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Jack is lounging on his couch on a Friday, binging Mankind: The Story of All of Us on Netflix (not for the first time) when he hears a tentative knock on his door. Jack hadn’t planned on company so the knock makes him a little wary.
He takes a glance through his peephole and his eyes widen.
His cute, blonde neighbor – aka Eric Bittle, who also just happens to be a two-time winner of the Food Network’s Holiday Baking Championship, has a bakery a few blocks over that is apparently in talks to have a new TLC show based off it, and who has successfully published three cookbooks (Jack has all of them) – is at his door, looking slightly nervous. Jack literally has to take a deep breath before swinging his door open.
Eric is standing there looking flustered – oh god his eyes are even bigger in person – but he smiles when he sees Jack.
Jack’s stupid heart flutters a little.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt your evening,” Bittle says in that sweet southern accent of his. “I actually have a very weird question for you so, um sorry in advance.”
Jack’s mind races through a list of weird questions Eric could be at his door to ask him and the list ranges from innocent egg-borrowing to weird, cheesy porno-starting questions. Instead of blurting out something stupid, Jack opts to remain silent and stare.
Great approach, Zimmermann.
Eric’s smile falter’s a little bit at Jack’s silence – and probably also at whatever intense stare Jack’s giving him (it’s not his fault his eyes are just like that) – but he continues on anyway.
“My shower’s broken and our landlord can’t get anyone over to fix it until tomorrow,” Eric starts and okay is this actually going the cheesy porno route? “And I have a date tonight. Would you maybe…mind if I used your shower please?”
Jack is thrown off guard – both by the question and by the whole date part of the reasoning. So he just sort of…blinks and…says nothing.
Eric immediately flushes red and starts babbling.
“I’m sorry to totally spring this on you and I know it’s super weird and if it makes you uncomfortable at all whatsoever don’t even worry about it I can totally go up to the next floor and ask Mrs. Beverly though that honestly might be weirder and –”
“No it’s fine. You can use my shower,” Jack interjects quickly. And okay, fuck why did he do that? Jack’s definitely had a crush on the guy since Eric had introduced himself when he moved in over eight months ago so this is a problem for two reasons.
One, Eric is going on a date with someone else and Jack has a raging crush on him. Two, Eric wants to use Jack’s shower and will probably have to walk through Jack’s apartment wet and half naked at some point and Jack has a huge, raging crush on him.
“Oh,” Eric says, warm brown eyes getting comically even bigger, “wow, thank you! Oh wow, that’s so kind of you I really appreciate it. Let me just run back to my apartment and grab my stuff and I’ll be right back over!”
Bitty shoots Jack a huge grin – rest in peace Jack’s heart – and quickly heads down the hall to his door. Not quite sure what else to do, Jack stands there and waits awkwardly in his open door as Eric goes to grab his shower stuff.
Barely a minute or so later, Eric comes out of his door, still dressed but with slippers in place of his boat shoes, towel slung over his forearm and carrying a literal shower caddy of shower stuff.
He smiles at Jack again as he heads down the hall and Jack literally may not survive this night.
“Oh, by the way,” Eric says as he approaches Jack’s door. “I’m Eric Bittle.”
“I know,” Jack blurts immediately and….
Foot, meet mouth.
Eric’s mouth pops open a little bit so Jack just clears his throat and mutters, “Come on in.”
Jack’s apartment is the three-bedroom corner unit – the extra rooms are a guest room and a home gym – so it’s laid out pretty differently than the rest of the one and two-bedrooms on the floor. Jack almost considers leading Eric to the ensuite shower – it’s one of those dual-headed standing glass showers that could fit at least four people – but that’s a little too weird so he leads him to the guest bathroom in the hall.
“Wow your place is so different from mine!” Eric exclaims looking curiously around Jack’s place as he follows him. “To be fair, mine was renovated it so that it’s like honestly fifty percent kitchen, but still!”
The word kitchen makes Jack hyper-aware of the fact that all three of Eric’s books are among his recipe books on a shelf in his own kitchen and he prays that Eric doesn’t see them.
“Here’s uh the bathroom,” Jack said, pausing awkwardly outside the door. “It’s my guest bath so there should be extra stuff already in there. Even though you look all set. Uh…let me know if you need anything.”
“Okay!” Eric says brightly. “Seriously, once again, thank you so much! I totally owe you one, neighbor.”
