Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

_/1\_
Given the fact that he had just become the first openly LGBTQ player in the NHL, Jack should have anticipated the amount of attention he would be getting, but truthfully nothing could have prepared him for the reaction his coming out received. It was one thing to lie in bed imagining all the possible ways people could respond to the news, and entirely another to actually read the comments and see the reactions firsthand. Without Bitty at his side, Jack doubted he would have been able to handle it.

Of course there were the negative responses, those Jack had taken extra care to prepare for, and to shelter Bitty from. All the scrutiny and insults and assumptions, Jack was used to those, but he never wanted Bitty to have to go through any of that. They had both agreed to take a break from social media the day or so after their coming out, hoping that things would settle somewhat in their absence. The boys and Lardo had promised to keep an eye on things, and Ransom had even prepped a spreadsheet on Excel to keep track of the general trends in reactions.

Initially Jack had planned on looking at the reactions on his own, and just showing Bitty the ones he thought he would like, to protect him from the hate that was bound to come their way, but Bitty had insisted that he could handle it, and this was something they should do together. That was something Jack was working on, trusting Bitty when he said he was fine, and in turn only telling Bitty he was fine when he really was.

When they finally did brave social media to see how people had taken the news, there was a lot they both realized they hadn't been prepared for. For starters, the sheer number of people who now knew about them was almost unfathomable. Given the amount of likes and comments on his Instagram post, Jack estimated that the number of people who knew about them couldn't all fit in an arena, and something about that was terrifying to him. His whole life had been measured in those types of crowds, and to think that a part of his life that only a handful of people had known about was now the topic of conversation for a group so large he couldn’t even visualize it was deeply unsettling. This was getting more coverage than his overdose ever had, the story of his and Bitty’s relationship was news beyond the hockey world, beyond Bitty’s blog and his internet following. Even people who didn’t care about hockey wanted to hear about ‘the first gay hockey player and his cute southern boyfriend’.

That was another thing Jack hadn’t anticipated; the complete erasure of his sexuality. Despite the fact that the statement released on all the official Falconers’ media sites stated that he was bisexual, all anyone could talk about was him being the first gay hockey player. It was a small detail, but it mattered to Jack, it had been a long journey for him to figure out his own identity, and now that he was finally sharing it with people, he felt like it was being ignored and altered to fit a narrative. He tried not to let it bother him, he knew most people weren’t doing it on purpose, but it felt too close to things after the overdose, the way every story and comment was based on personal opinion and speculation, and the person they were talking about wasn’t him at all.

_x_

Though the proverbial dust had yet to settle, Jack and Bitty were letting their lives go back to normal, Jack focusing on his personal training and photography in the few weeks he had before pre-season practices started, and Bitty with his new part-time position in a bakery downtown. Of course they couldn’t ignore that things had changed, they were being stopped on the street more often now, and not because of Jack’s career, like they used to. Now, it was teens thanking them for inspiring them to come out themselves, or hockey fans in the LGBTQ community who were so grateful that they weren’t alone anymore. It was rarely something negative, not in person, that seemed to be reserved for the internet, where every kind of vile insult and violent threat was hurled at them. It made Jack ache, less for himself than for Bitty. Bitty who was taking all of this in stride, who managed to stay so calm and collected and positive, who was keeping him sane, Jack owed Bitty so much.

Which was why, when George forwarded him an email from the PR department detailing all the people and organizations that wanted an interview with him, he hesitated rather than just telling her no thanks. Jack didn’t recognize most of the names on the list, but he knew there was a high probability that Bitty knew all of them, and probably followed most of them on Twitter, so he brought it up at dinner that night.

“Sweetheart that’s amazing! Who are they? Do you think you’ll agree to any of them? Does George want you to do any-“

“One question at a time, Bits.”

Thankfully, Jack had already pulled up the list on his phone, because there was no way he would have been able to remember any of the names and it didn’t look like Bitty would be able to hold in all his questions for much longer.

“Well there’s someone named Tyler Oakley, doesn’t he do videos like you? And Buzzfeed-aren’t they the ones who made that article about my first selfie? That was nice. And there’s that Ellen lady and a guy from…”

Jack trailed off as Bitty’s eyes grew almost comically wide, mouth opening and closing a few times before any words actually came out.

“That Ellen lady? As in Ms. DeGeneres herself?! Jack, you have to go on the Ellen show, she’s interviewed Beyoncé for crying out loud!”

“I’m not going to be able to say no to this one, am I?”

“Not if you still want pie on your cheat days.”

_X_

It was no secret that Jack hated interviews, anyone who knew anything about him knew that he avoided them like the plague. But after several meetings with George and the PR team, and some pep talks from Bitty, who was also going to be in the audience for the show, Jack had to admit that he wasn’t as much of an anxious mess as he predicted he would be about the whole thing. Thanks to Bitty’s encyclopedic knowledge of all things mainstream, Jack had gotten a pretty comprehensive education on the format of interviews on the show, and the type of questions he was likely to be asked. Two years into their relationship and Jack was still shocked by just how much Bitty was willing to do for him, all without him ever feeling like he was being coddled.

When the actual day of the taping arrived, Bitty seemed more nervous than Jack was, even though he was only going to be sitting in the audience. Oddly enough, Jack felt almost completely calm at the prospect of discussing his sexuality and relationship openly. For the first time, he would be facing the world as his whole self, no more leaving part of himself off the ice or away from the cameras.

Once he was through hair and makeup, which was still a bizarre experience for Jack, though Bitty seemed to love seeing him with his hair styled, he had to wait in a green room while Bitty sat in the audience to watch the show, and that’s when the nerves set in. As he had been advised to do by his boyfriend, Jack took a quick selfie and posted it to his Instagram with a caption letting people know he was about to do a big interview. They hadn’t really been posting much online since they had come out, but almost immediately Jack’s phone was flooded with alerts, and he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who were rushing to congratulate him and wish him luck in the interview. He did his best to respond to as many of the kind comments as he could, and when a crew member came to escort him to the stage, he felt a lot calmer. His hands still shook and his mouth was dry, but Jack felt like he could keep it all at bay, because there were people who wanted him to see him succeed, so he would.

They played that one Beyoncé song about butts for his entrance music, he remembered hearing it at kegsters and on Bitty's workout playlist, and Jack sought Bitty’s eyes out in the crowd, because he knew his boyfriend had something to do with this. Bitty had informed him that most people danced during their entrances, but all Jack could manage was an awkward shimmy and shuffle before he gave Ellen a hug and sat down. He shoved his hands under his legs so no one could see them shaking, and it took a few moments for his voice to even out when he started talking, but he hoped no one had noticed, especially not Ellen. She seemed friendly and genuinely interested in hearing what he had to say, and that put Jack somewhat at ease, and he was ready when the inevitable assumption happened.

“So you’re the first openly gay NHL player in history, how hard has that been to adjust to?”

“I’m actually not the first gay player. Well, I am in the broadest sense of the word, but as it says on the team’s website and twitter, I’m actually bisexual. I know a lot of people are calling me gay as an umbrella term, but given how much erasure there has already been in the media, I think it’s important to point out that I’m bisexual.”

It was a response that Jack had rehearsed every night while lying in bed since the day he accepted the interview, and thankfully it seemed to go over well. He didn't stutter or freeze up, and some of the tension that had been pulling at his muscles eased up. Ellen apologized and they moved on, talking about the response his announcement had received, and how he thought it would change his life both on and off the ice. Before long, the topic turned to his relationship, and the picture of him and Bitty kissing in front of the Stanley Cup flashed up on the screen to a chorus of ‘awws’ from the audience. Jack caught Bitty’s eye from the crowd, both of them flushing as Ellen started to talk.

“So you kept you relationship a secret from everyone for two years?”

“Just about, yeah. Our parents knew, but that was about it. And I’m very lucky that Eric was so patient with me, he went back into the closet for two years just so I could have my career, and I don’t know many people who would be willing to make sacrifices like that. I am so grateful to have him in my life.”

There was more cooing from the audience as Jack spoke, but he kept his eyes on Bitty, who was blushing and covering his face with his hands as Ellen announced that he was in the audience and a camera was turned on him. The audience cheered as Bitty raised a hand to wave shyly, still red as a beet, and in that moment Jack swore he fell just a little bit more in love.

To his surprise, Ellen actually had some clips from Bitty’s vlogs that were played on the screens, from videos before they were dating. Even after he had been given the go-ahead to watch Bitty’s videos, Jack hadn’t gone back too far, it felt like too much of an invasion of his privacy, considering Bitty had originally made those videos thinking that no one from Samwell would ever see them. Jack smiled at the clips of younger Bitty, his hair floppy and his frame so much smaller. They played clips from when he had just started at Samwell, and then some from when he and Jack had finally started spending time together, and it nearly took Jack’s breath away to see how even then, when he had treated him so coldly, Bitty had cared so much for him.

When the interview finally came to an end, Jack walked off the stage to cheers from the audience and waited for Bitty to join him as he collected the gifts Ellen was sending home with them, a beautiful bright blue stand mixer for Bitty and a new camera for Jack. Once they were finally out of the studio and in the car, Bitty exploded with all the excitement he had kept contained for the duration of the shoot.

“Sweetheart you were amazing! And you even managed to dance a little at the beginning, I’m so proud of you. I can’t believe Ellen knows who I am! And she showed some of my videos. God, I can’t believe millions of people just got to see me pining over you! And can you believe that she gave us gifts? I mean, I know she gives people things when they come on the show, it’s like, her thing, but can you believe it?”

Jack let the sound of Bitty’s voice wash over him, easing the rest of the tension from his body and settling the nerves in his stomach as he drove them back to the hotel they were staying in, happy the interview was over but also proud that he had gotten through it. Soon Bitty’s ramblings turned to the topic of what they were going to do with the rest of their day in LA, since they didn’t fly back to Providence until the next morning, and Jack was happy to contribute to that conversation, since he was more than excited to try out his new camera.

_X_

When the interview aired, the whole group chat got on Skype to watch it together, and the chirping, as predicted, was merciless, though Jack suspected that they were doing it more to distract him from his own anxiety than to tease him. Shitty cried at least four separate times, mumbling things like ‘what a fucking beaut’ and ‘so damn proud of you two’. The whole group collectively screamed at the song choice for Jack’s entrance on the show, though Ransom and Shitty were both critical of his dancing.

“You can’t call that dancing, bro.”

“Yeah, that was like, half of a dance move.”

By the next day, his appearance on the show was being talked about on pretty much every social media site Jack knew of, and probably a few he didn’t. People were praising him for speaking up about the general erasure of his bisexuality, and that made Jack feel like he had accomplished something. If he could make people feel like they were being represented, like he had their backs, then he had achieved more than he ever thought he could when he was young and scared and looking for someone like him in the media.
And of course it took less than a full day for the internet to go wild over his ‘dancing’ and the choice of song for his entrance, and he was sent the link to a Buzzfeed article about his butt by almost everyone he knew within a few hours. At this point it wasn’t really a surprise anymore, and it made Bitty smile, which was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

_/2\_

Between Jack’s training and Bitty’s job at the bakery, the summer flew by, and before either of them really had the time to adjust to the new attention they were receiving, hockey season was starting. The idea of coming back to team practices after his coming out had terrified Jack, but he knew he had done the right thing. He had told the team himself the night they won, in the dressing room after the game while they were all still on an adrenaline high, so it wasn’t as if they had all found out from some press release. And they had all had the summer to go away and process everything, and what Jack had found out was just how much he had been missing out on by hiding a part of himself.

It wasn't that Jack hadn't been aware that he was hiding, he had been acutely aware of just how careful he had to be to keep his private life private, it was that he hadn't realized just how much he had been hiding. In an attempt to keep his relationship a secret, he hadn't let himself get close to many of the other players, and he had reverted back to what he knew Shitty would call his ‘hockey robot mode’. Jack had always hated that phrase, but he knew that was how he came across most of the time, when he did his best to leave everything outside of the rink so he could do his job without feeling like he was being split in two. But now he wasn’t worried about the separate parts of himself, he could just be Jack, the hockey player who had a penchant for history and quite possibly the best boyfriend in the whole world.

