out loud, pressing his sweaty palm to his forehead. 

When?

As soon as we can. 

Eric’s heart sank as he realized had no idea when he was going to see Jack again. He was about to board a plane for Georgia, and Jack was heading to Providence, moving into his house and starting his new life there. 

His phone buzzed again. We can visit each other. Training camp doesn’t start for months.

Okay, Eric wrote back, biting his lower lip. He hadn’t come out to his parents yet, and having Jack in his house might be tricky, especially since he knew he’d be looking at Jack with heart eyes for the near future.  

Jack, can I ask you something? He typed it out, pausing for a long moment before he sent it.

His phone buzzed immediately. Of course.

Why now? Eric pressed send before he could lose the nerve.

There was a longer pause than there had been before any of his other texts, and Eric could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

My father said something after you’d left.  

Eric’s breath caught. Oh. Oh… 

So he… knows? Eric texted back.

I came out to him years ago. But I didn’t know he knew how I feel about you.

Eric felt dizzy again, looking at those words: How I feel about you. 

Another text came in quickly. Apparently, it was pretty obvious. To him anyway.

Not to me, Eric texted back.

I’m sorry. I was being an idiot. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.

Me either. I was scared.

Me too. 

Eric bit his lip. This was going to be harder for Jack than it was for him. After all, Eric was out at school, if not at home, and he wasn’t just starting out with an NHL career. 

Are you sure about this, Jack?

He started typing Because if you decide later that you can’t do this, but then he stopped and deleted it. 

There was hardly any pause. I’m sure. 

Eric let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. They would have to talk about this more, but for now that was enough.

Okay. Do you mind if I tell Shitty and Lardo? he texted.

No. Just them for now though, ok?

Eric rolled his eyes. Duh.

Was that snark in your tone, Bittle?

Zimmermann, I’m a southerner, we practically invented snark ;)

He paused over the winky face, but then pressed send. He felt silly for being shy about sending Jack a winky face emotion when they had just been kissing a minute earlier.

I have to go, I’m at the restaurant. Text me tonight when you get home, I’ll call you.

Okay. Bye <3

Talk to you soon :)

Eric felt his face crack into an enormous grin seeing that smiley face. Jack never used emoticons.

Unable to help himself, Eric opened Twitter. Isn’t it wonderful how the whole world can change in a single moment? he tweeted, then dropped his phone on top of the desk and started folding the rest of his clothes.

His phone rang less than a minute later, and Eric smiled again once he saw the caller ID. 

“Hello?” he said innocently.

“What the fuck was that tweet about?” Lardo said without preamble. Eric could hear the noise of a restaurant in the background.

“Lardo, I have so much to tell you,” Eric said, holding his phone in his shoulder as he started putting clothes in his suitcase.

“Spill.” 

“Jack came over to the Haus just now, while I was packing. And… um.” Eric fumbled with his words. It was still odd to say it out loud.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “....annnnnd?” 

“Let’s just say that Jack and I are... not just friends anymore.” 

“FUCK." 

Eric laughed. 

“Shitty, Shitty get over here,” Lardo said, her voice a little muffled.

Eric could hear Shitty’s voice in the background. “What is it?”

“It’s Bitty. They finally did it.”

“What?!” Shitty yelled. “Give me the goddamn phone, Lards.” 

Shitty’s voice came on. “Duuuuuude. What happened?”

“We, uh. You know.”

“Did the nasty?” Shitty chirped, sounding smug. 

“No, lord.” Eric’s cheeks felt hot.

“But you’re together now?” Shitty pressed.

Eric thought about that for a moment. “I don’t know, we haven’t talked about it yet. But he wants to take me out on… um. A date.” He felt himself blush even more, and silently thanked god that no one was around to see.

Shitty wolf-whistled through the phone. “Good for you man, good for you. Lardo and I were hoping you two knuckleheads would work it out eventually.” 

“Was it that obvious?”

Shitty sighed exaggeratedly through the phone. “To everyone but you two, yeah.”

Eric put the last of his clothes in his suitcase and zipped it shut. “Well y’all could have, you know, told us.”

“What, and ruin all the fun of watching it unfold? It was like a goddamn soap opera, man,” Shitty teased.

Eric groaned, shaking his head. “By the way, you can’t tell anyone about this for now, okay? For obvious reasons, it has to stay under wraps.” 

Shitty snorted. “Of course not. What do you take me for?”

“Tell Lardo, too.”

“Will do.” 

“Thanks.”

“Okay I gotta go... lunch, ‘rents, you know. But, um Bittle...” Shitty trailed off. 

“Yeah?”

Shitty paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, softer. “I just wanted to say… I’m happy for you guys,” he said. 

Eric raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Shitty, are you going soft on me?”

“No.” Shitty sounded playfully defensive. “I just want you both to be happy. You deserve it.”

Eric smiled, feeling happier than he had in a long, long time.  “Thanks, Shitty.”

Jack was in such a daze of happiness that he barely registered the walk to the restaurant, and when he finally arrived, he was a full twenty minutes late. Bob gave him one look and winked, and his mother looked at both of them with raised eyebrows. Jack just ducked his head and smiled.

George and Bob did most of the talking during lunch, so Jack was able to just sit there for the most part, which was fine with him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Bitty… the little sounds he’d made when they’d kissed, and the sweet way he’d looked up at Jack when they’d broken apart. 

At one point he excused himself to go to the bathroom, and he looked back at the texts they’d sent one another. 

Are you sure about this? Bitty had asked. Jack could imagine the fragile, tentative tone with which Bitty would have said it, if it had been out loud.

He was sure. It might have taken him a while to get there, but he knew that this—Bitty—was what he wanted.

He’d never dated before, not really, other than Parse, if that even counted. It had been in both of their best interests to hide back in the juniors, but the way he’d felt about him had been so intense, so new, that it had scared him. When they’d gone their separate ways, he thought he’d never be anything without Parse, as a person or as a hockey player. When he’d watched Parse drafted in the first round on TV, alone and with his life in tatters, his heart had broken in more ways than one.

Bitty was the opposite of Parse in almost every way, and this was different; Jack was older, more certain of himself. I’m sure I want this, Bitty. But are you? he thought. 

Jack rubbed his face with one hand. The moment he’d come out to his dad, Bob had told him that it wasn’t going to be easy. There were certain realities about being a queer NHL player that he couldn’t change, and he should warn Bitty. 

He started typing out a text, but then he deleted it. Bitty was probably about to get on the plane, and this was something they should talk about over the phone, or in person.

He was startled when his phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Shitty, with several kissy face emojis (that must have been Lardo) and then a lot of expletives in all caps.

Jack laughed, his chest feeling lighter than it had in ages. 

What’s new? he texted.

Har har, Shitty replied. 

Jack paused, before texting: You were right.

I knew I was right. I’m always right. I’m glad you finally took your head out of your ass. 

Jack rolled his eyes, and his phone pinged again. You better be good to him, kid.

Jack chewed his bottom lip, thinking about that. I know.

When lunch was finally over, Jack drove with his parents down to Providence. Jack spent much of the drive looking out the window, still thinking about Bitty, which seemed to be a recurring theme.

“So did that Zimmermann charm work?” His mother asked from the backseat, eventually breaking his reverie.

“Hmmm?” Jack hummed distractedly.

“That Eric Bittle is a very cute young man,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Alicia,” Bob, who was driving, said over his shoulder. “Leave the boy alone.” 