Eric gives him another smile and slips into the bathroom, closing the door. Jack realizes he never even really introduced himself. He doubts that Eric even knows who he is. Sure, a lot of Providence and the surrounding area know who he is, but only if they pay attention to sports or followed hockey. Eric had never treated him any differently, so he doubts he knows that Jack plays in the NHL. It was sort of nice, in a way.
Jack hears the shower turn on and realized he’d been lingering while lost in thought so he makes his way back to the couch and starts up his documentary back up and tries not to be so weird.
About fifteen minutes later he hears the shower turn off and is immediately hyper-vigilant. It’s another few minutes before he hears the door open but he keeps watching the documentary, trying not to be creepy.
Eric clears his throat, somewhere behind Jack and Jack sits up straight to look at him over the back of the couch. Jack isn’t really sure what he did – in this life or a past one – to deserve any of this, but Eric is standing there, towel slung around his waist water dripping down his toned body. He’s wearing his goddamn slippers and has his clothes slung over one of his shoulders and Jack is suffering.
“So, thanks once again,” Eric says with another damn smile as he pushes his wet hair out of his face. “Seriously, I owe you big time!”
Jack stands up to walk Eric out, or something polite like that, and once he’s at the door he finally speaks.
“Don’t mention it. Hope you have fun on your date tonight.”
Eric says a sincere thanks and is halfway down the hall before Jack speaks again.
“I’m Jack, by the way,” He says, in a moment of bravery. “Jack Zimmermann.”
“Oh, I know,” Eric says with a smirk and an eyebrow raise and promptly disappears into his apartment.
Jack is left standing half in the hallway, half in his apartment reeling at the fact that he just got chirped by Eric Bittle.
Jack’s not normally that confrontational off the ice, but when it interrupts his sleep, he is. It’s nearly three a.m. and his alarm is set for three hours from now for his run but he’s been awake for probably nearly an hour by now due to the noises that are coming from next door. Were it any other night or situation, Jack probably could’ve popped in some earplugs. But he was almost certain that, thanks to the loud, distinctive moaning coming from next door, Eric and his date were fucking like proverbial bunnies.
So maybe Jack had been dumb and stupid and let himself hope that maybe Eric’s date was a first date or a blind date or something and that if it didn’t go well, Jack could ask him out. Maybe. If he ever got the balls to actually even talk to Eric again. He’s been out in the NHL for two years now and he knows Bitty’s out to the public, too (there were lots of pictures of him at Boston Pride and Jack may have watched a speech Eric gave at Emerson, his alma mater, on youtube that Jack sort of maybe teared up at).
The point was Jack was finally, maybe, going to act on his crush and now he has to listen to said crush have sex with someone else. And jesus they’re being so loud too. Jack hopes it’ll end soon.
After a few more minutes of it decidedly not ending soon, Jack’s had enough. He’s out of bed – shirt be damned, he has pants on and he’s tired – and down the hall, banging on Eric’s door. Hopefully loud enough that Eric can hear him over all the moaning. He waits a moment, about to knock loudly again, maybe even try the doorbell (he forgot that their apartments had those sometimes) when he hears footsteps on the other side of the door.
The door opens and Jack’s about to go off on his – polite, but stern – tirade, but Eric’s standing there, fully clothed in a silk pajama set blinking blearily at Jack and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
All of Jack’s carefully planned conversation has flown out the window and he instead asks Eric, “how are you sleeping through this?”
It startles a sleepy, surprised laugh out of Eric. “I’m actually not. I’ve been trying to, but even my headphones and music can’t block it out. To be fair, uh, I thought it was you. But obviously it’s not.”
“I thought it was you,” Jack says and they make eye contact and both laugh.
Eric looks up at the ceiling, ponders for a moment, then looks at Jack, horrified. Jack is thrown before Eric explains.
“Oh, lord. If it’s not you, and it’s not me then it has to be…” Eric trails off, then whispers dramatically. “Mrs. Beverly.”
Jack feels the shock and heat on his face at the realization. Good god. He sometimes helps her carry her groceries up from her car in the parking garage (even though it was technically him just holding her bags in an elevator). He has flashbacks to taking Human Sexuality with Shitty sophomore year and the documentary they watched on older women and sex and Jack shudders.