It hadn’t escaped Jack’s notice that a few of the guys on the team had avoided him since his coming out, he had expected that from the beginning, it was no secret that homophobia ran deep in the NHL. Truthfully, Jack was more surprised with the number of his teammates that seemed supportive and happy for him. Most of the more senior members of the team had contacted him over the summer to let him know they had his back, and that they were happy for him, and it had made the prospect of coming back to the team somewhat less intimidating. But Jack knew better than to think that having support on his team meant that he had support from the league, or from the fans. Bitty had told him to have more faith in people, but Jack knew the hockey world, and he knew what he would be facing his first game back. The only real comfort he found was in knowing that he would be the one to take the brunt of the negative attention on the ice, and Bitty wouldn’t have to suffer through it. He could grin and bear it, pretend that nothing was wrong, but Jack didn’t know if he could handle that kind of hostility being directed at Bitty.

_X_

It did not take long for Bitty to discover that having a boyfriend in the NHL was a lot more difficult when people knew they were dating. The hate comments and the threats of death and things far more graphic had started coming in almost immediately after the news had broken, and Bitty had not been as prepared as he had thought he was. The negativity didn’t stay contained in the hockey world either, he was finding comments on his videos, and messages on Twitter from people who were not afraid to let him know what they thought of him.

It wasn’t as if he was hiding this from Jack, it would have been pointless to try, given how much of the hate was directed at both of them, but he certainly hadn’t been letting Jack know how much it was affecting him. All the comments and the messages, they reminded Bitty too much of high school, of everything he had run away from when he moved to Samwell. The threats and the names were things he had heard before, they made him think of the cold metal of lockers pressing into his back, and the utter darkness of the supply closet he had spent a night in all those years ago. He didn’t ever want to be back there, scared and powerless and targeted by people who were fueled by hate, but this was Jack’s career on the line, and for Jack he would endure anything.

There had been a moment where Bitty had honestly considered not coming to the first game of the season, the thought of being in the stands and not knowing which of the fans around him supported them and which didn’t had been a terrifying one, but he knew it was a fraction of the fear that Jack would be facing when he skated out into the rink. Thankfully, Bitty’s boss at the bakery had been more than understanding when she had heard the news, and had offered to give him nights and mornings after off for all of the Falconers’ home games. Chloe was a stern woman, with callused hands and arms that could likely break a man in half, but she was one of the kindest souls Bitty had ever met, and something about her made him think of Madison. The day of the game, as he had been finishing up his shift, Chloe had pulled him aside and placed her warm hands on his shoulders, her eyes uncharacteristically soft. “If anyone gives you any trouble tonight, you send them my way, you hear? And you be sure to bring your boy by tomorrow morning, I’ll have some treats set aside for the both of you, I’m guessing you’ll need it.”

Bitty left the shop feeling a little lighter, and carrying a bag of warm croissants as a reminder that not everyone was against them.

_X_

Jack was dying. That was the only explanation for the pounding in his head and the invisible force that was gripping his lungs, keeping both air and sound just out of reach. No matter how many times his anxiety got like this, Jack always had those few bone chilling moments where he was sure this time was different, that this time he really was dying and nothing would ever make this feeling go away. He had felt this building up all day, from the moment he kissed Bitty goodbye and left the warmth of their apartment it had been simmering under his skin, keeping his stomach twisted up in knots. When he had thrown up as soon as he got to the rink, Jack had hoped that would be the end of it, but of course nothing was ever that simple for him, and it had only gotten worse. With every teammate that showed up, Jack closed up more, waiting for someone to snap, to tell him that he had ruined the team’s reputation, that he didn’t deserve to play. By the time that half the team had made it to the dressing room, Jack couldn’t take it anymore, and he barely made it to the hallway outside the trainer’s room before his legs failed him and he was on the floor, head on his knees and hands in his hair as he fought for breath.

“Zimbonni, you must breathe. You can’t play game if you can’t breathe.”

Jack didn’t think he had ever heard Tater sound quite this gentle, and he would have laughed if he wasn’t too busy crying. Before he even had the chance to lift his head, Tater was sitting next to him, leaving enough space between them that he didn’t feel crowded, and began counting quietly, in for seven, out for eleven, just like Jack’s counselor had always told him to. After a few minutes, Jack had his breathing under control enough to look up at Tater, a question already on his lips.

“Who do you know who has anxiety?”

“My sister.”

His voice was still quiet, but this time it held something more, a sadness and a love that Jack hadn’t thought him capable of. He was beginning to realize just how much he didn’t know about his teammates.

“But this not about me, this about Zimbonni playing good game! You must show people you are not afraid, and you are same Zimbonni who won cup!”

Jack nodded, listening to the low rumble of Tater’s voice as he willed his body to cooperate enough for him to stand. It took time, and some help from Tater, but eventually Jack got back on his feet, and onto the ice for warmup. He could still feel the fear crawling under his skin, and everything felt too loud and too bright, but he had a lot of experience blocking things out in favour of the game. He just hoped it would be enough this time.

All too soon, they were dressed and waiting in the tunnel to be introduced, and Jack’s hands were shaking so badly he was worried he was going to drop his stick. As if he had been waiting for this, Tater reached a hand out and let it rest on Jack’s shoulder, the weight of it grounding him.

“Your boy, you love him, yes?”

Jack nodded.

“And he likes watching you play, yes?”

Another nod.

“Then you play for him. He is only one that matters, the rest are nothing.”

As much as Jack wanted to thank Tater, to let him know how much he appreciated what he was doing, all he could manage was another nod as the lights and music started up, and their names were being called, hard to hear over the roar of the crowd. When his name was called, Jack couldn’t tell if the crowd was louder because of the boos, or the people trying to drown them out, but he did his best to push that thought from his mind and focus on the task at hand.

As soon as the puck was dropped, it became clear that this wasn’t any normal game. Checks were coming at Jack more than they had in the past two seasons combined, and some of them when he didn’t even have the puck. And of course, the refs seemed to be turning a blind eye, as did some of his own teammates. Jack might have given up before the first period was even over had it not been for Tater and Poots and Marty, who were checking the offending members of the opposing team and yelling at the refs at every available opportunity.

It was hard to focus on the game when it felt like he was fighting for his life, but Jack still managed an assist with thirty seconds left in the first period, setting the Falconers’ up one-nothing for the start of the second. It was shortly after that assist, as he was skating off for first intermission, that things escalated past checks.

“Out of the way, faggot.”

It was as much of a shock to Jack as it must have been to everyone else that he just kept skating as if nothing had happened. He kept moving until he made it to the dressing room, went straight to his spot without a word or a glance to anyone and grabbed his phone. He knew what he had just experienced must only be a taste of what Bitty was facing in the stands.

I’m so sorry, I should have told you to stay home tonight. Are you okay?

_X_

The whole ‘sticks and stones’ mantra was bullshit, and this game was the final proof for Bitty. He would have much rather been on the ice with Jack, taking checks and getting slammed into the boards, than have to sit alone in the stands, pretending that he couldn’t hear the whispering going on around him. The whole first period had been an exercise in restraint, keeping himself from either running out of the arena or bursting into tears. As it was, Bitty was sure there would be little crescent shaped indents in his palms for days from where his nails dug into the skin as he clenched his hands into fists.

To make matters worse, Jack was out there, getting hit and shoved and knocked down by seemingly every player on the opposing team, and all Bitty could do was sit and watch while people around him murmured about ‘the kid who turned Bad Bob’s son gay’ and ‘fags ruining hockey’. His body was aching in sympathy and he flinched every time someone collided with Jack, but still the refs and the coaches from the opposing team did nothing, and Bitty had never felt more enraged. It was a small consolation to see that he wasn’t the only one to feel that way, there were some rumblings from the crowd every time Jack got hit, and a girl a few rows in front of Bitty had even taken to jumping up and cussing out the ref every time. Bitty wished he could be brave like her and make a stand, but fear and anger had him frozen to his seat. He sat, unmoving until Jack got slammed into the boards and crumpled onto the ice in a heap.

He was on his feet in a second, and even through the tears filling his eyes, Bitty could see that Jack wasn’t getting up. The player who had hit him had been just as tall as Jack, and twice as wide, and he had been going full tilt when they made contact. This time, mainly due to the outrage from the crowd, the refs finally did something, and the player was suspended from the rest of the game, but it was too little too late. Bitty knew the crowd would be looking at him to see his reaction, and it took all of his strength to keep calm as he stood and left the arena, feeling the weight of a thousand eyes on his back.

_X_

Jack should have been expecting this, he really should have been. From the way the other team had been coming after him all game, he should have figured one of them would finally get a good shot in, but it had still felt like it had come out of nowhere when he felt himself go flying into the boards and slump to the ground. The first thing he felt was a familiar tightness in his lungs, and it took Jack a moment to realize that this wasn’t his anxiety again, this was his ribs screaming in protest at the abuse they had faced. By the time a medic had come over to assist him on his way off the ice, Jack finally had the presence of mind to look for Bitty in the crowd, and panic washed over him, overshadowing the pain for a moment, as he looked to where Bitty’s seat was and found it empty.

As he was guided off the ice, the medic supporting him on one side and Tater on the other, Jack tried not to let his mind run wild with all the possible explanations, he did his best to focus on his breathing instead like Tater was telling him to, but every deep breath left him wincing and clutching his side in way that had the medic and his teammate exchanging worried looks. They got him to the trainer’s room and set him on the bench there, Tater running back out to the game with a murmured apology as the medic and trainer started carefully removing his gear. As Tater left the room, George entered it, and Jack finally let himself relax as he saw that she had Bitty in tow. Bitty, whose face was streaked with tears as he came hurtling forward only to stop himself just before Jack, giving the professionals some space to work. Having none of it, Jack reached for Bitty, needing him close, needing to know that amidst all of this they were alright.

Bitty immediately came closer, clutching Jack’s hand in both of his own. “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry. You went down so fast and you didn’t get right back up and I was so worried…”

He trailed off, pressing soft kisses into the back of Jack’s hand, treating it as gently as if it was the part of him that had taken the brunt of the hit, rather than his ribs. Jack couldn’t help but smile at the display of tenderness, and it felt like his first smile all day, something only Bitty could give him.

“Bits, I’m fine.” That was a lie, and both of them knew it, but Jack pushed through, he had more important things to talk about.

“I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have been here tonight. You shouldn’t have had to watch this, and I can only imagine what it was like sitting up there alone. I’m so sorry-“

Bitty stopped him with a raised hand, and Jack could have laughed at the resemblance he bore to Suzanne Bittle in that moment.

“Jack, I love you, but you can be mighty stupid sometimes. Of course I should have been here. Sure, it felt terrible to see you treated like that, but it would have felt ten times worse to have watched it happen from home, or to hear about it after. I will always be here for you, we go through things like this together.”

Not for the first time, Jack was immensely grateful for the understanding and easy-going nature of the team’s staff, as the trainer and medic and George worked and conversed amongst themselves, doing their best to ignore the heartfelt moment happening beside them. Once Jack was bandaged, and with express instructions given to both him and Bitty to have him see a doctor for a more professional opinion on the state of his ribs, they were finally left alone in favour of the game still happening out in the rink.

Finally, Jack pulled Bitty close, mindful of his bandaged sides, and wrapped his arms around him. “Bits I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better than this.”

“You hush up, Mr. Zimmermann. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and none of this changes that. You are worth it.”

Before Jack had time to argue, Bitty was leaning up to kiss him soundly, his hands coming to rest on Jack’s shoulders. Jack let himself melt into it, let himself think that everything was okay, just for a moment. Because as long as he had Bitty in his arms kissing him like that, things couldn’t be so bad. He knew this wasn’t over, they still had plenty to talk through, and they would have to figure out how to get through the rest of the season like this, but for the moment Jack just let himself feel safe, because with Bitty there was no other way to feel.