His mother huffed, looking happy nonetheless. 

The drive down to Providence took forty-three minutes in light traffic—not that Jack was timing it or anything. By the time they finally pulled into the driveway of Jack’s new house, it was already early evening, and the early summer breeze was rustling the leaves of the trees outside.

Many of his new teammates had chosen to live across the canal in downtown proper, in one of the newer apartment complexes with a built-in gym and all the modern amenities. Jack had looked at a few of those places before realizing they weren’t for him, and at his request his realtor had started showing him old-fashioned houses in East Providence instead. He’d eventually settled on a little blue victorian two-story house near Wayland Square, in a quiet neighborhood, far enough from the middle of College Hill that there wouldn’t be a lot of students around. There were original wood floors (which he hadn’t cared much about, but his mother had cooed over), and there were a couple of guest bedrooms in case anyone wanted to visit. The kitchen wasn’t much, though, and he’d have to renovate it.

Once they had all his belongings unloaded into the new house from his car, Jack took his parents out to dinner, and then he dropped them off at the hotel.

He finally collapsed onto his bare mattress at almost eleven, exhausted. It had been a long, emotionally draining day.

He picked up his phone and saw a text from Bitty: Home :)

He thumbed Bitty’s number, and he picked up after only two rings. “Hi,” Bitty said.

Jack couldn’t help smiling. “Hi.” 

“So.” 

Jack couldn’t think of a single thing to say, but he also had a million things he wanted to say. “...so.” 

They both laughed; it was ridiculous.

“I still can’t quite believe you did that,” Bitty said breathily, after a moment. His southern drawl was even more adorable over the phone.

“Did what?” he asked, realizing belatedly that it probably sounded coy.

“Kissed me.”

Jack rubbed his lips with his thumb, thinking about how Bitty’s lips had been soft, and a bit wet from his tears. “I can’t quite believe I did either. I didn’t know I was going to, until it was already happening, to be honest.”

“I just thought… um.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Um… okay. Now, don’t laugh, but… I honestly thought you were straight.” 

Jack didn’t laugh. In fact, that was probably the least funny thing about all of this. “That was… not your fault,” he said carefully. Shitty and a couple other close friends knew about his sexuality, but it wasn’t something he talked about a lot either. The NHL wasn’t exactly an open and welcoming atmosphere, and he hadn’t wanted to jeopardize his future even more than it had been already. No one had interested him in years, anyway, and he’d been so busy with school and the team that it hadn’t been a problem until now.

“I see,” Bitty said. Jack could tell he wanted to ask more, but he was holding back.

“I can’t come out to the world yet,” Jack said, addressing the elephant in the room. “I’m sorry, Bitty. I know it’s not fair to you, but I can’t be the first out NHL player, not right when I’m starting my career. If that’s a deal-breaker, I underst—” 

“No, no, it’s not… Jack, I wouldn’t make you… no,” Bitty stuttered. I wouldn’t make you choose between me and hockey, Jack knew he was saying.

“Thank you,” Jack said, his voice cracking a little. “It… it won’t be forever. After a year, maybe. Who knows, someone might even come out before me. The attitudes are slowly starting to change.” 

“I hope so.”

Jack sighed, rubbing his face. It was completely unfair to Bitty, but there was nothing he could do about it. This was the way the world was.

They chatted for a while after that. Jack talked about looking for a trainer, and about how he would be meeting his teammates soon. Bitty told him about the summer in his small town, being a camp counselor, and how his father was already planning for football season. As always, it was easy to talk to Bitty, even though Jack had never been much of a conversationalist.

“So... when can we see each other again?” Bitty asked eventually. “I don’t think I can wait all summer.”

“Me either. I could come down to Madison.”

“Um. Yeah, you could,” Bitty said tentatively.

Sensing his hesitation, Jack realized that Bitty wasn’t out with his parents yet. “It’s okay, Bits. Your parents can just think we are friends for now.”

Bitty sighed a long sigh. “See, you’re not the only one who has to hide.”

“I know. It’s not ideal, but at least we’ll be able to see each other. How about I come down for Fourth of July? And maybe you can come back a little early before school and visit me here.”

“That’s still a whole month away.”

“I know.” Jack shifted slightly. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

There was a long pause. “Me too.” Bitty’s voice sounded wrought with emotion. 

Before Jack could speak again, Bitty cleared his throat. “Okay, I hate to go, but I’m falling asleep as I talk to you.” 

Jack glanced at the clock. “I should too. It’s late.”

They said their goodbyes, and Jack fell asleep quickly, dreaming of Bitty’s small body pressed against his own.

The next few weeks went by faster than Jack expected them to, between going to see his new trainer, supervising renovations on his house, and skyping with Bitty every night.

On the day he was to fly to Georgia, Jack woke up before dawn. His plane wasn’t until noon, so he put on his running shoes and ran north up to Blackstone boulevard. The city was beautiful in the mornings, despite the humid summer heat, and there were a lot of other joggers out already. When he got home, completely covered in sweat, he grabbed a gatorade and went downstairs into his homemade gym. He did bench press reps until the sun was fully up and his arms were screaming in protest, and then a few dozen leg presses. 

Finally, it was time to go to the airport. Once he was on the plane, he was too excited to read, so he just put on his headphones and listened to the playlist Bitty had made him. It was calming, even though most of the songs weren’t ones he had ever heard of. He closed his eyes and imagined Bitty listening to these songs and thinking of him.

When the plane finally landed, Jack looked out the window at the heat waves over the tarmac in the early afternoon sunlight, his skin tingling with anticipation.

When he walked out of security and saw Bitty in a light blue tank top and red shorts, the beginning of a golden summer tan on his skin and some freckles over his nose, he felt a swooping sensation in his stomach. Talking on the phone and skyping was one thing, but seeing Bitty in real life was just… incomparable.

When Bitty saw him, his smile was radiant. Jack grinned back, shouldering his bag and striding over. 

“Hi—” Bitty started to say, but Jack just scooped Bitty up into a tight hug.

“I missed you.” He whispered it into Bitty’s ear, even though the airport waiting area was really loud. 

Bitty sighed into Jack’s neck, hugging back. “Me too.”

When they finally broke apart, Jack’s hand lingered on Bitty’s slim arm, and Bitty looked up at him in a way that made it obscenely difficult not to kiss him.

“You didn’t check a bag, didja?” Bitty’s accent was stronger after being back in the south for a month, which Jack found adorable.

“No. Just this.” He nodded at the shoulder bag.

“Let’s get going then.”

The ride from the airport from Madison was over an hour, and Bitty rolled down the windows of the truck, as the air conditioning didn’t work very well. Jack turned on the radio to one of the many country music stations, and hummed along to a tune he recognized. 

“Country? Really?” Bitty shook his head. “You’re Canadian, for god’s sake.”

Jack scowled at him playfully. “You’re southern, isn’t it some kind of bylaw for you to love country western? And besides, we are in a flatbed Ford truck, that’s in practically every country song ever made.”

Bitty moaned exaggeratedly, but Jack just raised his eyebrows and turned the music up a little louder, singing along with an exaggerated southern accent. “You had a suntan line and red lipstick, I worked so hard for that first kiss, and a heart don’t forget somethin’ like that!”

Bitty laughed, shaking his head in fond exasperation, and Jack felt joy flooding his chest. He had forgotten how much he longed to hear Bitty’s laugh, and how much he loved seeing Bitty’s face light up when he was happy.