“I could’ve lived my whole life in peace not knowing that,” Jack says and he means it but it makes Eric giggle sweetly so he’s glad Eric finds him funny, even when he’s not trying to be.
Eric’s laugh quickly turns into a yawn.
“Ugh, lord. I have to be at work so early, this isn’t fair,” Eric grumbles.
Just as Eric says this, the noises above them reach a crescendo, then stop.
“Oh thank God,” Jack says without even realizing it. “Well then, I guess I’ll turn in.”
“Me too,” Eric agrees. “See ya around, Jack. Though I hope next time I do it’s under more normal circumstances."
Jack walks back to his apartment feeling a little floaty.
Next time.
The next day Jack follows Eric on both twitter and Instagram. He doesn’t use twitter much, but PR set one up for him. He mostly uses it to reply to fans every now and then or to makes comments after games. His Instagram, however, is private and a lot more personal. After Lardo helped him get the hang of it in college, Jack used it to post his photography as well as occasionally photos of him and his old Samwell friends as well as his new Providence ones too. He kept the number of people following him fairly low and that way it felt more like his than anything else.
He’s not sure if following Eric on two social media platforms in one day is desperate, but it’s not like he cares barely an hour later when Eric follows him back on twitter and requests to follow him on Instagram. He feels like he’s in middle school again with the way this crush on Eric makes him feel.
Shitty and Lardo are visiting Jack that following weekend – their annual summer visit before pre-season starts – when there’s a knock on the door. It’s a Friday night and they’re in Jack’s kitchen laughing and talking. He’s had two beers, and his best friends are in his kitchen and Jack feels good.
His heart nearly stops when he opens his door to see Eric Bittle on the other side, holding a pie. Jack is just enough on the edge of tipsy (two beers is a lot more potent when you rarely drink) that he unabashedly grins at Eric.
“Jack, hi,” Eric says, and he sounds a little breathless. Did he just climb the stairs? If he did where’d the pie come from? “I, um, just wanted to say thank you for Wednesday. So I made you a pie.”
Before Jack has the chance to say anything, he hears Shitty yell “PIE?!” from the kitchen and the next thing he knows, Shitty’s at the door with him.
“Sup, brah. Name’s Shitty. Jack’s best friend and linemate from college, currently a Civil Rights Attorney in Boston.”
“Oh!” Eric says with a smile. “I went to Emerson in Boston for undergrad. Is uh…your name’s not actually Shitty, right?”
“Hell no,” Shitty laughs. “My real first name is top secret, completely need-to-know. It’s a hockey nickname.”
“I was gonna say, your parents would be kinda shitty to actually name you Shitty,” Eric says.
Jack is too focused on the fact that Eric’s easily chirping Shitty within minutes of meeting him to realized Lardo’s joined them.
“Please don’t get him started on his terrible parents, we’ll be here all night,” Lardo chirps, though her voice is fond. “I’m Larissa, but you can call me Lardo.”
“I’m Eric. Eric Bittle, it’s nice to meet y’all!” Eric thrusts the pie out to Jack, clearing his throat. “It’s maple sugar crusted apple and it’s really good, I promise. Thank you again, Jack. I’ll leave you to it though, let me know how you like the pie!”
“You should stay,” Jack offers as he takes the pie, and he realizes how soft his voice sounds. “We’re just hanging out if you want to join us.”
Shitty and Lardo chime in in agreement and Eric checks the time on his phone. He frowns as he locks his phone and looks up at the three sheepishly.
“That’s so sweet of y’all and I wish I could, I really do,” Eric says genuinely. “But unfortunately I have to be up at 5am tomorrow to be at the bakery.”
“You sure?” Jack asks and he doesn’t know quite how to portray just how much he wants Eric to come in and hang out with Jack and his friends.
“I really would but if I don’t get to sleep soon, I know I’ll hate myself all tomorrow,” Eric explains, looking bummed. “Y’all have fun though, and try to keep it down, alright? I don’t wanna have to come over and bang on your door asking you to keep quiet tonight.”
Eric outright winks at Jack as he turns to head down the hall. It surprises a laugh out of Jack – both the wink and Eric’s little inside joke – and he can’t help but watch Eric until he’s at his door and out of sight.
He turns in his doorway to see both Shitty and Lardo looking at him with raised eyebrows and matching smirks.