Chapter Text

_/3\_

All in all, Jack considered himself lucky, though he certainly didn’t feel that way. After getting a second opinion from a doctor, he had been sent home with a diagnosis of severely bruised ribs and some whiplash, the latter which he hadn’t even noticed until he was off the ice. Bitty, of course, had immediately started fussing over him before they even reached the apartment, insisting on carrying all of his bags and opening doors for him like a proper Southern gentleman. Given the state of both his physical health and his safety, the Falconers’ management had made the decision to keep Jack off the ice for the next two games, and though he knew it was for the best, Jack couldn’t help but feel that he was being punished for other people’s actions.

Once he had Jack settled in the living room with more pillows and blankets than one person could possibly need, Bitty set to work in the kitchen. On the drive home he had planned out a list of meals he could cook in advance for the days he was working so Jack wouldn’t have to fend for himself, no matter how many times Jack insisted that he could, in fact, survive on his own. Although he knew this was Bitty’s way of trying to make everything better, Jack would have been fine with Bitty just curling up on the couch with him instead. As it was, while he waited for the painkillers to kick in so he could sleep, Jack killed time on his phone. He could have laughed at how much Bitty had influenced his habits as he browsed through Instagram and Twitter, shocked at how much coverage his untimely exit from the game was already getting.

As was expected, there was a fair number of people who shared the opinion that the opposing team had done the right thing in taking him out, doing a service to the league as a whole, but Jack was surprised to find that there was an even larger number of people who were outraged at the way he had been treated. On top of the frankly startling number of texts in the group chat, (most of which were Shitty screaming about the ‘heteronormative, homophobic NHL fuckwads') Jack was also receiving notifications from people tweeting him or tagging him on Instagram showing their support. As much as Jack had progressed when it came to social media, he still found it overwhelming at times, so he did what he often found himself doing, and went to Bitty.

It took more wincing and careful maneuvering than he would have cared to admit, but Jack eventually got up from the couch and made his way into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of his boyfriend. Bitty stood in front of the stove, which had a pot on all four burners, with a spoon in each hand and a pair of oven mitts tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He looked very much like a general in war, watching over the food with a sharp eye, and Jack had to take a moment just to enjoy the sight of Bitty totally in his element.

“God, I love you.”

“Lord, Jack! I’ll never understand how someone as large as you can be so quiet, you damn near gave me a heart attack.”

Bitty’s face was beet red when he turned around, and Jack could guess that it wasn’t just from being startled.

“And I love you too. But you’re supposed to be resting, what are you doing up?”

Making his way over to Bitty, Jack dropped a kiss onto his forehead before carefully leaning himself against the counter and holding out his phone to Bitty. “You’re better with all of this stuff than I am. There’s just too much of it for me to figure it out.”

As this was by no means a new occurrence, Bitty simply placed one of the spoons on the counter and accepted the phone, scrolling and tapping for a moment, brow furrowed. Once it became clear that he might be at this for a while, Jack tugged Bitty towards him, only somewhat delighted by how willing his boyfriend was to let himself be manhandled. Once he had them comfortably situated with Bitty gently resting with his back against his chest, Jack leaned down to look over his shoulder, watching as Bitty sorted through all the notifications and made what had been a nonsensical mess to Jack into a linear progression of events.

Happy to just watch as Bitty worked his magic, Jack circled his arms around his boyfriend and rested his chin on top of Bitty’s head, feeling comfortably lethargic now that the painkillers were kicking in. He knew that it wouldn’t be long before he had to face the real world again, had to go back to disapproving teammates and hostile opponents and rabid fans, but for now all Jack cared about existed within this apartment. For just a while longer Jack could pretend all that mattered was the way Bitty was scrunching his nose as he focused on the screen, and how he had absentmindedly placed the other spoon on the counter so he could rest his hand on top of where Jack’s rested around his middle. It still seemed almost unbelievable to Jack, even after two years, that just looking at Bitty could make everything else fade into the background, that this boy had somehow become the thing he was always pulled back to, when he had spent so much of his life feeling lost.

“Well it looks like the one good thing that came out of this whole mess is that people have kind of been forced to admit that the NHL has a problem. Most of the notifications you’re getting are people linking you to articles being written about it, or showing their support. This is probably the best outcome we could have hoped for.”

Jack nodded, eyes following the screen as he listened to Bitty, perpetually impressed with how effortlessly he navigated the world of social media. Though he moved at a much faster pace than Jack could, he still noticed when Bitty clicked on a link to an article that bore a picture of him sitting in the audience, Bitty’s normally warm face drawn and his mouth pressed in a tight line. Before Bitty could click away, Jack pointed at the screen. “Hey wait, what’s this one?”

Before Bitty had a chance to say anything, Jack had reached out to scroll down on the screen, reading the title of the article with a small smile. Jack Zimmermann’s boyfriend shows solidarity in stands, sticks it to the haters. It was from some second rate sports gossip website, but Jack had to give them credit for taking the angle no one else had. A brief scan through the article told him that it wasn’t a particularly ground breaking piece of journalism, but it gave Bitty the credit no one else was giving him. There were a few other pictures included in the article, mainly just the series of unimpressed faces Bitty had made throughout the game, but the one that caught Jack’s attention was nearly at the end of the article, and it made his heart ache and his arms tighten around his boyfriend. It must have been taken just after he got hit, judging by the horrified look on Bitty’s face, and the way he had been half out of his seat already, one hand flying to his mouth. Jack had been so focused on the effect that everything in the stands had been having on Bitty, he hadn’t even begun to think of how it must have felt to watch the disaster that had been occurring on the ice. It reminded him a little too vividly of how he had felt watching helplessly as Bitty had gone crashing onto the ice his freshman year.

“I’m sorry you had to watch that, Bits. I sho-“

“Mr. Zimmermann, would you stop apologizing!” Bitty interrupted, smacking the back of Jack’s hand playfully before turning in his arms to kiss Jack soundly. “You have nothing to apologize for, you went out there and did your job, it’s not your fault that guy decided to be an asshole. And I hope he gets more than a one game suspension.”

“One step at a time, Bits. We’ll get them to admit that this wasn’t just a rough game first, because you know that’s what people are gonna try to say. Then we’ll worry about pointing fingers.” Jack knew that without Bitty, if he had ever come out at all, he wouldn’t have done anything about this, he would have pretended that nothing was wrong and kept going until he couldn’t face it anymore. But with Bitty at his side, he felt motivated, because he had something to fight for. None of these close-minded assholes were going to get in the way of the best thing that had ever happened to him, and if Jack had to single-handedly dismantle the prejudices of the NHL so he and Bitty could be together in peace, then he would do it.

It wasn’t much longer before the effects of the painkillers finally won out and Jack finally agreed to go to bed, on the condition that Bitty come to tuck him in. He couldn’t resist tugging Bitty down onto the bed with him, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and only letting go when Bitty insisted that all of his hard work would be ruined if he stayed and let the food burn on the stove. He didn’t return to the bed for a few hours, or at least that’s what Jack assumed when he woke up to find Bitty crawling into bed, hair damp from a shower and his body warm in a way that soothed whatever ache still lingered in Jack’s ribs.

They had plans to go to the bakery to see Chloe in the morning, as Bitty had promised, and Jack was sure that it wouldn’t be long before he was sick of staying in the apartment while he waited to be allowed to play again, but for now he was content. Bitty was warm against him, clutching one of Jack’s hands to his chest like it was Señor Bun, and he smelled of soap and a hint of cinnamon, which gave Jack hope that there would be a plate of his favourite cinnamon oatmeal cookies waiting for him in the morning. As he felt sleep pulling him back under, Jack was reassured by the knowledge that no matter what happened on the ice, or in his career, he would have this, the love of his life next to him through it all. Assuming by his steady breathing that Bitty was already asleep, Jack brushed his lips against the back of his neck as he murmured, barely a whisper, what he had been thinking since he had stopped to watch Bitty in the kitchen earlier. “I’m gonna marry you some day.”

Just as he was drifting off himself he heard Bitty’s voice, almost as quiet as his own had been, voice heavy with sleep. “Not if I marry you first.”

Chapter Text

_/4\_

People often forgot that hockey isn’t just a game, it’s a business, with investors and consumers and employers. Regardless of how talented or good or kind a player was, if they didn’t prove to be a financial asset, they often didn’t make it very far. Georgia Martin was painfully aware of this fact, and had seen too many good players have their dreams dashed because they weren’t ‘marketable’. She’d been a player herself, she knew what it was like to be under the pressure of not only having to play well, but to also be a product for public consumption. While social media had been good for the business of hockey, sometimes it hurt more than it helped, because it made the player’s personal lives a part of the culture of the game, something else for people to buy into.

Thankfully, when Georgia had been playing social media wasn’t big enough to affect her career or her private life, but now as assistant GM to the Falconers, she saw just how easily a player’s online presence could make or break them. And though it wasn’t really part of her job description, and they had a PR team to handle these sort of things, Georgia had taken up the responsibility of helping her players keep a healthy balance of privacy and publicity while still keeping in the fans’ favour. So when Jack had come to her with the intention of coming out, she had not only been willing to help, but also better equipped to deal with the situation than anyone else on the team’s payroll. Thanks to her meetings with Jack and the PR team, the actual coming out had gone rather smoothly. It was the aftermath that no one had anticipated.

Jack had barely hit the ice after being taken down before Georgia was up and out of her office where she had been watching the live feed, heading downstairs to the rink and speaking with game officials before heading back towards the dressing room, where she had been met by Jack’s boyfriend, who looked about as frazzled as she felt. Thankfully, Georgia had years of practice keeping calm in moments of chaos, and she was able to pull Eric back together before she let him see Jack. While the two of them were wrapped up in what seemed to be a heartwarming moment, Georgia busied herself with the business side of things, talking to the coaches and officials, making sure the player responsible was ejected from the game and scheduled for a disciplinary hearing, and drafting a statement for the official Falconers’ website about Jack’s injury.

Georgia was good at her job, everyone knew that, including her, but at that moment she couldn’t help but feel that she had failed Jack somehow. If she had done something different, sensitivity training for the team or a different approach to the press release, maybe this could have been avoided. It wasn’t a productive train of thought for the moment, but it kept her from pursuing the even less productive option of rushing out onto the ice and beating the shit out of the offending player herself, so she let herself off easy this once.

Normally, the job stayed at the rink and Georgia was able to go home and relax, but not this night. There was no way that she was going to rest until things had been resolved, or at least until solutions had been put into place. She started off easy, making sure the league and counsel were handling the case against Brad, the player who had attacked Jack, and that he was held responsible for his actions not just as a foul in the game, but as a hate crime. The tougher parts came next, helping the PR team keep a balance between not rustling too many feathers and still supporting Jack in their public statements. There was only so much she could do in her official capacity, so if an anonymous twitter account started the hashtag #justiceforjack and it trended nationally within a day, Georgia certainly didn’t know anything about it.

The hardest, and likely most important step, was to get the team all on the same page. It was clear that while most of the players were either in full support of Jack or indifferent on the matter, there were a few who weren’t on board. The day after the game, while Jack was at home, no doubt being fed things that would make their nutritionist cry and convalescing under the watchful eye of Eric, Georgia called a team meeting.

“When you all joined this team, you agreed to leave your personal issues outside the rink and play as a team, and last night, I didn’t see that. Don’t get me wrong, you played a good game and you won, but you let one of your teammates, one of your brothers, suffer out there. This is a team sport, this is not every man for himself, or somewhere where you can just mind your own business and get by. Now, I don’t care how you felt before, but from now on, when you are on the ice, you are all one hundred percent accepting of and committed to each other. Because if you want to win another cup, that’s what it is going to take. And if I hear that any of you have anything less than friendly to say to Jack when he returns, you’ll find yourself in my office faster than you can skate.”