When they finally got to Madison, Jack’s shirt was soaked through with sweat, and the humidity was really starting to get to his head. He found himself wishing he’d brought an iced drink from the airport.

They drove through the small town, which was as quaint as Jack had imagined from Bitty’s stories, but he could see why Bitty had felt suffocated (and had stayed closeted) in this environment. They drove past a little white church with a sign that said "God sees everything," which Jack thought sounded a bit ominous.

Bitty’s parents lived in an old fashioned white house with a wraparound porch and blue shutters, the kind Jack had only seen in movies about the south. There was even a porch swing on one side, and Jack had no problem imagining Bitty sitting there on long summer evenings, reading or listening to music. 

As they were walking up the front steps, the door opened and Bitty’s mother emerged. Like Bitty, she was on the shorter side and blond, and she was wearing an apron covered in flour. 

“Jack!” She engulfed him in a hug.

“Mama,” Jack heard Bitty say from behind him, sounding exasperated. “You’re going to get flour all over him.” 

“Welcome to our home,” Mrs. Bittle said, ignoring Bitty.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jack said, when she finally released him.

“We’re so happy you’re here,” she said warmly. “Come in, come in. I was just making some apple pies, Dicky told me those are your favorite.”

“They are indeed,” Jack said, smiling at Bitty as he walked inside.

“You’ll be in the guest room down the hall from Dicky.  If you’d like to wash up, we’ll be having supper at six. Mr. Bittle will be back in a bit, he’s just finishing up with the shopping." 

“Thank you very much for having me,” Jack said earnestly. 

She smiled again, nodding. “Dicky, show him his room, I have to finish this pie before starting dinner.” She bustled back toward the kitchen. 

“Let’s get you settled in,” Bitty said, cocking his head toward the stairs.

“Dicky?” Jack chirped, once Bitty’s mom was out of earshot. 

“Oh, shut it,” Bitty said, his tone playful.

Jack followed him up the stairs, past what must be Bitty’s room, down to the end of the hall. The guest room was decorated in blue and white floral wallpaper, and a dark blue bedspread, and there was a bay window overlooking the beautiful garden in full summer bloom. 

Jack dropped his bag, looking out the window. “Did your mom do all this?”

“Yeah, she loves gardening almost as much as baking, if you can believe it.” Bitty closed the door behind him, leaning his back against it.

“You’re a lot like your mom.” 

“She’s my best friend. I just wish…” Bitty sighed. 

Jack glanced back at him, and Bitty was looking at the floor. “You wish you could tell her about us.” 

“Yeah.” Bitty cleared his throat. 

Jack walked back over to him, putting his palm on the door over Bitty’s head. “Me too,” he said, leaning in close but not quite touching Bitty. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

Bitty’s face turned upward like a flower searching for the sun, and he reached up to press his palms into Jack’s chest. 

Jack leaned in to sip from his lips, and he meant it to be just a short, comforting kiss, but Bitty made a small sound at the back of his throat, the pads of his fingers digging into Jack’s shirt.

Feeling a frisson run through his whole body at the sound, Jack tilted his head and kissed Bitty more deeply. It was only their second kiss, separated by a month, and he felt so hungry for it that it was hard to stop. 

“Jack,” it was almost like a sigh, and Jack pressed him bodily up against the door, unable to help himself. He kissed down Bitty’s jaw, his hand sliding around Bitty’s waist. 

“My mother is downstairs,” Bitty whispered. “We can’t come out of this room looking like we just made out.”

“Okay.” Jack kissed him once more on the mouth, sipping his lower lip.

“Jack,” Bitty said, pushing him back gently. His eyes were dark and warm, and it was impossible to look away. 

“Sorry.” Jack leaned back a little.  “I’m just so glad to see you.” 

Bitty’s mouth twitched upward. “Me too. Tomorrow during the fireworks, we can take the truck out to the fields, no one will be around. We can be alone. Okay, sweetheart?” He reached up and cupped Jack’s face with one hand.

“Sweetheart,” Jack repeated. 

“Is that too much?” Bitty rubbed his thumb along Jack’s cheekbone. 

“No. I… I like it.” Jack smiled again. He was starting to realize that he smiled more around Bitty than he ever did any other time.

Bitty grinned back. “Good.”

By the time Jack showered and changed, the soft summer afternoon sun was slanting through the windows of his bedroom. It was a beautiful place, even though he could never live there with the heat.

When he walked into the kitchen, Bitty was sitting at the island while his mother prepared a salad, chatting animatedly.

“She said that the jam recipe was her grandmother’s, and it wasn’t going to be appropriated by a Bittle. And then, I’ll tell you, I really had words with her.”

“Oh lord!” Bitty exclaimed, sounding horrified.

“Smells delicious,” Jack said, walking over to join Bitty.

“Dicky, offer your guest some iced tea. Honestly, what happened to your manners up in the north?”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Mistah Zimmahman, would you caha fah some sweet ahhced tea?” he asked in an exaggerated Southern accent. 

Jack laughed. “I’d love some.” He took the proffered glass of iced tea, which was in a mason jar. 

“Well, here he is then.” 

Jack turned around to see a large, ginger-haired man walking toward him, hand outstretched. 

“Coach—er, I mean, Mr. Bittle,” Jack said, taking his hand and nodding once. He was more nervous about meeting Bitty’s dad than he had been when he met Mrs. Bittle.

Coach laughed. “Call me Coach. I see they’re already plying you with sweet tea and pie. Don’t eat too much, you’ll lose your sporting figure, like I have.” Coach patted his stomach, though he was actually still very fit for someone his age.

“My nutritionist is already on me about that. I did live in the same house as Bitty for a year, after all. He’s always baking me pies,” Jack said, winking at Bitty. Bitty’s ears turned red, and he ducked his head. 

Oops, Jack thought. He’d better be more careful. 

But thankfully, Mrs. Bittle and wasn't paying attention, as she was putting the food on the table for dinner, and Coach just laughed and slapped him on the shoulder jovially. “He does tend to do that, just like his mother here.”

During dinner, Jack answered Coach’s questions about the Falconers and his career, and moving to Providence. Bitty was unusually quiet, simply eating his dinner with his eyes on his plate.

“You really had a breakout year this year,” Coach was saying. “You hit your stride.”

“It was all because of Bitty. I mean, Dicky,” Jack said. “He brought my game to a whole new level. I don’t think I would have gotten my pick of teams if it hadn’t been for him.” 

Coach looked completely surprised, and Bitty’s head snapped up to look at him. 

“Dicky? Really? You think Dicky changed your game?” Coach asked. 

“Absolutely,” Jack said, taking another sip of his iced tea. He changed me in every way, he thought. And for the better.

After dinner, he and Bitty took their iced teas out on the porch to the swing to watch the sunset. The night was slightly cooler, but was still a little warm for Jack’s taste. He kept thinking wistfully about the cool summer nights up in Montreal, in the cabin on the lake where his family went when he was young.  

As they sat next to each other, the swing rocking slowly, he glanced over at Bitty. He looked relaxed and at peace, despite the fact that he couldn’t truly be himself here, with his parents. Even though Jack had always been forced to stay in the closet for the sake of his career, seeing Bitty go through it tugged at his heart in a way that was completely foreign to him. He was so proud, so happy, to be the one Eric Bittle had chosen to be with, and he wished everyone could know about it. 