“Let me at least cut myself a slice of this pie before the two of you start chirping the shit out of me,” he tries to sound stern and annoyed, but it definitely comes out the opposite.
Minutes later they’re huddled around Jack’s kitchen island digging into the pie. Shitty’s outright moaning with every bite and Lardo’s got a far off look in her eyes and Jack’s never tasted anything so good in his life.
“So,” Shitty starts, mouth still full of pie. “You gonna tell us why that cute guy from down the hall baked you the best fuckin’ pie it has ever been my honor to put in my mouth?”
“Is he the same cute one you told me about a couple months ago?” Lardo asks, cutting herself a second piece of pie.
Shitty drops his fork, looking betrayed.
“You talked boys with Lardo but not me? I’m hurt Zimmermann,” Shitty says in mock offense.
“I mentioned him to Lardo once when he moved in,” Jack huffs. “It was in passing. It’s not a big deal. It still isn’t a big deal.”
“You sure about that?” Lardo asks flatly, the look she’s giving him clearly stating she sees right through his bullshit.
“Dude, you totally like him!” Shitty exclaims, coming around the island to noogie Jack, other arm slung aroung Jack’s shoulders. “Say it! ADMIT IT, ZIMMERMANN!”
“Fine, fine,” Jack pushes Shitty off him laughing. “I like him, okay?”
Shitty whoops and Lardo smiles but they see Jack deflate and are instantly serious.
“You like him,” Shitty starts.
“But…?” Lardo continues.
“But I’m almost sure he’s seeing someone,” Jack sighs. “’Almost sure’ as in, the first time we ever really talked other than passing polite hellos was the other day when he came over to ask if he could use my shower because his wasn’t working…because he was going on a date.”
Shitty groans dramatically and Lardo huffs a sigh.
“Okay, okay, hear me out,” Shitty starts. “For all you know it could’ve just been a first date.”
“Exactly!” Lardo chimes in. “And statistically, at least in my experience, first dates more often than not lead to nothing else.”
“I mean think about it,” Shitty continues. “If he were seriously dating someone, he totally could’ve used their shower. Right? And if he’s just casually dating someone then that doesn’t matter anyway cause you’re Jack Fucking Zimmermann. And not only are you Jack Fucking Zimmermann, you’re also the most beautiful motherfucker I know.”
“Not to mention you have the nicest ass I’ve ever seen,” Lardo offers.
“THAT TOO!” Shitty exclaims.
Jack bites back a grin, blushing. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the constant compliments and validation when Shitty and Lardo were around.
“Next time you see him thank him for the pie,” Lardo says. “Then casually ask him how his date went. If he had a great time and seems into the guy, wait it out.”
“And if he sounds like he had a bad time?” Jack asks.
“Pounce,” Lardo grins.
“I don’t know, you guys know how terrible I am with that kind of stuff.”
“Jack, seriously. This guy is cute,” Lardo says.
“Uh, that guy is hot, Lards, let’s not get it twisted. Did you see those shorts?” Shitty interjects.
Jack had definitely seen those shorts. Jack had been suffering ever since it got hot enough for his neighbor to whip them out, cause damn.
“And he made you a pie to say thank you,” Lardo continues, breaking into Jack’s thoughts.
“And did you hear that sweet southern drawl of his?” Shitty says in a terrible southern-belle accent.
“Hot and adorable,” Lardo says. “Rest in Peace Jack Zimmermann.”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Jack laughs. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Lardo smiles and Shitty nods.
Eric’s waiting for the elevator that very Monday morning as Jack is leaving for his morning run. He looks over his shoulder when he hears Jack’s footsteps and smiles sleepily. Eric’s gripping a to-go mug of coffee to his chest like his life depends on it and looks none too happy to be headed to work at five a.m. but he’s still the cutest thing Jack’s ever seen.
“Good morning,” Jack says politely, trying to be casual.
“’Morning,” Eric says through a yawn. “How’d you like the pie?”
The elevator dings and they get in together. Jack presses the lobby floor for both of them.
“Oh, the pie was delicious. My friends devoured most of it but I ate enough myself that I have a feeling if I were in preseason or regular season, my nutritionist would be coming for you for ruining my diet."
Eric laughs at that.
“I'm glad to hear it. I didn’t know if the whole maple thing was a little too stereotypical or if you even liked maple so I'm happy y'all liked it!"