There wasn’t any argument from the team after that, and Georgia finally let herself go home and sleep. Anything else that needed to be done could be done later, or at least that’s what her girlfriend told her when she tried to run back to the office in the morning.

_X_

Waking up in a cold sweat after a nightmare was not a new thing for Jack, but that didn’t make it any easier. The past few nights had all turned out the same, Jack dreamt of the game, but instead of him being the one checked into the boards and crumpling on the ice, it was Bitty. It was like Bitty’s freshman year all over again, but so much worse. Jack could hear the rattle of the glass, the sickening thud as Bitty hit the ice, and as much as he tried to shout or skate over to him, he was frozen in place and silent, forced to watch.
The first time it had happened Jack had woken up with tears in his eyes and tried to hide it from Bitty, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out what was wrong. This time, Jack didn’t feel ashamed when he reached for Bitty and pulled him against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of cinnamon and the almond milk soap Bitty always bought at the farmers’ market. It was little details like that that grounded him, the feeling of Bitty relaxing against his body, the way his breath tickled against Jack’s neck.

“The dream again?”

Bitty sounded much too alert to have been woken up by Jack manhandling him, so he had to assume that Bitty had been witness to the dream and had just been waiting for Jack to wake up. Jack did his best not to feel ashamed by that, and this time he almost succeeded. “Did I talk this time? I’m sorry if I woke you up.” A glance at the clock told Jack it was just past eight in the morning, and given that he didn’t have a game and Bitty didn’t have work, they had planned to sleep in much later than this.

“You were mumbling my name. It would have been sweet if you hadn’t sounded so scared.”

“I just couldn’t stop it from happening. I saw you get hit and I couldn’t warn you and I couldn’t get to you and I just…” Jack trailed off when he felt his throat tighten with the threat of tears, and settled for pulling Bitty closer so he could bury his face in his boyfriend’s hair.

“Jack, honey, it was just a dream. I’m here, I’m fine. And when we’ve both had a few cups of coffee we’re going to have a talk about this fear you have of not being able to protect me.”

There was no accusation in his voice, so Jack just nodded, content to stay like this for a little while longer, the warmth of Bitty against him chasing away the last of the chills his nightmare had left him with.

Eventually they made it out of bed, neither of them bothering to dress beyond throwing on a shirt over their boxers before they made their way to the kitchen. As promised, once they were both appropriately caffeinated, they talked about Jack’s dream, and the concerns he had that he hadn’t been sharing with Bitty. They went over things they both already knew but maybe needed to hear again; that Bitty didn’t expect Jack to protect him and that Jack knew Bitty could take care of himself, that their relationship was a partnership where they viewed each other as equals and went through things together, and they couldn’t expect things to work out if they didn’t share concerns with each other. It wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation Jack wanted to be having before nine am on a Sunday morning while his ribs felt like they had been hit by a truck, but he had to admit that they both left it feeling calmer.

As much as Jack knew he should be resting, the thought of sitting around and waiting to be allowed to play again made his skin itch, and he knew that as much as Bitty said that hockey had only ever been a hobby for him, he still missed it, so Jack devised a plan. It only took a few texts to Georgia to confirm that no one was using the ice that morning, and it was theirs to use. Not for the first time, Jack was struck with the thought of just how lucky he was to have George on his side, and he made a mental note to invite her over for dinner sometime soon. But first, Jack had a boyfriend to cajole into letting him skate this soon after an injury.

“Jack, absolutely not! Resting for a day is not going to kill you sweetheart, take it easy, you know what the doctor said.”

“Bits, I’m not suggesting we go out there and play a game of shinny, I just want a chance to skate with you again. It’s been too long. I miss it.”

Jack wasn’t playing fair and he knew it, but he needed to get out of his head for a few hours, and nothing did that better than skating with Bitty.

“You play dirty, Mr. Zimmermann. Fine, but this isn’t going to be like checking practices, just skating, if you try anything too strenuous I’m dragging you off the ice myself.”

_X_

Thankfully the arena was mainly empty, given the early hour, and Jack couldn’t help but remember mornings much earlier than this spent with Bitty in a rink smaller and much more familiar, and he couldn’t resist slipping an arm around Bitty’s waist as they stepped out onto the ice together. He couldn’t believe how much had changed since the last time it had just been the two of them in a rink together. Their day with the cup had been the last time they had skated together, but they had been surrounded by friends and family. They hadn’t been on the ice alone together since before Jack’s graduation, and Jack nearly had to fight back tears at the thought of how far they had come.

Truthfully, Jack really had intended to just skate, and keep his promise of taking it easy, but he had forgotten just how fast Bitty was, and soon he found himself chasing his boyfriend around the rink. For the first few minutes it was just a casual game of cat and mouse, until Bitty turned on a dime, skating backwards at a breakneck pace just inches away from Jack, a smirk on his flushed face and one eyebrow raised. That was all it took for Jack to rush forward, arms reaching for Bitty as soon as he was within distance. Holding Bitty against his chest, Jack skated towards the boards, just as he had during checking practices, but as they came closer he turned so it was his back that hit the boards, Bitty safely cradled against his chest.

For a few breathless moments Jack just stared down at Bitty, before he couldn’t resist anymore and leaned down to close the distance between them, his lips brushing against Bitty’s for a moment.

“I would consider this a strenuous activity, Mr Zimmermann.”

It would have been a good chirp if Bitty hadn’t sounded so dazed and breathless. As it was, it only made Jack lean down and kiss him again, hands resting warm and sure on his waist. It was everything Jack hadn’t known he had wanted back in Faber, and it made something deep inside him settle to know that this was his life now. Regardless of how things were on the ice, of how many players were out for his blood or how many fans wanted him dead for ‘ruining hockey’, he had the one thing he never thought he would get, and that was more important than anything the league could throw at him.

_X_

It wasn’t until they were back at home, Jack lying on the couch with his head in Bitty’s lap and an icepack on his ribs, that either of them caught wind of the online revolution that was happening. Of course it was Bitty that discovered it first, because as technologically savvy as Jack had become, he still didn’t venture onto social media unless he really needed to.

“Sweetheart, have you seen this?”

“Seen what?”

“This!”

Jack opened his eyes to find Bitty’s phone being waved in front of his face, opened to twitter, which was nothing unusual. It took a moment for him to realize what he was looking at; thousands of tweets all with the hashtag #justiceforjack. His breath caught in his throat as he started to read through them, countless messages of thanks and solidarity and support. A petition had even been created, addressed to the NHL board of directors, demanding a change in the way they dealt with homophobia in the league. There was already a shocking number of signatures on it, and Jack didn’t hesitate before pulling out his own phone and tweeting a link to the petition.

To see so many people standing with him, outraged for him, gave Jack a hope that he hadn’t had before, that maybe something could be done about the flaws in the league, maybe times were changing. These people were brave enough to stand up for Jack, and the least he could do was show the same courage, so with more than a little help from Bitty, Jack posted on his Instagram for the first time since their coming out.

It was a simple enough picture, not unlike ones Jack had posted before, him standing in his kitchen shirtless with a protein shake in hand as he often did after a workout. The main difference was the bandage wrapping around his ribs, and the dark purple and red bruising peeking out from under it. In the picture Jack was looking away from the camera, eyes focused on the view out the kitchen window, and it likely would have been a beautiful picture, had it not been for the harsh reality it contained.

The caption took even longer than the picture to decide on, and like he so often did, Jack turned to his boyfriend for help, and like always, Bitty knew exactly what to say.

This is what hatred looks like. It can leave bruises and scars, it can damage a person beyond just the emotional, and it has no place on the ice. Things need to change. #justiceforjack

Chapter Text

_/5\_

One thing Jack was learning was that some parts of the internet were more accepting than others. Obviously he knew he couldn’t go to the TSN website and hope to find a glowing article about the differences he was making as the first out player, but he was learning that there were places he could look to see the good things that were coming out of this whole ordeal. Given that he had been banned from working out the first few days of his week off, Jack had spent an embarrassing amount of time on the internet, and with Bitty’s help he had been able to look through all of the kind messages and articles and videos that were being sent to them. Now Jack knew that places like his Instagram and Bitty’s blog were mainly filled with positivity, and it made the idea of sharing their life together with the internet a little less terrifying.

At first, Jack hadn’t known how to approach his online presence now that he wasn’t hiding such a large part of himself. Should he continue his usual posting habits of workout pictures and hockey posts, or was it okay to start including glimpses of what his life was like with Bitty? But after seeing what kind of reaction his latest post about his injury was getting, Jack was beginning to get an idea of what people wanted. After the flood of people expressing their concern and support, the next most common type of comment on the picture he had posted were people gushing about his relationship. Every new comment that said something like ’Eric totally took this picture!’ or ’OMG look at that body, his boyfriend is so lucky’ or, Jack’s personal favourite, ’Jack you poor thing! That handsome boy of yours better be taking good care of you!’ was shown to Bitty, and they never failed to earn him a smile and kiss. It was strange, in the best way, to have this experience he never thought he would have, hundreds of people invested in his relationship and genuinely happy for him.

Given how strongly people reacted when Bitty merely mentioned his boyfriend in a tweet or a video, Jack knew he shouldn’t be afraid of what kind of response he would get to sharing parts of their daily life on the internet, but he still couldn’t shake the nerves when he went to press the share button on that day’s post. It wasn’t a monumental or even remotely scandalous picture, but all the same it felt far more intimate than he was used to sharing. They had taken the photo the morning after their skating date, Jack making breakfast in an old Samwell tee, with Bitty in his now worn out Zimmermann sweater, sitting on the counter next to the stove as Jack stirred the eggs in the pan. It had taken some effort to get them both in the frame, but Jack thought the picture turned out perfectly, the sun making Bitty’s hair glow gold, both of them wearing matching smiles as they leant their heads together to both fit in the picture. For once Jack had forgone a caption, hoping the picture spoke for itself.

Of course, it was barely a few minutes before the notifications came flooding in, and for once the positive heavily outweighed the negative. It took Jack a few solid minutes of scrolling to find even one negative comment, and even then, there were over twenty responses to it that made it very clear that this person’s opinions weren’t shared or welcome. For the first time, including his relationship in the narrative of his life that he shared didn’t feel like a statement. He was just doing what anyone would, and sharing the things that made him happy, it didn’t have to be a radical gesture to express his affection for his boyfriend, and it was a huge relief for Jack to feel that people were starting to treat them like any other couple.

_X_

If they hadn’t been travelling, Jack’s parents would have reached out to make sure he was okay as soon as the game was over, but as luck would have it, they were on a flight back to Montreal from LA just as Jack was getting smashed into the boards, and when she had heard the news, it had taken Bob an hour to talk Alicia down from hopping back on a plane and rushing to her son’s side. Instead, they called him as soon as they could, and set up a time to Skype, so his parents could reassure themselves that Jack was in fact fine. After his overdose, every accident on the ice, every stressful situation held so much more weight in his parents’ eyes, they never knew what would upset the delicate balance he had managed to maintain. Jack knew they had every reason to worry, but it was still hard to stomach the panic in his mother’s eyes whenever she saw him hurt or upset in any way. It had taken years, and so many steps backwards for every inch he moved forwards, but Jack had finally gotten to a point in his life where he felt stable, that no matter what he faced, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, he could recover. As much as it was his first instinct to attribute that progress to having Bitty in his life, Jack was starting to understand just how far he had come on his own.

The Wednesday before Jack’s first game back on Saturday night, he set his laptop on the kitchen counter so he could help Bitty make dinner as he waited for his parents to call. Admittedly, helping Bitty cook had started as Jack just handing his boyfriend ingredients and washing dishes, but the more they had done this together, especially since moving in together, the more Jack had become involved in the process. He had never been bad at cooking, per se, more unmotivated than anything, but with Bitty at his side, it had become a much more enjoyable task. Even when Bitty wasn’t there, Jack remembered his boyfriend’s voice giving him helpful tips and sharing the family stories behind the recipes, and he still found himself enjoying the task at hand.