Bitty looked up at him, and as if he could read his thoughts, he smiled, but it was touched with sadness.

“You and your father don’t talk to each other much,” Jack said.

Bitty’s smile, already tentative, faltered.“No,” he said, looking down at his tea. “No we don’t… have much in common. It’s always been that way.” 

“He doesn’t really know you.” Jack said it as a statement, not a question. 

Bitty shook his head, just a little, still looking at his tea. 

Jack’s jaw tightened. He was unable to comprehend how someone couldn’t be interested in knowing Bitty, especially someone in his own family. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he said aloud. 

Bitty looked surprised, but then his face softened. “I wish I could hold your hand right now.” His voice was soft. 

Jack sighed, looking down at their hands, which were resting next to each other on the swing.  He glanced back toward the house, and Bitty’s parents were nowhere to be seen, but it was still a risk. So all he did was touch Bitty’s index finger with his pinky finger, and Bitty smiled. Jack's heart fluttered in his chest. Wow, Jack Zimmermann, you’re a total goner. The thought didn’t scare him at all, as he’d expected. His feelings for Parse had made him feel out of control, spiraling into chaos, taking him farther from stability. The way he felt for Bitty grounded him, made him feel more himself, in a way he had never known he was missing.

Jack had been in the United States long enough that the Fourth of July was no longer a foreign concept to him, but it was an even more rabid celebration in the south. Despite the fact that there was only three thousand people total in Madison, there was a Fourth of July parade through the main street of the town. Bitty insisted that they get strawberry ice cream at ten in the morning (“It’s tradition, Jack Zimmermann!”) and they watched from a stoop, since Bitty was too short to see otherwise. The parade was “'Murica to the nth degree” as Bitty put it, full of marching bands and people in Statue of Liberty costumes, and women with huge curled hair twirling batons. But Jack barely watched the parade, because all he could focus on was Bitty. The summer freckles on Bitty’s nose were getting more pronounced in the midday sun, and when strawberry ice cream dripped onto his hand, he laughed adorably, his little pink tongue darting out to lick it off.

Bitty’s parents hosted a barbecue in their backyard after the parade, and all of their guests and their children were wearing red, white and blue. Jack wore a Red Wings t-shirt, which, he figured, was in the right color scheme but still a form of protest. Coach manned the barbecue with an apron that said “Kiss me, I’m American!” and Bitty played tag and hide-go-seek with a bunch of his tiny blond cousins, all of whom seemed to be both terrified and fascinated by Jack.

“It’s because you’re so dang tall,” Bitty said, looking up at Jack fondly. He had one of his cousins on his back (Jack thought his name was Ricky, but it could be another Dicky). 

Jack thought about this for a moment, then he sat down on the grass, and three cousins immediately climbed on him as if he were Mount Everest. 

Jack laughed, and when he glanced up at Bitty, his gaze was so warm that Jack had to avert his gaze, or risk giving everything away. 

Finally, the sun started to set, and pink and yellow streaks of sunset lit up the Georgian sky. Bitty loaded some watermelon and iced tea and blankets into the bed of the truck, and they drove out to the old horse pastures near an abandoned farm. Bitty parked in a field, and they climbed into the bed of the truck.

Bitty glanced at his watch. “We have fifteen minutes,” he observed. 

“Whatever shall we do for fifteen minutes?” Jack asked innocently. 

Bitty looked at him with a mock-horrifed expression. “Mistah Zimmahmann,” he said in an the affected Southern belle accent. “What AHH you implaying?” 

“That was terrible,” Jack said, and he leaned down to kiss him.

Bitty laughed, and Jack took advantage of his parted lips to deepen the kiss. Bitty stopped laughing, his hands sliding around Jack’s back, and the kiss tipped into more heated territory. Jack pushed him down to the blanket on the bed of the truck, settling on his forearms with his hands in Bitty’s hair.

He kissed down Bitty’s neck, sucking on his pulse point, and Bitty’s hips lifted. Jack rolled his hips against Bitty’s, tangling their tongues together, and reached down to run his hand along Bitty’s bare thigh. 

“Jack,” Bitty sounded breathless.

“Bitty, god,” Jack murmured between kisses.

“Jack,” Bitty said again.

Something in his tone made Jack lean back, just enough to meet his eyes. Bitty looked like he’d been really well-kissed, but he also looked just a little overwhelmed. 

A flood of realizations hit Jack all at once.  “Bits, I’m sorry. I should have asked—” 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Bitty trailed off.

“Bits.” Jack dropped a kiss onto his neck. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry I got a little carried away.” 

He started to move off of Bitty, but Bitty held him in place.

“Don’t,” Bitty whispered, but he looked conflicted.

Jack smoothed his hair with one hand. “Bits, have you ever been with anyone before?” 

Bitty bit his lip, pausing long enough that Jack added, “Because if you haven’t, that’s completely, totally fine. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, until you’re ready, if ever. Okay?”

Bitty looked up at Jack, and his breathing was a little bit more ragged. “No, I… want to. With you.”

Jack felt himself going hot all over. “You do?” 

“Lord, yes.” 

Mon dieu. Jack’s mind spiraled, thinking of all the things he wanted to do to Bitty, or for Bitty to do to him...

“Jack.” 

Jack realized he’d been silent for probably a good five seconds straight, and his mouth had gone dry. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. 

Eric giggled, and kissed his nose. “I thought I’d broken you there for a minute.” 

“I’ll be alright.”

Eric slid his hands around Jack’s torso. “Can we just… take it slowly for now, though? I want to do everything with you, it’s just…”

“It’s all new for you.”

“Yeah.”

Jack leaned down to sip from his lips one more time. “Of course, Bits.” 

They kissed languidly for a few more minutes, Jack being careful not to push Bitty too far. It was so perfect, being out there in the dusk, cicadas chirping in the background, with Bitty underneath him, kissing him sweetly.

Eventually, the fireworks started going off behind them, so they rearranged themselves to watch, Bitty’s head against his shoulder and Jack’s arm around Bitty, their legs tangled up together. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Bitty said, after a couple of minutes. 

Jack looked at him, the firework bursts reflected in his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Beautiful.”

A couple of weeks after he got back from Madison, Jack had his first practice with the Falconers. He was more nervous than he thought he’d be; it was just practice, but it was his first impression with his new team. As he sat in his car outside the practice rink, watching players walk in, his palms started sweating the way they did when he was starting to get a panic attack.

He took out his phone, slumping down in his seat, and as he was staring at it, Bitty called him. 

“Bits,” he said, letting out a sigh of relief. 

Bitty paused for a long moment. “How bad is it?” 

“Could be better.” 

“Do you have any pills you can take?” 

Jack pressed his lips together. He hadn’t actually told Bitty all the details about his overdose, or rehab... any of it. Not yet, anyway. “I can’t anymore.” 

“Right. Um.” Bitty paused. “You’re going to be fine, Jack.” 

Jack tilted his head forward to rest on the steering wheel, blowing out a long breath. “I know.” He did know, but for some reason, he still needed to hear it. “It’s just…”

“You’ve been preparing for this your whole life.” 

“Yeah.”

“It’s scary.” 

“I’ll say.” Jack opened his eyes, realizing that the tight feeling in his chest, the panic, was ratcheting down after he started talking to Bitty… interesting. 