"I honestly think your maple crusted apple pie is my new favorite dessert in the entire world," Jack says honestly as the elevator pings and they walk out into the lobby together. "You walking to work?"
Eric nods, "It's nice, just a couple blocks over."
"Okay. I'll walk with you."
"You don't have to," Eric says.
"I want to," Jack replies simply.
It's a nice morning out, one of the rare summer days where it's not too humid...yet. They walk in companionable silence for a moment before Eric speaks again.
“Also, how do you know it's your favorite? You haven’t even tried any of the rest of my pies or desserts yet!”
Yet. Jack holds on to that word.
“Even so,” Jack shrugs. “It was quite the thank you for something so simple.”
“It was the least I could do,” Eric says, genuinely.
This was Jack’s chance.
“So, did the date end up going well?” Jack asks, hoping his voice sounds as nonchalant as people always say it does in post-game interviews.
Eric makes a frustrated noise, “No, the guy was the worst. He talked abut himself the whole time. I could barley get a word in edgewise and when I did, he was condescending about everything I said. Everything. Like, you’ve gotta work really hard to be condescending about everything someone says.”
Jack laughs a little and it seems to please Eric, but part of Jack wants to find whatever ass Eric went out with and ask him if he knows what a catch he just let slip through his fingers.
“It’s fine though,” Eric continues. “It’s not like I really even liked him or anything? It was a setup anyway. But still, it was nice to actually have a date. Between how busy I am with work and well, everything else, it’s not like I go on dates all that often.”
“I’d like to take you on a date,” Jack blurts and, okay he’d meant for that to go a little more smoothly.
Eric whips his head over to look at Jack incredulously and it would be funny if Jack wasn’t feeing so incredibly awkward right now.
"I...you...are you being serious?" Eric stammers breathlessly, and this is the first time since Jack's met him that he's seen Eric at a loss for words.
"Um, yes?" Jack says but it comes out sounding like a question. "Very serious."
Eric lets out a soft, startled laugh and Jack's about to panic until he sees the look on his face. Eric's smile is bright and warm, like sunshine, and if Jack thought he was a goner before, well it didn't even compare to now.
"I'd...really love that?" Eric says and it comes out like a question too. Like Eric is stupefied that this is happening but also happy that it is.
Jack can't help the flutter in his heart and the stupid grin that comes over his face. He goes to reach into his pocket for his phone, but realizes he doesn't even have it on him, as he rarely does for his morning runs.
"Here, uh hand me your phone and I'll put my number in it," Jack says.
Eric rummages into his pocket and pulls out his phone, typing in a passcode and pulling up a new contact.
Jack takes the then offered phone and carefully types his number in, double - then triple - checking to make sure he didn't screw up a number here or there. He handed the phone back to Eric.
"Text me that it's you and then I'll text you about our...about our date," Jack says as they approach Eric's bakery.
"Okay," Eric says. Standing at his bakery door, clutching his phone to his chest and looking a little dumbfounded.
"I'll text you," Jack repeats before turning to start his morning run.
Jack goes through his run feeling like he's running on cloud nine. He's practically skipping, his heart beating even faster than usual. Once he's done and back at his apartment he waits until after he's showered to check his phone. He grabs his phone and heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. There are three texts from an unknown number, and Jack's grin returns as he quickly saves the number under a new contact.
EB: hi it’s eric
EB: this IS jack right?
EB: i’m still trying to convince myself that you asking me out this morning wasn’t something my evil sleep deprived brain cooked up
JZ: Haha this is jack
JZ: and no that wasn’t a dream
JZ: I’ve wanted to ask you on a date for a while now
It takes a bit for Eric to reply after that but for once Jack doesn’t let himself overthink it, he knows that Eric is busy working.
EB: lord you are not helping me convince myself this is NOT a dream
EB: jack zimmermann wants to take ME on a date
JZ: getting starstruck?
EB: oh hush you
JZ: I didn’t peg you as a hockey fan honestly
EB: mr. zimmermann that is stereotyping!
EB: okay but even if I wasn’t a hockey fan yall are all over the news all the time you’re basically local celebrities
JZ: if it makes you feel better I’ve seen both your episodes of holiday baking championship on food network
JZ: um I also have your cookbooks
Jack almost mentions the speech but he feels that may be crossing the line into creepy territory.