They were in the middle of a heated debate over rosemary versus thyme as the seasoning for their chicken when the familiar tone of an incoming call rang out from Jack’s computer. Thankfully, Bitty had long gotten over his apprehension at talking to Jack’s parents, so he answered the call with Bitty still at his side, his boyfriend giving him a look that told him their discussion was far from over. “Salut maman! Où est papa?”

“Le jardin, il sera bientôt là. Salut Eric, comment ça va?”

It had taken him a while, but Bitty was finally at a point where he could understand and speak conversational French, (though the limited French he did speak came out in a Quebecois/Parisian hybrid that Jack found adorable) so the Zimmermanns didn’t take as much care to translate for him anymore.

“I’m doing just fine, or I would be if your son would just admit that rosemary is a far superior seasoning to thyme.”

“I don’t know Eric, you know what they say, thyme heals all wounds.”

“Papa, no.”

Bitty snorted out a laugh as he looked between Jack, who was pinching the bridge of his nose with a resigned sigh, and Bob, who was smiling smugly as he settled onto the couch next to Alicia, the camera jostling as they readjusted to fit them both in the frame. With a glare spared for both his boyfriend and father, Jack turned back to his mother with a soft smile, seeing that despite her warm greeting there was concern in her eyes. “Before you ask, I’m feeling fine, yes I am resting and doing everything the doctors told me to, you don’t need to worry.”

“Jack, I’m going to worry whether you’re injured or not. That check was personal, and as much as people don’t want to admit that, we know it’s true. What’s to stop that from happening again? Are you sure a week is long enough to take off?”

“Maman, I’m not going to put my career on hold because of some prejudiced asshole.” Jack bristled, and he could feel Bitty slide a steadying hand onto the small of his back. He let it ground him, and stopped himself from saying anything more, he knew that his mother’s concern came from love.

“We’re not saying to stop playing, Jack. But your mother is right, there is no guarantee that this was a one-time thing. You knew the risks when you made the decision to come out, and we are so proud of you, don’t forget that, but this is your safety we are talking about.”

Bob’s voice was soft but firm, and something in that tone brought Jack right back to the time just after he had gotten back from the hospital, when it had been the voice his father had used to urge him to go to therapy sessions and eat a proper meal. But this was different, this time Jack knew that he was doing the right thing, what was best for him. And most importantly, this time Jack wasn’t doing it alone. In fact, he couldn’t recall a time he had felt less alone, because not only did he have Bitty, who made him feel like he could overcome anything, but he had all the people who were constantly sending him messages and sharing his story and supporting him in every way they knew how. When Jack went back onto that ice, he wouldn’t be doing it as a single player, or even a single member of a team, he would be doing it as a part of a community that was finally stepping out of the shadows and fighting for space. And it was worth the risk and the hate, because for the first time he was a part of something not only bigger than himself, but bigger than the game itself.

“I’ll be fine, there’s nothing they can do to me that I can’t handle.” That I haven’t already done to myself he thinks but doesn’t say, though he can tell by his parents’ faces that they’re remembering the same things he is.

“I think what Jack means is that he’s in good hands.” Bitty interjected before the dark mood could progress any further. “He’s got a good team, with good management, and the fans have been pretty clear about how they feel about this whole business. There are blogs and everything!”

Almost without thinking, Jack pressed a kiss to the side of Bitty’s head as a silent thank you, and he caught the warm smile his mother tried to hide as he pulled away. The mood sufficiently lightened, the topic of conversation soon drifted, and though he knew that his parents were still concerned, Jack was happy to spend the next hour listening to Bitty and his mother trade recipes in between disjointed attempts to make plans for a visit to Montreal when Jack has some time off.

_X_

As restless as his week off had made him, Jack still felt the familiar twisting of anxiety in his gut when he showed up to the rink on Saturday. But this time, he knew how to deal with it, he knew that Bitty was just a phone call away, as he had reminded him numerous times between kisses as he sent Jack out the door that morning, and he knew that the team had his back this time. One look at some of the players as he entered the dressing room was enough to know that someone had given them a talking to, and given the genuine fear in a few of their eyes, Jack guessed it was George.

As they were lining up to take the ice for warmup, Tater came over and wrapped Jack in a one-armed hug, luckily avoiding his ribs, which were still tender. “You are looking much better today Zimmboni! You are ready for winning, yes?”

Laughing, Jack nodded and gave Tater a pat on the back, which felt vaguely like patting a brick wall. “Thanks again, Tater, for everything.”

“It is nothing, we are team!”

With that Tater was off, speeding out onto the ice, with Jack not far behind. As he crossed the ice, Jack hazarded a glance up into the stands, and slowed to a stop as he was met with a sight he had never thought he would see. Amidst the normal blue and white jerseys he was accustomed to seeing, there were spots of colour drawing his eye in the crowd, people in rainbow shirts holding signs that bore his name and number, most of them bearing the #justiceforjack slogan at the bottom. It wasn’t as if they were a majority of the crowd, from where he was standing he could only pick out a handful of people, but it was more than Jack had ever expected, and he had to will the tears away as he lifted off his helmet and raised a hand in a wave to those brave people in the crowd.

A cheer went up through the arena, and Jack couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he pulled his helmet back on and focused on his warmup. Even if he didn’t get the justice they were all hoping for, even if his career ended after this season because of his sexuality, Jack considered this a victory, because for the first time ever, he was on the ice with people cheering for him. Not for his father, not for his team, not for his stats, but for him, and that was all he could have ever hoped for.

Chapter Text

_/6\_

The occasional hateful comment or on-ice scuffle aside, Jack’s life went mostly back to normal as the season progressed, which was a blessing considering how much pressure he was under. Given his key role in the Falconers’ Stanley Cup win last season and the reputation he was garnering as a leader both on and off the ice, Jack had a lot of people paying attention to him for things other than his sexuality. Oddly enough, it was reassuring, even when his every move on the ice was being critiqued, because at least that was familiar ground. For the most part Jack was able leave his personal life outside of the rink and just do his job, but this time it didn’t feel like hiding.

The player who had injured him in the first game of the season had been given a four game suspension, and was required to attend what the league was referring to as ‘sensitivity training’. Though it didn’t address the root of the problem, and there was no guarantee that something like that wouldn’t happen again, the incident had brought the issue to the forefront, and that was more than Jack had been expecting. People were talking about the issue, finally admitting that the sport as a whole had a problem, and not just when it came to issues of sexuality, but also the pervasive lack of diversity in the league. It wasn’t a solution yet, but at least people were actually looking for one now.

About a week before the Falcs qualified for the playoffs, the news came out that the first North American vs European All-Star tournament was going to be held in Russia, and the topic of conversation in the sports world turned to who in the NHL would make it on to a team. Tater, of course, was thrilled that his country would be hosting, and was pretty much guaranteed a spot on the European team. There were a few other names being thrown around as top picks that Jack was familiar with, including Kent, though that was no surprise. What was surprising, was that one of the names Jack was hearing most commonly when the topic was brought up was his own.

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t think he was good enough, he had been through enough counseling and more than enough Eric Bittle Pep Talks to recognize his own accomplishments, it was just that this tournament had never seemed like a possibility for him. Canada not only had one of the highest numbers of players in the league, but also some of the toughest critics, and even tougher fans. Being considered an All-Star in hockey, especially as a Canadian, was quite the achievement, and not one that Jack had necessarily thought he deserved, but apparently the people had spoken. What was even more shocking to him, was that this was something his father had never done.

As far as careers went, Jack would have to say that he had a pretty good one, but he had always felt that he was destined to repeat his father’s accomplishments. When it came to hockey, there were really only so many accolades and awards to be won, and Jack had never considered that there was something he would be able to achieve that his father hadn’t. But lo and behold, here was something he could do that would be his alone, not a repeat performance by Zimmermann Junior. And if that wasn’t enough to have Jack itching for an offer, Bitty’s reaction to the possibility of him playing in the tournament was.

“Lord, Jack, of all the places they could hold this thing, they’re doing it in Russia! Can you imagine all the historical sites you’ll get to visit? Granted, the food certainly isn’t much of a draw, far too much boiled stuff for my taste, but still! Do you think I’ll be able to go with you? I mean, I’m sure Chloe would give me the time off from the bakery, but what would I do with myself while you were busy training and playing? And what about-“

“Bits, I haven’t even been asked to play.”

“Not yet, but you will! No one has been announced for either team yet, sweetheart, but everyone knows you’re going to be there.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, there are a lot of North Americans in the league, and most of them have a lot more experience and star power than me. I’ll be lucky if I even get optioned.”

As much as Jack didn’t want to believe what he was saying, it was a reflex for him to convince himself of the certainty of the most negative outcome, because then in every situation he was always either right or pleasantly surprised. His counselor had referred to that as ‘Doomsday Mentality’, but Jack wasn’t ready to give up that coping mechanism just yet. It seemed better than letting himself be disappointed at every opportunity.

_X_

It wasn’t until the Falconers were out of the playoffs, eliminated in the second round, that teams for the All Star Tournament started to be announced. Jack watched as his friends and teammates and people he had played with and against were picked for either team, doing his best ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he witnessed the rosters filling up without him. Tater and Kent and Snowy and a few guys he recognized from the Q were being snapped up, and still no calls to Jack or his agent, no matter how many times he checked his phone.

Just when Jack had officially given up, when there were only three or four spots left on the North American team and he knew they would go to people like Crosby and Price and the real superstars, he got a call midway through his morning workout. A short phone conversation and a great deal of stuttering and asking for clarification later, Jack Zimmermann was officially a member of the North American All-Star team.

It didn’t feel real, not while he finished up his workout and made himself a smoothie, or while he walked to the grocery store a few blocks from their apartment to pick up ingredients for dinner before Bitty got home from the bakery. He moved on autopilot, starting on one of the pasta dishes that Bitty had taught him when they first moved in together, something he could now make with his eyes closed, while he waited for Bitty to get home. He managed to keep up with Bitty’s whirlwind of conversation, nodding and humming at the right points, doing his best to listen to his boyfriend while his mind tried to convince his body to wake up from what was obviously the best dream he had ever had.

He was finally forced to accept that he wasn’t dreaming when Bitty nearly dropped his phone with a squawk while they were sitting together on the couch after dinner. Given how dependent Bitty was on the device, Jack knew it had to be something big to startle him that much.

“You okay Bits?”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, why did you not tell me that you were picked for the All-Star team?”

When he heard it out loud, coming from the one person he trusted the most, Jack finally let himself believe it. He couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed when he felt the sting of tears forming in his eyes as he smiled for the first time since the phone call.

“I just couldn’t believe it was real. I didn’t think I was allowed to have this. But it’s really happening.”

As much as he had tried not to think about, there had been a voice in Jack’s head that had told him that there was no way that the only out player in the league would be picked for an international all-stars game, that he would forever have to choose between living his truth or being successful in his career, but it was starting to seem like he might be allowed to have both.

“Oh sweetheart, of course you are.” In the blink of an eye Bitty was practically in Jack’s lap, hands settling on his shoulders. “You work harder than anyone else I know, and you are really, really good at your job. They would have been crazy not to pick you.”

“I love you.” Jack tilted his head up to steal a kiss before he spoke again, letting out everything he hadn’t allowed himself to think about before. “I wouldn’t want to do this if I couldn’t do it with you by my side. I knew that coming out would hurt my chances at opportunities like this, but this wouldn’t mean anything if I couldn’t share it with you. I want you to come with me. If you want to, that is. I just, I want this to be about us, not just about my career.”

Unsurprisingly, Bitty responded enthusiastically and tearfully, and the rest of the evening was spent sharing lazy kisses in between Bitty’s frantic sightseeing planning and Jack doing his best to respond to all the texts and tweets and messages he was getting in congratulations.