“I wish I could be there right now,” Bitty said softly. 

“Me too. Coach Hall always said I played better with you.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. He was right, too.” 

“You’ll have way better players than me out there.”

“I don’t think that’s all it was,” Jack said honestly. 

“Really?” 

Jack pressed his lips together. “I was an idiot for a long time.” 

Bitty paused. “How long did you know?”

“I didn’t. Consciously. But now looking back…” he trailed off. 

“For me, it was the day we made the pie for class. That’s when I knew.” 

Jack remembered how Bitty had acted really strangely that day, staring at him for a long space of time before leaving the room in a rush, right in the middle of making the pie. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“I told you, I thought you were straight.”

Jack sighed. “Well, you were obviously wrong about that.”

“Obviously.” 

They both paused for a bit.

“I miss you,” Bitty said, finally.

“I miss you too, Bits.” 

“I didn’t think it would be this hard. Being together but not together.” 

Jack perked up slightly at that. “Together?”

“Er… I mean, if you… um. I didn’t mean to—if… If you want. Um.”  Bitty sputtered adorably.

“Bittle, did you just ask me to be your boyfriend?” Jack teased. 

“Jack.” 

“You’re so cute, it’s too easy.”

“I’ve… um. Never done this before,” Bitty said quietly. 

“Done what? Had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah. I know you, er. You have.”

Jack thought of Parse, and how they’d found Bitty outside his room during the epikegster. He knew about them in an abstract sense, then, but not the details. He’d have to explain all of it at some point. “That doesn’t matter to me,” was all he said.

“So… are you? My boyfriend?” Eric sounded so tentative, so hopeful, that Jack couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yeah. If you’ll have me.” 

“Oh.” Bitty sounded overwhelmed, and Jack closed his eyes, imagining for a moment that he could run his fingers through the short hairs at the back of Bitty’s head.

“Is that a yes?” Jack asked softly. 

Bitty sniffled a little. “It’s a yes.”

“Good, glad we have that out of the way,” Jack said, and Bitty laughed, a light, airy sound. 

Jack glanced at the clock. “I gotta go.” He paused again, realizing his panic was basically gone. “Thank you.” 

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

Jack snorted, and he felt the tight feeling in his chest relaxing even further. “Talk to you after.”

“Bye.”

Eric was nervous the entire way to Providence. When he finally arrived in T.F. Green, he was as jittery as if he’d had four cups of coffee that morning.

As he stepped out past security in the tiny airport, he looked around, but he didn’t see Jack anywhere. Frowning, he pulled out his phone, looking to see if Jack had texted or called to say he was late.

He was still looking down when he was swooped up into a hug from behind.

“Bitty,” Jack said into his ear, squeezing him tight.

“Jack.” As soon as Jack relaxed his grip a little, he turned around to hug him properly, tucking his head under Jack’s chin to hug him. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too.” 

Eric released him, looking up into Jack’s eyes, which were a soft greyish blue today. He was overcome with the urge to stand up on his tiptoes and kiss Jack, but knew he couldn’t, not in public.

Jack seemed to share the sentiment, his forehead creasing and his eyes darting around. “Let’s get your bag,” he said quietly. 

The wait by at baggage claim felt like an eternity, standing next to Jack but not being able to touch him. Jack was wearing a dark grey v-neck shirt, a Red Sox baseball cap, and jeans, and his hair looked just-washed. Eric had to stop himself from staring too long Jack’s behind in those jeans… that was simply unfair.

His bag finally came out and they were able to walk to Jack’s car in the parking lot.

Jack put his suitcase in the back, and opened the door for Eric before he got into the driver’s side. He didn’t move to turn on the car right away, instead reaching over to cup Eric's face with one hand, and looking at Eric as if he hadn’t seen him in a year instead of a month. 

Eric’s eyelids fluttered a bit at the contact. “Can we…?” he asked. 

“When we get home,” Jack said. “These windows are tinted, but I don’t think we can risk it. People around here are more likely to recognize me.”

Eric nodded, realizing belatedly that he was watching Jack’s lips as he spoke. 

The drive from T.F. Green into downtown Providence wasn’t very long, and Eric rolled down the window to feel the breeze on the highway. After a few minutes, Jack reached over to take Eric’s hand as he drove, and Eric smiled to himself.

Eric had never been to Providence before, but as they drove through downtown, the cobblestone streets and old 18th century buildings gave the city a small-town New England feel.

“What do you think?” Jack asked. 

“It’s really pretty, actually. I thought Providence was supposed to be… I don’t know.”

“The ‘armpit of New England?’” Jack said, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, yeah.”

“The city was cleaned up a lot by their mayor, but then he was arrested for being too involved with the mafia. Providence cabbies still always talk about how much they love him, though.” 

“Wow,” Eric said. They drove past a beautiful canal which ran through the middle of the city, sparkling in the summer sunlight, and then up a steep hill, past a university campus. Eventually they pulled into a residential neighborhood. There were a lot of older houses, some of which were a bit run down, but others looked like they were mansions from some of the original Providence elite. They turned onto a quiet street, and Jack pulled into the driveway in front of a light blue Victorian house with navy trim, which had several old oak trees in front.

Bitty jumped out, grabbing his carry-on, and Jack grabbed his bag from the back of the car. They walked up the old-fashioned stone steps and inside. 

The interior had obviously been renovated, and there was a white lacquered staircase. There were varnished dark wood floors throughout, and the hallway and staircase (which was everything Eric could see from the entryway) were freshly painted. 

“Jack, this is beautiful!”  

“I’m glad you like it.” Jack twisted his cap around so that it was on backward. “I want you to feel at home here.” 

“Is there a—” Eric started to say, but before he could, Jack was spinning him around and capturing his lips in a kiss.

Eric’s eyes fell closed, and he melted into Jack’s embrace, his hands encircling Jack’s lower back. Jack pulled Eric closer, and slid his hand into the hair at the back of his head. Eric shivered, letting his lips part slightly so that Jack’s tongue could slip in. Jack kissed him deeply, and Eric didn’t think he could ever get enough.

After a minute, Jack pulled back just a little, and leaned his forehead against Eric’s. “Hi,” he said. 

“Hi.” Eric grinned. 

“Want to see the rest of the house? 

“Sure.”

Jack took his hand, still smiling, and led him down the hall.

They walked down the hallway into a large open space that looked like it had once been the kitchen, living room, and dining room.

“Oh my lord,” Eric whispered, completely in awe. 

The entire space had been converted into a kitchen, with white cabinets on both sides, and a huge island in the middle. There was a huge double oven on one wall, and an eight-burner stove with a built in pancake griddle in the middle. The countertops were grey granite, and the mid morning light was streaming in through the big bay windows in the far side over a small breakfast nook. There was a brand new kitchenaid mixer on one side, and all the baking implements he could ever possibly want. Basically, it was the kitchen of his wildest dreams.

“Oh my lord,” Eric said again. 

“I had it renovated,” Jack said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “The kitchen wasn’t big enough before.”

“Why? You don’t cook very much.”

“Um,” Jack ducked his head, rocking back on his feet a bit. “It was for you,” he admitted.

Overwhelmed, Eric opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking between Jack and the kitchen, and wondering how he got so lucky. 

“There’s one more thing,” Jack said, before Eric could say anything. “These.” He pointed toward the island, where there were some paper sacks.

“What are they?” Eric walked over and looked inside the first one. It was flour.