EB: you seriously have my cookbook??
JZ: yes
JZ: I was scared you’d see it in my kitchen when you used my shower
EB: good lord you are so cute
They text sporadically throughout the day. Eventually Jack realizes they’d never even set a day for their date so he asks Eric what’s good for him and they agree on Thursday night. Eric has to be in the bakery most Saturday mornings for brunch so Thursday would give them plenty of time to go out without Eric having to worry about getting home at a decent hour to get some sleep.
Jack texts Tater asking if he has any suggestions of first-date-worthy restaurants around town. Sure, Jack’s been living in Providence for a few years now but he’s not good at this kind of stuff. He doesn’t want to go somewhere super fancy to the point of pretentious, but he wants to make a good first impression.
Tater texts back a string of exclamation points before offering a few suggestions. Jack thanks him and Tater tells him he hopes it goes well.
Jack really hopes it goes well, too.
It goes well.
It goes beyond well and into amazing territory.
Jack ended up choosing a restaurant within walking distance that apparently has an amazing desert menu.
Jack gives Eric the option to either meet him there at 7, or meet him on their floor so they can walk over together. Eric chooses the latter so at 6:45 they meet at the elevators.
It's a little stilted at first, conversation a little quiet because Jack's never been that great at talking. However, it doesn't take long between the walk over and getting their drinks - a glass of wine each and a water - for Eric to get Jack to open up. There's something about Eric where Jack feels comfortable enough to really talk about everything. It's rare for Jack to meet someone like that and even rarer that he's also attracted to that person. While he and Lardo bonded over silence, when either of them felt the need to talk - it was easy for them. Shitty has always been that friend for him, though. The one that Jack felt he could actually vocalize all the things that were going on in his head to. Jack could sit there and info-dump about some obscure battle in WWII and Shitty listened.
But it's different when you look at someone you could see yourself being in a relationship and feeling that comfort - and to have it happen so soon.
Eric tells him about his time at Emerson in Boston. How a huge reason for his choice was that it was a top-rated LGBT friendly school and how it was like a breath of fresh air to be out of his tiny, conservative southern town and in a place where he could be out.
He played hockey at Emerson - even had a scholarship for it. Eric recounts the story of how he used to be terrified of checking and how his teammates helped him get over his fears - even if he preferred a swerve to a check. Apparently he was a figure skater when he was younger and he found ways to tie that into the game. As a former and current captain, Jack respects that.
Jack in turn tells Eric about his time coaching Peewee as well as his time at Samwell - Emerson was in a different division than Samwell, so they never played a game against each other.
He skips the juniors and the overdose – there will be time to talk about that later, Jack hopes. But he does pour his guts out a little bit to Eric about the pressure of growing up as the son of one of the most famous, talented, and successful NHL players to date. He in turn shares how being decidedly not straight didn't really help with that in the slightest. Eric looks like he wants to say something important in reply to that but just ends up shaking his head and motioning for Jack to continue.
So Jack does.
They talk for so long, Eric looks around at one point long after they've finished desert and blinks dazedly.
"Um, Jack?" Eric says.
"Mmmhmmm?"
"I'm pretty sure we're the last people here. Like I can tell they totally wanna close up but are being too polite to kick us out."
Jack looks around. Eric's right, save for a few stragglers at the swanky bar, he and Eric are the only ones left in the restaurant.
"Oh," Jack says dumbfounded. They'd been there for hours.
Eric laughs sweetly and shakes his head. "Oh lord, I bet they hate us. Weird thing is, I could totally sit here for a few more hours just talking to you."
"I know the feeling," Jack murmurs. Nonetheless, he waves for the server to bring them the check.
"Hmm, it's okay," Eric says, a soft smile forming on his face. "We can just pick up where we left off next time."
"Next time?" Jack asks hopefully.
"This is the best first date I have ever been on," Eric admits. "You bet your nice hockey butt that there's gonna be a second one."
Jack tips the poor waiter well over what any sane person would but it's partially an apology for making him wait on them for a little over three hours. He and Eric walk home hand in hand and Jack's not sure he can remember the last time his heart felt this light.
He walks Eric to his door and kisses him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The kiss is tender and it makes something inside Jack ache in the best of ways. Jack knows he does everything at 110% or not at all and he can already feel himself falling.
Somehow it feels right.