_X_

Tater was the one who had the idea to get some of the Falconers together before the All-star Tournament, a chance for them to reconnect and wish each other well, before some of them went to Russia and the rest went to their various hometowns and training sessions. George rented out the back room of a restaurant downtown for the occasion, and nearly the whole team piled around a table, chirping and chatting. Naturally, it wasn’t long before the topic of conversation turned to the tournament, and by extension, Jack.

“So Tots, how do you feel about playing against the living legend, Jack Zimmermann?”

Jack didn’t see who spoke up, but soon everyone was laughing and joining in as Tater waxed on about how very afraid he was to play against ‘the greatest player alive’ and how Europe was certainly doomed. With every hyperbolic statement his face got redder, and he slouched further into his seat, but part of him was glowing with pride, because he knew that as much as they were joking around, these guys all believed in him more than he ever had in himself.

“So who’s Bad Bob again?”

“I don’t know, man. All I know about the guy is that he has a hockey legend for a son.”

“Yeah, his kid is a fucking machine on the ice!”

The evening deteriorated rather quickly after that, and Jack left the restaurant to cheers of “Zimmermann! Zimmermann!” an hour or so later, a goofy smile plastered on his face.
By the time he got home, Bitty was already sitting in bed, wearing his well-worn Falconers’ shirt and a pair of shorts he had bought in a matching blue. Jack got ready for bed fairly quietly, a small smile still on his face as he slid into bed next to Bitty, immediately plastering himself to his boyfriend’s side.

“Someone had a good night. I’m guessing the boys were happy for you?”

By that point Jack’s smile was so big that he had to hide his face in Bitty’s neck for a moment just to collect himself.

“They really are, they’re proud of me. And for once,” Jack looked up, still flushed and smiling but feeling slightly more under control. “I’m proud of me too.”

This smile on Bitty’s face was almost big as the one on his own as he launched himself at Jack. “Oh honey, you should be, you deserve this more than anyone.”

And for once, Jack let himself believe Bitty, he let himself believe that this was something he could have. For once his identity and his career were in his own hands, and he felt like he was headed in the right direction.

_X_

His good mood persisted through to the next morning, until he made the decision to check some sports sites on his phone as he often did during breakfast. Normally it was just to keep up to date on other teams and players, but it wasn’t unusual to see his own name in the headlines, especially since the roster for the All-star team had been finalized. Which was why Jack didn’t give too much thought to the few articles he could see in the sidebar with his name in the titles, until he clicked on one and felt the blood leave his face.

“Jack, honey, are you okay?”

Bitty’s voice sounded distant, even though he was seated just across the table. Everything felt distant for Jack in that moment, except the headline he was staring at, every letter crisp and dark and unmistakeable.

“Zimmermann’s Journey Over Before It’s Begun? Russian Officials Hint at Possibility of Providence’s Golden Boy Not Making it Into the Country.”

Chapter Text

_/7\_

The thought that kept running through Jack’s mind was that he should have expected this. It had been too good to be true, nothing ever worked out this perfectly for him. Well, except for Bitty. Bitty who had rounded the table to stand in front of Jack when he hadn’t responded, who had taken his phone gently from his hands and read the headline, before putting the phone on the table and cradled Jack’s face tenderly in his hands.

“Oh sweetheart, don’t listen to them. This is just some reporter trying to cause some drama, they couldn’t even name their sources in the article. Do you want me to call George and ask her if she’s heard anything about this?”

It took more effort than he would care to admit for Jack to shake his head and pick up his phone, mouth dry and throat tight as he tried to speak.
“I…I can do it.”

Be it good or bad news, Jack knew that he wanted to hear it directly from George, she wouldn’t sugar coat things for him, and she would know what the next step should be if there was any truth behind the article’s claims. He pulled up George’s name in his contacts with shaking hands, trying not to focus on the worst-case scenarios his brain was coming up with. As if he could tell where Jack’s thoughts were going, Bitty moved to sit in his lap, the way he often did when Jack started to feel overly anxious or panicked. The warmth and weight of his boyfriend grounded Jack, it got him to focus on the present and remind himself that he wasn’t going through anything alone. Almost without thinking about it, Jack pressed as much of himself against Bitty as he could as he hit call and put his phone to his ear, forehead resting on Bitty’s shoulder.
The phone had barely rung twice before it was answered, and Jack just knew that had to be a bad sign.

“You read the articles?”

George’s voice was calm, but Jack could hear an edge to it that did nothing to ease the twisting feeling in his stomach.

“One of them. How much truth is there to what they’re saying?”

Before George had even responded, Jack had a sinking feeling that he knew where this was going, and he pulled Bitty tighter against himself, as if that could soften the blow.
“More than I’d like to admit. Nothing is certain right now, but the Tournament’s management has been contacted by the Russian government. They’re saying your papers aren’t in order, but I went over your documents myself, there’s not a damn thing wrong with them.”

“We know why they’re doing this, George, everyone does. Can they get away with it?”

Her heavy sigh was all Jack needed to hear to know what his odds were, and he felt sick. As hard as he tried to listen to everything else George was saying, Jack felt like everything was happening a few feet above his head, and it was all he could do to just hang on. He could feel Bitty’s hands resting on his shoulders, and he focused on that until the phone call was done, letting the warmth of his boyfriend’s body against his keep him from falling apart.

As he hung up and set his phone down, Jack felt a familiar numbness set in, but clearly Bitty was having none of that. The second the phone was on the table, Bitty had Jack's face cupped between his hands and was speaking softly, but firmly to him.

"Alright honey, George is going to take care of the business side of this mess, all you need to do is stay focused on yourself. We won't let them get away with this, I promise."

Glad that at least one of them had been paying attention to the rest of the phone call, Jack only nodded, hands coming to rest on Bitty's waist. A part of him knew he should be staying calm and trying to figure out his next move, but the rest of him just wanted to cry. He hadn't done anything wrong, objectively Jack knew that, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being punished. He could remember the feeling from his time in the Juniors, whenever he had missed a shot or let someone past him, whenever he hadn’t been the fastest or the strongest player, that cold, twisting feeling had settled in his stomach and his brain replayed every mistake, everything he should have done better. He remembered the comments from coaches and teammates and reporters, people who expected him to be just like his father, to make perfection look easy. He could only imagine what people were going to say about this, there was likely to be a whole host of new criticism and ridicule that would come along with this, and Jack already felt too exhausted to face it.

Everything that he was feeling must have been fairly evident on his face, because it wasn’t long before Bitty was standing up and gently coaxing him up out of the chair. Mainly out of habit, Jack followed Bitty as he led the way to the couch, and Jack had a brief moment of clarity in which he was grateful that they both had the day off before his mind went right back to churning out every ugly, frightening thought it could come up with. He let Bitty manhandle him onto the couch, lying him down and settling himself on top of Jack. It was only then that Jack let himself cry.

_X_

Taking on the emotional burdens of other people was something that Bitty did exceptionally well according to his mother, Jack, and the counselor that he had briefly seen in his sophomore year of college. If the current circumstances were anything to go by, he would have to agree with them. Bitty had expected these few weeks before the all-star tournament to be filled with work at the bakery and keeping himself busy while Jack trained with the team, no more draining than any other week. Instead, Bitty was working his shifts at the bakery while Jack was doing mandatory training with the team, though he seemed less and less willing to go as the days went by, and then he came home to make dinner for the both of them and desperately try to coax Jack out of the shell he had retreated into.

By no means was Bitty blaming Jack for anything, he was a victim here more than anybody, it was just hard, is all. Bitty couldn’t help but blame himself for all this, as if it was his fault that an entire government riddled with prejudice was trying to punish his boyfriend. Being raised as a good Christian Southern boy, guilt was something Bitty could do very well.

He spent his days trying to lose himself in his work, picking up spare jobs and extra hours at work to fill the time when Jack was with the team, which meant both of them were coming home drained and with frayed nerves that neither were willing to talk about. They hadn’t heard much from George either, beyond the fact that she was doing everything she could, and the waiting had them both on edge. Conversations became stilted, the very air in the apartment felt heavy, and the only time they really spent together was when they went to bed at night. In the safety of the dark, they clung to each other, and each night Bitty desperately hoped that if he held Jack tight enough, maybe he wouldn’t break apart.

It wasn’t until Chloe approached him on his lunch break one day that Bitty acknowledged that anything was wrong. He was sitting in the back room, picking at the salad he had thrown together for his lunch when she sat down next to him, sliding a plate with a fresh brownie on it over to him.

“You need some meat on those bones, boy. You’re wasting away before my very eyes.”

Bitty managed a small ‘thank you’ and a half smile, making no move to eat the offered dessert.

“I’m not a sports fan, but you’d have to live under a rock not to know what’s happening to your boy right now. I can only imagine how hard it is on him, and I can tell just by looking at you that you’re taking it just as hard, if not more so. If you need to talk to someone, I’ve been known to be a decent listener. But I think it’s also worth saying that your boy would want to know that this is affecting you too. You’re allowed to be hurt by this.”

It was only the strength of his own pride that kept Bitty from crying in front of his boss, but it was a close enough call that the smile he gave her was more than a little watery. He finally reached for the brownie she had offered, taking a small bite before he trusted himself to talk.

“Thank you, ma’am. I know that what I feel is nothing compared to what he’s going through, I just wish there was something more I could do for him.”

“Sweetpea, you are already doing everything he needs you to, just by loving and standing by him. Don’t work yourself into an early grave.”

A sniffle escaped Bitty as he nodded, but it was more from relief than from sadness. Knowing that someone else understood what he was feeling and didn’t blame him for it was a weight off Bitty’s shoulders, and he knew Chloe was right, Jack deserved honesty from him now more than ever.

_X_

There was only so long things could go on this way, Jack knew that. Every day he went to practice with the team, which seemed pointless now, but since there was no news from George, it was all he could do. So he showed up to practice, where all the guys walked on eggshells around him, and he left every day feeling not only drained, but also guilty, because the team should have been over the moon about the tournament, but none of them even dared show excitement for fear of upsetting him. Jack considered just not showing up to the practices anymore, but that felt too much like admitting defeat. So instead he suffered through and put on a brave face, and then came home to Bitty, who was holding himself together only marginally better than Jack was.

They kept up this exhausting routine, until one night, just over two weeks after the initial announcement, when Bitty came home holding a takeout box that contained a brownie that was definitely not in Jack’s meal plan. After dinner, which passed mostly in silence, Bitty settled himself on the couch with the brownie and beckoned Jack over, and he went to Bitty with no hesitation. For the first time in nearly two weeks, Jack pressed himself against Bitty as he sat, dropping a kiss onto his hair before he stole a bite of the dessert. Something was different with Bitty, he seemed less weighed down, and that alone was enough to kick Jack out of his slump.

“This hasn’t been easy for me, honey. It’s not your doing, and I know it’s ten times worse for you, but you and I have promised to be honest with each other. I just wish there was something I could do for you, anything to make this all better. But I can’t, neither of us can, and while the sitting and waiting is never going to be easy, it will be better if we both admit that this is hard, but we have each other. I’m allowed to be upset, and so are you, but that doesn’t mean we stop loving each other.”

For a moment all Jack could do was nod as he marvelled at how easily Bitty was able to break through his walls and pull him back from the edge. The problem wasn’t solved, and he still felt exhausted and full of self-pity, but he didn’t feel so alone anymore. Bitty loved him, told him so every day, and that was enough. Whether he got to play in the tournament or not, he could come home to Bitty and feel loved and supported, and that thought felt like a revelation. He had spent the last two weeks focusing so much on the what-ifs and possible outcomes of the whole situation, but he hadn’t let himself consider the certainties. All-Star or not, his parents would love him, Bitty would love him, and his team would still support him. That had to be enough.