“I was going to get you flowers, but um… instead, I decided to get you flours.” Jack gestured at the bags, looking sheepish. “For baking,” he added unnecessarily. 

Eric felt like his chest was caving in with how much he loved him at that moment. He acted on impulse, fisting his hand in the front of Jack’s shirt and pulling him down to kiss him.

Jack made a noise of surprise, but quickly returned the kiss, his hands sliding around Eric’s waist. Frustrated with the height difference, Eric stood up on his tiptoes, and Jack bent his knees at the same time, so they hit their foreheads together. They both laughed, rubbing their heads.

“There has to be a better way to do this,” Eric said. 

“I have an idea.” Jack picked him up with surprising ease and plunked him on the counter, stepping between his legs. “Better?” He asked, his voice lower.

Eric’s face was at exactly the same height as Jack’s in this position, so all he did was nod. Jack cupped his face, stepping forward to kiss him deeply.

Eric wrapped his legs around Jack’s hips, so that he was completely wrapped around Jack. Jack flicked his tongue against his mouth, and Eric felt his lips part involuntarily. They kissed lazily, bathed in afternoon sunlight in the enormous kitchen, and Eric didn’t think he could possibly be happier than at that moment. 

Eventually, Jack kissed Eric’s lips once more, lightly this time.

“Do you want to shower?” Jack brushed Eric’s bottom lip with his thumb, which made him feel as though his stomach was dropping out.

“Um.” Eric felt himself blush. He’d been thinking a lot about what he wanted to do while he was visiting Jack, and he was ready to go farther than before, but this was a bit… quick.

“By yourself, Bittle.” There was a glint in Jack’s eyes. “This time, anyway,” he added. 

Oh Lord, the man is going to give me an aneurism, Eric thought.

“O-okay,” he said aloud. “Shower first. Then what?”

Jack grinned, looking proud of himself. “I’m taking you on a date.” 

“Oh really?” Eric ran his fingertips along the line on Jack’s lower back between his t-shirt and his jeans. “Where are we going?” 

“It’s a surprise.” 

“Aren’t you worried that someone will recognize us? That you’ll get papped?”

Jack shrugged. “It’s easily explained. You’re my former teammate, and we are just out for dinner while you visit. We just can’t, um… hold hands or anything, at least not outside.”

Eric felt his heart sinking a little. He had known that this was going to be the reality of dating someone in the closet, and it had been the same while they were in Madison, but it was still like being doused in cold water. 

“I’m sorry, Bits,” Jack said gently. “I know this isn’t easy.” 

Eric kissed him once more. “It’s not your fault.” 

Jack’s eyes were tinged with sadness. “C’mon, let’s get you a shower.”

The shower was a huge walk-in one, obviously part of the renovations, with an enormous sunflower shower head. Eric sang some Beyoncé as he washed for old time’s sake, half expecting Jack to burst in and shut him up. Instead, he heard Jack singing along from outside, his voice straining and cracking on the high notes, which made Eric laugh so hard he couldn’t sing anymore. Jack had obviously been listening to his playlist. 

When he emerged, Jack was standing at the mirror in dark jeans and a white button down, trying to tie the blue tie he’d worn on graduation and failing admirably.

Jack looked over at him as he entered the room, and his eyes flicked down Eric’s body, which was covered only by a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh,” Eric said, feeling suddenly extremely… naked. 

Jack seemed to share the sentiment, and he bit his lip, averting his eyes.  “Once you’re done getting dressed, do you want to help me with this?” He lifted the tie.

“Sure,” Eric said, trying not to laugh. Unless you want to just skip dinner altogether, he wanted to add, but Jack wanted to take him on a date—he was even putting on a tie—and he couldn’t pass that up. 

“I’ll be downstairs.” Jack left, still not quite looking at Eric. 

Eric dressed carefully in some khakis, a seersucker jacket, and a light blue bow tie, excitement lighting him up from within.

When Eric came down the stairs, Jack was in the front hallway, and was now wearing a black jacket. He was still holding the tie in his hands, shifting from foot to foot, and when his eyes focused on Eric, they lit up in a way that made Eric’s chest tighten.

“Here.” Eric took the tie and pulled it around Jack’s neck.

“Thanks.” 

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted to kiss you last time I did this?” Eric said, finishing the knot and straightening the tie.

“Well, now you can.”  

“Thank god.” Eric turned his face upward, letting Jack duck down to kiss him, softly, twice.

“We better go. Reservations.” Jack grinned, grabbing his hand and leading him out the door into the late afternoon light.

Jack drove him across town to a neighborhood that he called the “Little Italy of Providence.” There was a grand archway over the street, and dozens of Italian restaurants, bars and bakeries up and down the street. Jack parked on a side street and they walked up to one of the fancier-looking restaurants.

“Smells amazing,” Eric said as they walked up to the Maitre d’ and Jack gave his name. 

Jack looked down at him nervously, as they were led back to a table in an alcove. “Er, I should have asked, do you even like Italian, I didn’t think—”

“It’s perfect,” Eric said softly, touching Jack’s arm just a bit. “I love Italian.”

Jack seemed reassured at that, and Eric felt warmth blooming in his chest all over again, because Jack wanted this to be perfect, for him—for them. 

“This place claims to be the best on Federal Hill, but then, they all say that,” Jack said, picking up his menu once they’d settled in.

Eric picked up his menu as well. “Well, I’m starving. What’s good here?” 

“You can never go wrong with spaghetti and meatballs, Bittle.”

Eric laughed. “Oh lord, Zimmermann, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Their waiter came and brought them bread, and took their drink orders. Once she whisked away again, Eric glanced over at some ten year old boys who were obviously with their families, and had been arguing and gesturing toward them for several minutes. 

“I think you have some fans,” Eric said, sipping his water and nodding toward the boys.

Jack glanced over at them and smiled, nodding slightly, and one of the boys looked like he was about to faint. 

“Oh, lord,” Eric giggled, laughing into his napkin.

After a couple more minutes of dithering, they came over and asked for Jack’s autograph.  

“Are you excited to play Kent Parson?” one of the boys asked, as Jack was signing a napkin.

“Sure,” Jack said, in an easy way that Eric was sure was faked. “Kent and I bring out the best in each other on the ice. It will be great to skate with him again, even if we are wearing different jerseys.” Eric watched the entire interaction quietly, but with interest. It was odd to see how Jack interacted with the public; it was as if Jack had constructed walls around himself, to make sure that the outside world only saw a carefully crafted sliver of him.

As Jack took a selfie with the boys, Eric realized that he was one of the only people who got to see the real him, and that was more precious than anything else.

Once the boys finally went back to their seats, Jack turned back to Eric with a slightly embarrassed look. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think people would recognize me already,” he said, taking a piece of bread. “I haven’t even been in an NHL game yet.” 

“The famous Jack Zimmermann? How could they not?” Eric chirped.

“Oh, stop.” 

Eric glanced around the restaurant, and a couple of other people had noticed and were looking in their direction. 

“Are you worried that someone will post on twitter about this or something?” 

Jack shrugged. “I talked to my PR person about it yesterday, she’s dealt with this stuff before. She said that as long as we were just out together, just doing stuff that friends would do, it should be fine. Plausible deniability.”