After, Eric grins up at him – those doe-eyes wide and bright and a flush across his cheeks – and pecks Jack sweetly on the lips one last time before bidding him goodnight and slipping into his apartment.
Jack texts his Shitty/Lardo group text as well as Tater to let them know that it went beyond well. Shitty sends back a lot of emojis and words in caps, Lardo expresses her excitement and happiness in her quiet way. Tater’s reply was endearingly sweet and supportive – much like Tater himself.
Jack goes to sleep that night smiling into his pillow.
He takes Eric skating at the Falconer’s practice rink for their second date. It’s just on the cusp of preseason so it’s not hard for Jack to secure some private ice time.
They go early so that they can catch lunch at Eric’s Café/Bakery later.
They talk as they skate around. Jack tries to convince Eric to show him some old figure moves but Eric only huffs and says, “You have to earn those.”
Eric’s a hell of a skater and he’s fast as hell too. Still Jack can’t see past the opportunity handed to him so finds a time where he can catch Eric off guard to gently “check” him into side of the rink.
Eric squeaks at first, in surprise and indignation, but then Jack is kissing him up against the glass and Eric smiles against Jack’s mouth, melting in to the kisses.
Later when they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder untying their skates – flushed from more than just skating – Eric clears his throat and has the look he had the other night at dinner, like he really wants to say something. So Jack waits.
“This might be weird, but you brought it up at dinner and it’s something I wanted to express to you even before we officially met,” Eric says.
Jack’s mind immediately races to all the bad things from his past – easily a google search away, Jack’s well aware – but he forces the panic down.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever fully be able to explain to you how much it meant to me when you came out in the NHL,” Eric says and he can’t seem to look at Jack but his voice is brimming with emotion. “To a closeted, bullied kid from Georgia who’s seen and experienced the homophobia in the sport and in everyday life…lord, Jack. I watched the entire press release and cried like a baby.”
Jack laces his fingers through Eric’s and squeezes his hand.
“You know, after I first met you right after you moved in, I knew you looked familiar,” Jack admits. “I’d already had one of your cookbooks at the time and seen you on the Food Network bake off so it only took a little bit to click. I’ll admit that I, uh, googled you a little.”
Eric laughs a watery laugh and says, “Oh don’t worry I’ve totally googled you, too.”
Jack smiles and runs a thumb over the soft skin of Eric’s wrist. “I watched your speech to the LGBT society at Emerson from last year. I may have cried a little bit, too.”
“You sweet, ridiculous boy,” Eric sighs and pulls Jack in for a kiss. It’s a little wet because it seems as if though Eric might be crying a bit, but God if it still isn’t a great kiss.
They go for lunch at Eric’s bakery where Jack gets to meet a few of Eric’s friends-slash-coworkers and they hold hands across the table.
Jack and Eric continue to see each other over the next few weeks and even with the start of preseason, Jack still finds ways to make sure he gets time with Eric a few times a week.
They’re definitely, officially dating now.
They’ve both talked about it and defined the relationship as Eric had said and Jack made sure Georgia and PR were in the know. It was less about the fact that Jack was dating a guy and more so about the fact that he was dating another minor celebrity and they were seen together publicly and quite a lot at that.
They also spend a lot of time together in private, lounging on Jack’s couch on a lazy Sunday afternoon or in Eric’s gourmet kitchen while he bakes and sings along to songs that Jack can’t hope to ever remember the names of.
They fall asleep together one night while watching a movie in Jack’s ginormous bed and when Jack wakes up to a pliant and sleep-warm Eric smiling at Jack in the soft morning light, well…Jack’s known for a while that Eric was gonna be it for him, but that pretty much solidifies it.
Their relationship progresses a little slower in other ways. Jack’s always been a little weird about sex, he knows this. It’s hard for him to look at someone and immediately think “I want to fuck them.” With Jack, it takes time and familiarity. But with Eric, he knows he’s ready.
With Kent, Camilla, and everyone else – it had always been the other person taking the lead. Eric doesn’t seem timid or afraid. He almost seems like he can sense the way Jack is about sex and is waiting for cues from Jack to make sure Jack’s ready. Sure there’d been some intense make outs and heavy petting, but Jack wants more.
Just the other night, they’d been making out on Jack’s couch, both in sweatpants that hid nothing, grinding and frotting against each other desperately.