“I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, and I’m sorry. I’ve been so focused on the tournament, on whether or not I’ll play, and I haven’t let myself think about how this must be for you. You deserve better than that, I’m sorry.”

“None of that, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty admonished gently, bumping his shoulder against Jack’s before feeding him another bite of brownie. “I’m responsible for my own feelings, I should have told you how I was doing before now. I can’t just bottle these things up, and neither can you. You can always tell me how you’re feeling, sweetheart, and though I can probably guess what’s going through that head of yours, I want to hear it from you all the same.

“I just want everything to stop.”

As soon as the words were out of Jack’s mouth he regretted them, and even if he hadn’t, seeing the way all the colour drained from Bitty’s face would have made him. He knew exactly what had caused Bitty to react that way, knew exactly what memory was running through his mind. When he had told Bitty about the draft, and his overdose and everything that led to it, Jack had tried his best to keep his description factual and not get into the emotional side of things, but he did remember telling Bitty that at the time of his overdose, he just wanted everything to stop, that’s why he had taken so many pills. But that had been so, so different to what he was feeling now, and Bitty had to know that.
“No, Bits, that’s not what I mean. It’s not like it was before, I promise.”

Without really realising it, he pulled Bitty against himself, though whether he was doing it as a comfort to himself or to Bitty he wasn’t really sure.

“Back then, I wanted everything to stop, I didn’t want to exist anymore, because when hockey went away, I didn’t have anything. I had built my whole life around one thing, and when it didn’t go the way I planned, I felt like my life was over. But now, even if I never played another game, I know it would be alright. It would suck, and it would be hard, but I would survive, because I have friends and family, and my photography, and you.”

It seemed like Bitty was holding his breath, and Jack could guess he was just worried that the smallest movement would end what must be the longest string of words Jack had ever put together unassisted, but for once, he knew what he wanted to say, and he knew how to say it. Sliding his hands up to rest on Bitty’s shoulders, Jack pulled back slightly to look him in the eye.

“I know it’s probably useless to say this, but you don’t need to worry about me. At least not in that way. Back then hockey was the most important thing, the only important thing in my life. But that’s not true anymore, I have so many more reasons to stick around. And believe me, I’m going to do everything in my power to stick around as long as possible, because I’m not done with you yet. If I was gone I would miss our Sunday brunches, and our photo walks downtown, and you wouldn’t have anyone to explain the episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race to. I need you to know that this-everything that’s going on right now-is hard for me, and it’s going to continue to be hard for me, that’s not going to change just because you love me and I love you. But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t helped, because you have done more for me than I can ever explain. So you don’t need to worry about me giving up like I did before, I promise.”

By the time he stopped speaking they both seemed slightly shocked, tears in their eyes, the brownie forgotten in Bitty’s lap. For a moment they just looked at each other, absorbing everything that had been said, before they were both leaning forward, lips meeting in a soft kiss.

“Thank you, for being honest with me, and for being the strongest man I know. But it’s okay for you not to be okay, you’re allowed to hurt.” Bitty breathed against Jack’s lips, his hand resting on the back of his neck, a solid, warm weight there. They stayed pressed together like that for a while longer, until they both had sore necks and stiff knees, but it was worth it to feel connected again.

When they finally got up and got ready for bed, it was with a renewed sense of peace. There was still a sadness there, a pressure that kept smiles and laughs softer than they usually were, but it was worlds better than it had been a day ago. Jack slept better that night than he had in two weeks, his arms wrapped fully around Bitty.

He woke up to a text message from George asking him to call her, and so he did, heart in his throat as he hit call, not bothering to get up from the bed where Bitty was still asleep next to him. He had prepared himself for this moment, or tried to, but it still hit him like a train when he heard the words out of George’s mouth. He managed to thank her and hang up with composure, but the phone wasn’t even out of his hands before he was slumping forward, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

“Jack, what is it?”

Bitty’s voice was still rough with sleep and his body was warm where he pressed it against Jack’s back, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to get the words out of his mouth.

“George called, its official. They won’t let me play.”

Chapter Text

_/8\_

For as long as he could remember, Jack had found comfort in time. It was something rigid and reliable, the foundation of all routines and the real sign of any kind of progress he made. He had been obsessed with it when he was younger, timing himself at practices when he ran drills, or during a workout to make sure he did exactly the right amount of exercise daily. Always out the door at the same time every day and twenty minutes early for every practice, game and event, time had been the biggest obsession Jack had. Then, the closer the draft came, the more unreliable time seemed to become, and the thing that had kept Jack grounded seemed to be tossing him into the air at every turn. Practices and games flew past and everything was moving too quickly and the pills helped, but never for long enough.

After his overdose, Jack found it harder to trust time, when the days blurred together into one long stretch of lying in bed and forcing himself to smile when his parents checked in on him. Eventually, with the help of his parents, a parade of therapists and the kids he coached on his peewee team, time started to make more sense to Jack again, and though he still didn’t trust it implicitly the way he had before, he was able to go back to the routines he felt safe in, and that had been enough. But his grip on time had been fragile, and all it had taken was that last push from the phone call with George to tip him back into the mindless blur of days he had pulled himself out of all those years ago.

Had Jack been asked, he likely wouldn’t have been able to say how many days had passed since he had learned that he wouldn’t be playing in Russia. All he knew was that he slept and ate and worked out, because as much as he would have preferred to lay in bed and let everything just wash over him, his body didn’t know how to exist outside of the routines he had built for himself. When Bitty was home, things felt clearer, but as much as he had offered, Jack had insisted that Bitty not take time off work to stay with him. Boyfriend or not, it wasn’t Bitty’s job to take care of Jack, especially not when he knew that Bitty would let his own problems eat him alive in favour of helping Jack with his. So he appreciated the time he got with Bitty, doing his best to stay engaged and act as if nothing was wrong, but that took more energy than he had, and he could only keep it up for so long.

According to Bitty, people were outraged at the news that Jack wouldn’t be on the team anymore, and petitions were being spread online to get him to play, with fans and celebrities alike supporting his cause. Unlike the last time he had received this kind of public support, Jack couldn’t find it in himself to feel honoured, instead he just felt guilty, because all of these people were fighting a lost battle, in the name of someone who couldn’t even bring himself to thank them. Of course, Bitty was in the thick of it, posting links to petitions and contact information for League officials who had the sway to do something about Russia’s decision, while the most Jack could bring himself to do was try his best to smile sincerely when Bitty showed him that Beyoncé had retweeted one of the petitions he had posted.

As much as he wanted to believe in the power of the people, and trust that justice would prevail, Jack’s mind had already convinced itself that this was it, there was no point in signing a petition when an entire government had put its foot down. He still thanked Bitty for fighting for him, and told him to tell all the people who supported him that he was grateful, but he couldn’t bring himself to do more than that, it felt too much like setting himself up for disappointment. So he kept off of social media, letting everything be filtered through Bitty before he heard about it, which was likely why it was such a shock when Bitty handed him his phone, open to an article on a sports blog, with the headline reading League Makes Their Move, Montreal to Host All-Star Game?.

The article summarized the news that had broken earlier that morning; that the league had officially issued a statement, threatening to move the tournament to a new location if Russia didn’t step down on their ban on LGBT athletes, and that just after the news had broken, several government officials and hockey fans from Montreal had flocked to the comment section and twitter alike to offer up their city as the new host. Jack had to read the article over a few times just to absorb what was going on, he had been so convinced that it was all over. Of course, he knew objectively that things like this had happened in the sports world before, events and games had been moved for political reasons, he had just never let himself think that he might be considered important enough to warrant similar treatment. And then, for nearly the hundredth time, Jack had to remind himself that as much as this felt personal, it was about more than just him.

A quick phone call with George that was mostly Bitty talking, given that Jack still didn’t feel capable of speaking more than three or four words at a time, supported everything that was in the article, and gave some insight that only George could provide.

“As much as I wish it wasn’t, this is all about money. The League doesn’t want to lose the revenue from fans who will boycott the games if Jack can’t play, and Russia won’t want to lose the revenue of hosting the tournament if they don’t let him in. So now, it’s just a matter of who wants it more. I wouldn’t be surprised if Russia backed down by the end of the day, there are millions of dollars of potential income hanging in the balance here.”

Bitty seemed to find this reassuring, Jack, however, did not. He had been disillusioned to the real driving force behind the industry for a long time, but being used as a bargaining chip like this was something he would never be able to stomach. On top of that, what had already been a humiliating experience was now bringing him even more attention, and despite what George and Bitty seemed to think, Jack didn’t feel it was the positive kind. The more he thought about it, the less Jack liked the situation, both outcomes seemed like a loss to him. If the host country of the games was changed, Jack would forever be known as the player who had an entire tournament moved just so he could play, and if Russia conceded and he was allowed to play there, he had no doubt that they would find other ways to make it clear that he wasn’t welcome. As much as he knew that he should be grateful that people were fighting to give him a chance, Jack just wanted it to be over, for once in his life he didn’t want to play.

_X_

In the end Georgia was right, as always. Barely a few hours had passed since Jack had read the article Bitty showed him before he was getting a call from a League official telling him that his paperwork had miraculously been approved by the Russian government and he was free to play. Bitty seemed ecstatic, immediately sending off a dozen tweets thanking everyone for their support before bustling off to the kitchen to bake, but Jack just felt cold. He knew he should be happy, this was everything he had wanted up until a week ago, but now it didn’t feel like a victory anymore. But everyone would expect him to be grateful for this second chance, so Jack did what he was good at and kept quiet. He sent off a few tweets of his own expressing his gratitude, he went into the kitchen and sat and listened to Bitty chatter away while he rolled out dough for at least three pies, and he pretended everything was fine.

The evening was spent fielding calls from friends and family who wanted to congratulate him and tell him how proud they were, and if Jack hadn’t had Bitty at his side he didn’t think he could have gotten through it all. After the third or fourth call he gave up trying to sound sincere, just thanking everybody and letting Bitty do most of the talking. Dinner went similarly, with Bitty leading the conversation and Jack responding when he could clear his mind enough to do so. It was clear that Bitty knew something was wrong, but he didn’t say anything, and Jack knew why, he was trying to give him time to sort it out on his own, or ask for help on his own terms. It was something Jack was trying to get better at, trusting both himself and Bitty to be able to deal with these types of things together, and he knew that now more than ever he owed it to Bitty to be honest with him.

It wasn’t until they were in bed that night, Jack’s front pressed to Bitty’s back, their hands intertwined, that Jack finally spoke up. “I’m sorry. For the way I’ve been acting. You’ve been so supportive and I’ve just been difficult.”

Bitty was already shushing him before he had finished talking, turning around in Jack’s arms so they were facing each other, their faces barely visible in the dim light from the window.

“None of that. You have been through more this week than most people can handle in a lifetime. You’re allowed to be upset. I know it must be hard to adjust, with how quickly things have been changing, but are you happy now that you’re able to play?”

Jack considered lying, he thought about just smiling and nodding and letting that be the end of the conversation, but he knew that Bitty deserved more than that.

“I want to be, I really want to be able to see this as a good thing, but I can’t. This doesn’t feel like winning, Bits.”

It all came out in a whisper, the most Jack could manage to get past the lump that had been in this throat all day. He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, not wanting to see the look of disappointment that would no doubt be on his boyfriend’s face. But when he felt the cool brush of Bitty’s fingertips across his cheek, Jack’s eyes opened on reflex, and he was met with nothing but fondness in those big brown eyes.

“Jack, this isn’t about winning, it’s about playing the game. Hockey is the most important thing to you, don’t let them take that away from you.”

“They already have! The second that those articles were printed about even the possibility of me not playing, I lost the ability to just play the game.” Realizing how harsh that had sounded, too close to the way he had spoken in the first year they knew each other, Jack softened his tone as he spoke again, a hand coming up to rest on the side of Bitty’s face.

“And hockey’s not the most important thing in my life, not anymore. It still matters to me, but it’s not the only thing.”