Eric’s mouth felt dry. “Plausible…” Eric took a sip of his water, trying to steady himself. It sounded like they were keeping something truly awful under wraps. Deep down, it made perfect sense Jack had consulted a PR person, but at the same time… it felt so wrong for a PR rep to be dictating whether or not he could be out on a date with his boyfriend.  

Jack seemed to pick up on his unease. “What’s wrong?” 

Eric looked up at him, and considered lying, but quickly discarded the idea. They had to be straight with each other from the beginning in order for this to work. “I just… wish we could be on a date and not have to consult PR about it.”

“Oh.” Jack’s gaze fell, his jaw working slightly.

“Jack—” Eric started to say.

“No, I… I’m glad you said something. There’s something we should talk about.” Jack looked like he was having trouble with what he wanted to say, and Eric knew this wasn’t easy for him, so he tried to stay silent and patient.

Jack bit his lip, still looking at the table. “You know, Parse and I… we… you know, back in the juniors.” 

Eric was taken aback at the quick change in topic, but he just nodded. “After the epikegster, I figured… I mean. Yes.”

“We only ever met in secret, in the back of the locker room or in a hotel room on road trips. We were never… we never went out together in public, unless it was with the team. It was always an extra burden, having to hide my sexuality on top of all the pressure to be like my dad. But Parse was even more afraid of being found out than I was.” 

Eric felt like his heart was breaking, watching Jack push a bread crumb across the table with his forefinger. 

Jack went on. “During our last year before the draft, the pressure just got… too much. They prescribed me anti-anxiety drugs--valium, xanax… and I just started taking more and more of them. It got to the point where I couldn’t go through a day without taking several pills. And Parse… he didn’t help. He was too caught up in himself. We were both so young, and he… he wasn’t good for me.” Jack smoothed the crumb off the table. “And then one day, not too long before the draft, Parse and I had a fight. I wanted to tell my parents about us, and he… he panicked. He told me I’d never be as good as my dad and I was just setting myself up for failure. And when he stormed out, I took a whole bottle of xanax. You know the rest. It was all over the news.” 

By that point, Eric was having trouble holding back tears, and he wanted more than anything to take Jack in his arms and hold him. 

“I’m telling you all this because… I want you to know how bad it can get. It nearly destroyed me once. I know you had to hide from your family, but being in the spotlight is completely different than just being in the closet. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll completely understand.” Jack’s lower lip wobbled a little bit, but he looked like he was done with his speech.

Eric glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but everyone seemed to have gone back to their dinners and weren’t paying attention to the minor celebrity half-hidden in the corner. So he slid one hand under the table to touch Jack’s knee, since he couldn’t reach over the table and take Jack’s hand.

“Jack, look at me,” he said. Jack obeyed, meeting his gaze tentatively, the pain of the past reflected in his eyes, and Eric hated himself for it.  “I said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m sad that it has to be like this, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” he said firmly. “I don’t want anything else, or anyone else. Okay?”

Jack’s lips twitched upward, slightly, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I don’t deserve you, Bits.” His hand covered Eric’s under the table, and Eric turned his upward so that their fingers were interlaced. 

“I’m so sorry you went through all of that,” Eric whispered.

Jack sighed, a long exhale, as if he had been holding in so much pain that he’d forgotten how to breathe. “I’m not,” he said, meeting Eric’s eyes again. “Sorry it happened, I mean.” 

“You’re not?”

Jack’s hand squeezed his hand under the table, and his eyes were so sad, but at the same time so warm and honest. “No. Because if all of that hadn’t happened, if I hadn’t overdosed and been passed over for the draft, I would never have gone to Samwell, and I would never have met you.” 

Eric felt completely overwhelmed for a moment. “Jack,” he said softly. Do you have any idea how much I love you? he thought.

“Sorry, that was all a bit much for a first date, wasn’t it?” 

“No,” Eric looked down at his menu, trying to collect himself a little bit. “No, it wasn’t too much.”

After dinner—and some truly delightful tiramisu which had Eric wishing he could pick the pastry chef's brain—Eric assumed that Jack would be taking him directly back home, but instead Jack drove downtown and parked again.

“Where are we going?”

“Just wait and see,” Jack said, walking around the car to open the door for him.

Eric sighed resignedly. He walked alongside Jack in the gathering dusk, and wished for the umpteenth time that evening that he could take Jack’s hand. 

Eventually, they turned a corner, and he could hear some kind of classical music.

“What is that?”

“You’ll see.”

Eric rolled his eyes, frustrated but also excited by all the secrecy. They walked further, until the canal was in sight in the gathering dusk.

“Oh lord,” Eric said, stopping in his tracks.

All along the water of the canal, at regular intervals, there were floating cages of wood that had been lit on fire. Speakers in the distance were playing an opera song, and people were walking up and down the canal or sitting on benches. It was truly ethereal, the sunset reflected in the darkness of the water, the fire dancing over it, like something out of a dream. 

“What is this?” Eric asked, in awe. 

“It’s called Waterfire. They do it all summer, on Saturday nights.” 

“This is amazing.” 

Jack lightly touched the small of his back. “Let’s walk.” 

They wandered up the canal, walking slowly, and listening to the music, for about half an hour. Eventually, Jack led him to a bridge that ran over the water.

Jack leaned over, resting his forearms on the ledge, and Eric did the same. They looked out on the canal, the flickering light of the fires against the water in the growing darkness, and the orchestral piece swelled in the background. It was the most romantic moment of his life up until then, even though he couldn’t kiss Jack, or even hold his hand.

“Are you having a good time?” Jack asked.

“The best,” Eric said sincerely. He watched Jack, looking out over the water, the summer breeze ruffling his hair, and something fundamental inside of him shifted. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get his hands on Jack, everywhere. 

As if reading his thoughts, Jack turned to look at him, and the heat he saw there made him shiver. 

“Oh, lord,” Eric whispered. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Jack’s eyes dilated a little more, and he made a small aborted motion, as if he was about to move closer then thought better of it.

“Car,” was all he said, and they both started walking quickly in that direction.

The car ride back was agony. It felt like Bitty’s entire body was tingling with anticipation, and it was all he could do to keep his hands in his own lap rather than touch Jack. 

They finally got back to the house, and the second the door closed behind them Jack was pushing him up against the door, capturing his mouth in a kiss. He pulled Eric’s coat off at the same time, and Eric did his best to take Jack’s jacket off. 

Eric gasped, his hands running around to grab Jack’s ass, trying to pull him closer. Jack groaned, and he lifted Eric up. Eric got the idea, wrapping his legs around Jack’s hips, so that Jack was supporting him against the wall. 

Jack was able to kiss him more easily once they were in that position, and at the same time their hips were now lined up, and he could feel the beginning of Jack’s erection against him. Jack was still kissing him, and Eric tried experimentally rolling his hips. Jack shuddered, leaning into it, and Eric pulled off the tie he’d so carefully knotted that afternoon. It wasn’t enough; they still had too many clothes on.

“Jack,” Bitty gasped between kisses. “Jack,” he pushed Jack back enough so that he could see his eyes. 

“What?” Jack panted, his eyes dark. “Do you need me to stop?”

“No. Take me to bed,” Eric said.

Jack looked frozen, like he had on the Fourth of July when Eric had told him that he wanted to do… things with him. It was almost funny—well it would have been, if he weren’t desperate to get Jack out of his clothes. 

“Now, Jack,” Eric said more forcefully.

Jack didn’t lower him to his feet, as he’d expected, but rather carried him up the stairs to his bedroom. 