And then the doorbell had rung, and their takeout was there.
Eric had made Jack get it, the evil minx, and they’d both been so shocked out of their systems by the situation as a whole that things cooled down for the rest of the night.
But when Eric invites him over for dinner at his place, Jack is certain that night is going to be The Night.
He wears his good boxer-briefs – the black, Calvin Klein ones he’d been gifted as an endorsement and slips two condoms (just in case) and a couple lube packets in his pockets. Maybe it’s presumptuous, but Shitty isn’t his best friend for nothing.
Dinner is purposefully romantic – Jack can tell. There’s red wine and salmon and Eric’s recessed the lights and lit a few candles. The looks Eric keeps giving Jack in the flickering candlelight are enough to make Jack shiver a bit and realize he was not being too forward thinking earlier at all.
After dinner Jack finds himself on Eric’s couch with a lapful of cute, southern baker and a pretty obvious erection. Eric’s panting and moaning into Jack’s mouth as he writhes on top of him and Jack feels like he may combust and just flat out die right there on Eric Bittle’s couch.
Eventually Eric sits back a little to look at Jack through heavy-lidded eyes.
“You should,” Eric clears his throat and takes a breath. “You could stay over tonight if you wanted.”
“Yes,” Jack says without hesitation, bucking up and grinding himself against Eric again. Eric gasps then looks like he’s trying to get his thoughts together.
“Um, what I’m saying is, I’d really like to ride you if you…if that’s something you want,” Eric says and Jack catalogs in the back of his head that Shitty would be proud of both of them for establishing explicit consent.
“That is definitely,” Jack pauses to latch onto Eric’s throat for a moment before continuing, “something I want.”
“Oh thank god,” Eric exhales. “You’re so hot I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for so long.”
“Me too,” Jack admits and holy shit, it’s finally happening.
“Think you can pick me up and carry me to my room?”
Jack forgoes an answer and instead grips Eric’s ass in his hands and standing to make his way down the hall and to Eric’s room.
He drops Eric on the bed and reaches into his pockets to pull out the condoms and lube.
“Uh, I know you probably have stuff but…just in case?” Jack says.
Eric shakes his head and whispers – more to himself than Jack – “This boy,” then pulls Jack down for a kiss.
Eventually they end up mostly naked, with Eric on top.
“I’ve gotta warn you,” Eric says, straddling Jack’s waist. “I can get pretty loud. Like, piss the neighbors off loud.”
Jack laughs and tries to block out the fateful memory from just a few months ago.
“To be fair, I can too,” Jack admits.
Eric looks surprised, but infinitely pleased by that.
It turns out, they both are very loud but no one would be able to blame Jack if they had Eric Bittle rolling his hips like that, riding him like his life depended on it. Eric’s a lot more vocal and talkative while Jack is mostly choked off noises with the occasional encouragement – but they are definitely very loud. So loud, they’re putting Mrs. Beverly to shame.
It’s not that they can’t be quiet, it’s that they don’t want to.
When Eric gets close, he stops talking and just starts outright moaning. Jack is more than determined to get him off first – so he does. Eric’s words pick back up after that, filthy things whispered into Jack’s ear and it’s not much longer before Jack’s following Eric over the edge with a shout.
They clean up sleepily and tuck into the covers together. They wake up the next morning and have slow, sleepy, giggly sex. It’s definitely a hell of a lot quieter than the whirlwind of the night before, but it’s still just as good.
After, Jack dozes back off with his head pillowed in Eric’s chest and thinks about how he wants this forever.
A few months later, Jack sees the “Apartment for Rent” sign hung in the apartment complex’s front windows. He smiles to himself, wondering who his new neighbor will be this time. He doubts they’ll be as great as the last tenant. Probably nowhere near as good at baking pies…or giving head.
Jack says as much to Eric, who laughs as he’s putting up more shelving in Jack’s kitchen to house his extensive library of family recipe books and cookbooks alike. When Eric had first moved in with Jack the priority had been to put away his beloved cooking and baking supplies and clothes first. The rest had slowly found its way from Eric’s apartment or boxes fitting in along nicely with Jack’s things.
The new tenants turn out to be a very nice newlywed couple.
Eric bakes them a “welcome to the complex” pie.
Jack’s also pretty sure it’s a “sorry in advance for the loud sex” pie.