“Good lord, you’re strong,” Eric gasped, as Jack dropped him on the bed. They both tried to take each others’ shirts off as they were kissing, but eventually they both gave up and each of them unbuttoned their own shirt and tossed them to the ground. 

Now with only his jeans on, Jack pressed Eric into the bed. As frantic as their movements had been up until now, Jack seemed to deliberately slow down, and thumbed Eric’s lips before kissing him once, lightly.

“I’m right here,” Eric heard himself saying. He felt the need to reassure Jack, even though he was the one who had never done this before.

“Tell me, just… tell me if you need to stop.” Jack started kissing his neck until Eric’s toes curled against the sheets. 

“I don’t see that happening, but okay,” Eric gasped, and Jack laughed, continuing to kiss down Eric’s chest, tonguing his left nipple. Eric’s back arched and he cried out a little, completely unprepared for how much that feeling would go straight to… other places. 

“Hmm,” Jack hummed, trying the other one and getting a similar result. He kissed down to Eric’s stomach, and Eric felt every nerve ending in his skin lighting up.

“Jack,” he moaned. Jack unbuttoned Bitty’s pants, pulling them off and throwing them to the floor. Jack pulled his boxer-briefs down, mouthing at the v of his hip, until he had almost reached the line of his public hair but not quite, nipping his skin just enough to stop short of actual pain. Then he moved over to the other hip and started the same agonizing process. 

Eric decided that Jack was trying to torture him.

“Still okay?” he heard Jack saying from far away.

“Don’t you dare stop,” he managed, and Jack finally, finally pulled off his briefs and threw them off the bed.

“J-Jack,” Eric stuttered. Jack didn’t reply, instead enveloping the head of Eric’s cock with his mouth.

Eric moaned at the heat wrapped around him, his hips bucking up against his will, and Jack pushed them down again with his forearm.

“Oh my god,” Eric moaned, his hand finding Jack’s hair, as Jack licked and sucked up and down Eric’s cock. He was drowning in sensation, and he wasn’t sure what he was saying or doing, because his entire world was focused on Jack’s mouth around his cock.

Then Jack swallowed his cock all the way down, and Eric lost all ability to think rationally. Jack swallowed around him three times, and he was coming, and he was pretty sure he was screaming Jack’s name as he did.

In his haze afterward, he was vaguely aware that Jack was now naked and on top of him, kissing him, and rutting against his hip. He reached down to take Jack’s cock in hand and Jack shuddered, muttering some obscenities, as he thrust into Eric’s hand for a few minutes, before he came all over Eric’s stomach.

Jack collapsed on top of him, both of them panting.

“Lord,” Eric managed to say eventually. “That’s what I’ve been missing?”

Still breathing heavily, Jack slowly propped himself up on his forearms, looking down at Eric, his eyes spilling over a little bit. Eric reached up, touching the tear at the corner of his eye.

“I’m right here, honey,” Eric whispered. “I’ve got you.” 

Looking overwhelmed, Jack leaned down, still shivering a bit, to kiss Eric again, and Eric wrapped his arms and legs around Jack as best he could, considering the fact that he wasn’t completely in control of his limbs. They kissed slowly, and Eric felt his entire being singing with joy.

Eventually Jack leaned back. “I’m going to get a cloth to clean us up, okay?”

“Kay,” Eric said, smiling languidly. Jack kissed him once more, then got up and went into the bathroom, and Eric let himself ogle Jack’s fantastic bare ass as he walked, because… well, surely, he was allowed to do that now. 

Jack returned to clean them both off, then threw the towel down on the floor and climbed back in bed. Eric turned onto his side and Jack spooned up behind him. As Eric started to drift off, warm and encircled by Jack, exactly where he wanted to be.

The morning sun was shining down through the wavy skylight above the bed as Eric slowly woke up, tangled in the sheets. He blinked his eyes open to see Jack lying on his side, watching him.

“Morning.” Jack’s smile was soft, and rare, as he reached out to touch Eric’s cheek. It was such a small, caring gesture, that it made Eric’s heart squeeze a little.

Eric smiled back sleepily.  “Morning,” he said. 

“Was it… all right?” Jack asked tentatively. 

“Was what… oh,” Eric said, realizing the answer to his own question halfway through asking it. “Um… I couldn’t imagine it being better.” 

Jack grinned wider, and it lit up his entire face in a way Eric had never seen before. If he had one goal for the rest of his life, it would be to make Jack smile like that every day.

“Just wait until next time,” he said teasingly. 

“Oh,” Eric felt himself go a bit dizzy.

"If... I mean, if you want to."

"Of course I want to, you dolt." Eric giggled.

“I love you,” Jack blurted out, blinking after he said it, as if surprised that the words left his lips.

Eric felt the air rush out of his lungs, and the simultaneous feeling of being unbelievably happy and completely petrified—of having to hide from his parents, from the team, from the world, and what this would mean for both of them.

“Jack,” he started to say, and Jack looked horrified.

“It’s too soon, isn’t it? Merde, I shouldn’t have…”

He started to recoil, and Eric sat up. “No, no. Jack. Stop.” 

“I’m sorry, I—” 

Eric grabbed his wrist, but it didn’t seem to be enough. Impulsively, he swung himself over Jack in one motion, pinning him down. “Jack Zimmerman, listen to me.”

Jack gulped, looking up at him. Eric tried to give him his sternest face, which wasn’t easy considering that they were both still unclothed. 

“Are you listening?” 

Jack nodded, just a little, his jaw set into a square. 

Eric bit his lip, trying to put his thoughts in order. “I just… when you said it, it made me think about how hard this is going to be, for both of us, but especially for you.”

“You don’t have to say it back. It’s okay.” Jack’s eyes were too sad.

“You’re not understanding me.”

“I understand. You’re not ready—” 

“I love you too, okay?” Eric interrupted. “I love you so much that it feels like I don’t fit in my own skin. I love you so much I want to shout it out the window right now. I want to call ESPN and tell them, I want to bake a pie that says I LOVE JACK in big letters and tweet a picture of it, then send it to my parents. That’s how much I love you. There’s no going back for me, not anymore. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone, and I wish everyone knew it.”

Jack looked up at him with such a stunned expression that for a moment Eric thought he’d had some kind of stroke. 

“Jack?” 

Jack pulled him down and rolled him at the same time so that he was beneath Jack, and Jack was kissing him and kissing him, and laughing, and then they were both laughing, but it was mixed with tears—from both of them.

“Bits,” Jack said, breaking away for a moment and pressing his forehead to Eric’s chest. He sniffled a little, as if he couldn’t quite find the words to express how he felt. 

“Yeah?” 

Jack rested his chin on Eric’s chest, and Eric smoothed his hair with one hand. 

“I can’t believe I found you,” Jack said, finally.

Eric couldn't breathe for a moment. “Me too,” he whispered, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

They were silent for a while, and Eric tipped his head back to look at the skylight, bathing in the light.

"When do you have to go back to school?" Jack asked eventually.

"Not for a week. Plenty of time," Eric said.

"For...?"

"For me to properly break in that kitchen." Eric looked down at Jack with a raised eyebrow, and Jack laughed.

"I thought you were going to say for us to have plenty of sex."

"Well, that too," Eric said, pulling Jack up to kiss him again, and Jack settled between his hips, kissing him soundly. Eric hummed into the kiss, completely content, and ready to face the future.