The smile that broke across Bitty’s face was blinding even in the darkness of their bedroom, and it eased some of the tightness in Jack’s chest. He knew that this was far from over, that the hard part of this journey was just beginning, but with Bitty looking at him like that, it was easier to let the conversation go for the night and let himself melt into the warmth of his boyfriend’s embrace. There would be time for talking later, but if Jack was going to Russia at the end of next week, their time to be together like this was limited.

_X_

With the morning came a renewed sense of panic for Jack, which was only worsened when George called him to schedule all his press meetings and team training schedules. Since he had missed out on a lot of prep time, he was fast tracking his way through the press circles, a whole day of interviews for various podcasts and websites and magazines, and the mere thought of it had Jack’s hands shaking. This was the part of hockey he had never wanted, the talking and posturing and trying to fit himself into the mould that had been made for athletes. The first two or three interviews were bearable, he just regurgitated the statements the PR team had come up with for him and did his best to smile and nod his way through. It wasn’t until about halfway through the day that it all started to weigh on him.

“Does the team’s management have any plans in place in case of protests or violence against you? Russia hasn’t been the most hospitable host to you already, and you haven’t even stepped foot in the country.”

It wasn’t the first time Jack had thought about the possibility of something happening to him while he was away, but it was the first time that anyone had said anything about it out loud. This interview was for some news website, one of the only non-sports related interviews he was doing, and it was one of the only questions Jack hadn’t been prepped for by the PR team. His hands twisted together in his lap as he tried to calm his nerves enough to speak without stuttering.

“The League has been more than accommodating with this entire situation, and I have total faith that they have the whole team’s safety in mind.”

It didn’t answer the question, they both knew it, but thankfully the interviewer let it slide and moved on to the next question. Jack tried to keep composed after that, but it was all he could do to fake gratitude and excitement for the rest of the interviews, and he left at the end of the day exhausted in every way possible, and with a head full of worries.

If he thought he could hide that from Bitty, Jack had been terribly wrong. The second he stepped into the apartment and put his bag down next to the door, Bitty was on his feet from where he had been sitting on the couch, and was at his side in seconds. “Lord, you look beat sweetheart. You go sit down and I’ll fix you up a snack and some tea.”

Jack nodded wordlessly, making his way over to the couch, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his dress shirt once he was seated. He didn’t know how long he sat just staring at his hands, but by the time he looked up Bitty was making his way back into the room with a plate of homemade oat bars and two steaming mugs full of tea. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just…a lot. This isn’t just hockey anymore, it’s politics, and I am so tired of feeling like everything I do has to be a statement. I just want to do my job, but I’m under more scrutiny now than I ever was before the draft. And when I’m not worried about how I’m playing or how people are perceiving me, I’m worried about getting the shit kicked out of me or worse because I’m going to a country where it is literally illegal to be myself.”

The words tumbled out of Jack before he could stop them, and this wasn’t what he had wanted. He didn’t want to worry Bitty or freak him out, but he couldn’t stop himself once he had started. Thankfully, Bitty didn’t look too startled, if anything he looked relieved. He had likely been waiting for Jack to finally open up, but he had been so patient that Jack had never felt pressured, and he was immensely grateful for that.

“We’ll get through it, sweetheart, I know I can’t fix this for you, but I’ll be there to make things easier any way I can.”

Before Bitty had even finished speaking Jack’s mouth was already open again, because there was no way this was happening.

“Bitty, you’re not coming with me, not after everything that’s happened.”

“And why the hell not? We’re a team, Jack.”

“Because I am not letting you get hurt. I can’t stand even the thought of you being in danger.”

There was a fire in Bitty’s eyes that Jack recognized from early morning checking practices, and he knew that he wasn’t going to back down easily.

“Oh, but it’s fine for you to be in danger, and to leave me here with no easy way to get in touch with you, to just wait and hope that you come home in one piece?”

“That’s different, and you know it, I’ll be with the team the whole time. There would be too much time when you would be on your own, it’s too big of a risk.”

“That is not your decision to make!”

Bitty’s hands were clenched at his sides and his face was flushed, and it was in moments like this that Jack lost his breath with how much he loved this man. Not just because of the passion he saw in his normally soft features, or the way he was so fiercely proud to see him fighting for what he believed in, but because the mere thought of any harm coming to him had Jack’s heart aching and his stomach in knots.

“Eric, I love you. More than anything, you know that. So please believe me when I say that I want you there, there is nothing that would make me happier, but it isn’t safe for you. I know it’s not safe for me either, but I don’t have a choice here, you do.” Jack reached up and cradled Bitty’s face between his hands, leaning in to brush a soft kiss over his lips. “Please, for me.”

Bitty’s eyes had fluttered closed during the kiss, and it took him a second to open them again, but when he did he looked significantly less argumentative, which Jack took as a small victory.

“I’ll think about it, but this conversation isn’t over.”

Chapter Text

_/9\_

It took even more effort than Jack had anticipated to finally get Bitty to agree to staying home while he went to Russia. It had taken the anticipated pleading and reasoning, plus sweet kisses and whispered promises to be careful and keep in touch as often as possible, assurances that he would come home in one piece, even though they both knew that was something he couldn’t promise. Even when Bitty had finally agreed to let Jack go alone, every night Jack had to reassure both Bitty and himself that they were making the right decision as they held each other tight, dreading the nights in the near future where they would be sleeping alone.

All too soon, Bitty was driving Jack to the airport, both of them keeping quiet about how much more there was to this goodbye than their usual farewells before roadies. Jack took some comfort from the fact that for the first time he could actually hug and kiss Bitty goodbye in the airport, like he had always imagined doing, but that did little to dispel the sinking feeling in his stomach. It felt as if the moment he let Bitty walk away he would lose his nerve, because all this time, any strength he had he had for Bitty.

“Sweetheart, as much as I don’t want you to leave, if you dawdle any longer you’re going to miss your flight.”

Bitty’s voice was muffled from where he had his face buried in Jack’s chest, likely to hide the tears that Jack could feel dampening his shirt. Jack was far too close to following his boyfriend into hysterics, so he took a shaky breath before stepping back, one hand resting on the side of Bitty’s neck.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Bits, two weeks isn’t anything we haven’t done before.”

Bitty nodded tearfully, his hand clutching the one Jack had resting on his neck, as if he was afraid of falling apart when Jack let go.

“You better let me know as soon as you land, you hear me? And I expect at least one skype call a day. I don’t care how busy we both are, we make time, I just need to know that you’re all right.”

All Jack could do was nod and pull Bitty back into another tight hug, willing his tears away at least until he was out of Bitty’s sight. They whispered their ‘I love you’s and shared one last kiss before Jack was forced to pull away and make his way through security. To his credit, he made it all the way to his gate before the tears started to fall.

_X_

Amongst the skating and the baking and the videos, there was another thing that Bitty did very well, and that was worry. Even on a normal roadie he worried about Jack’s safety, texting him at least ten times a day to make sure he was alright and remembering to take care of himself. But with Jack on an entirely different continent, Bitty had never felt more useless. The logical part of his brain knew that Jack was in good hands, they had gone to through the different safety precautions they League had put into place in the few days before the tournament, but the rest of Bitty’s mind was filled with worst-case scenarios that saw Jack hurt and alone with no way to let Bitty know what had happened.

The first night they spent apart, Bitty barely slept because exhaustion was preferable to the nightmares that greeted him whenever he closed his eyes. He was still awake by the time Jack messaged him to let him know they had landed safely, and as much as he had been hoping that hearing from Jack would be a relief, it just brought on a new wave of worries, because now Jack was in a country where he was in danger just for living authentically, and there was nothing Bitty could do about it. He messaged Jack back, hoping the number of heart emojis he included would mask the fact that he was already breaking down, and they hadn’t even been apart for a full day yet.

Work was a little better at least, it gave Bitty something to focus on that wasn’t the endless list of terrible things that could have been happening to Jack at that very moment. Baking and prep work and cleaning let him fall into a routine that felt as familiar as being in his mama’s kitchen, it was the closest thing to home he was going to feel until Jack was back in his arms. It was that realisation that had Bitty asking Chloe for extra shifts, because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to relax at home anyway, as quiet as it was with Jack’s absence, so he might as well do something productive with his time.

It was only after his third day straight of working twelve hours that Bitty started to feel the strain, but the only way he was able to sleep at night was if he worked himself to the point of exhaustion, so he powered through. After the fifth day, he came home to find a familiar car in the visitor’s parking spot, and opened his apartment door to find Shitty and Lardo on the couch, both of them paying attention to their own phones but still wrapped around each other against the cushions. It made Bitty’s heart ache to see them like that when he wanted nothing more than to be doing the exact same thing with Jack. At the thought of his boyfriend, Bitty’s blood ran cold and he froze with his hand on the edge of the open door

“What are you two doing here? Did something happen with Jack?”

“Bits, chill, Jack is fine. You, however, are not. You look like you haven’t slept since he left. Your boss emailed Jack, who messaged us and asked us to come check on you, and frankly, I’m glad he did. When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”

Lardo barely looked up from her phone as she spoke, and yet still managed to make Bitty feel like he was under an intense amount of scrutiny. There were some parts of being the team’s manager that had never left Lardo’s personality, and this calm but fierce protectiveness was something Bitty was glad she had held on to. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Bitty needed the help, as long as the house was empty he was going to stay at work, because at least there he could focus on something other than the fact that it felt like part of him had left the country with Jack.

“I’m choosing not to answer that for my own personal pride.”

His aloof tone was ruined by the fact that Bitty immediately flopped down next to Lardo and buried his face in her shoulder. There were no tears this time, he had cried himself dry over the past few nights, but the dull ache was still there behind his eyes.

“I just need him to be safe. And I know being there with him wouldn’t make him any safer, but at least then I would know what’s going on. It feels like I’m just waiting for the phone call from George saying that he’s been hurt or arrested or worse.”

With his face still pressed against Lardo’s shoulder, Bitty let out a shaky breath, unclenching his hands from where they were twisted together in his lap. It was the first time he had voiced any of his concerns out loud, and as scary as it was to have his fears out there in the open, it also was a relief that someone else knew how he was feeling.

“Bruh, with all the media attention and support Jack’s getting, there’s no way anyone would try anything. As fucked up as it is, fear is the way they’re going to try to break him, but Jack’s stronger than that. Plus, we all know there’s no way in hell Tater would let anything happen to him.”

As reluctant as Bitty’s brain was to admit it, Shitty had a point. It had been a relief to Bitty that the league had gone against all regulations and let Tater and Jack room together despite being on opposing teams. Jack hadn’t wanted to cause any more of a stir than he already had in the tournament prep, but Tater had insisted on it, and it took some of the weight off his shoulders to know that Jack was in good hands. It wasn’t as good as being there with Jack, but it did make Bitty’s chest feel just a little bit lighter to be reminded that he wasn’t alone in this. It was a long process, but Bitty was slowly getting better at admitting when he wasn’t okay.

As much as Bitty had intended to bake something when he got home, the couch was far more appealing with other people on it, and Shitty and Lardo didn’t seem to mind when he burrowed in between them, relaxing slightly for the first time since he let go of Jack’s hand at the airport. None of them were in the mood to cook, so Lardo ordered Chinese food from one of the pamphlets on the fridge while Bitty put on Great British Bake Off reruns on his laptop for them to watch.

The next thing Bitty knew, he was sitting up blearily in his own bed, wondering how Shitty managed to carry him into his room without waking him up. After a moment he realized what had woken him up, the persistent beeping of an incoming skype call on his laptop, which was still sitting open on the foot of the bed from earlier that morning when he had been editing a blog post he hadn’t felt inspired enough to finish. Scrambling, Bitty threw back the covers and grabbed his laptop, accepting the call as he settled back against the pillows.

“Oh sweetheart, I miss you.”

It hadn’t been what Bitty had been planning on saying, but all it took was one look at Jack for the ache in his chest to come back full force. He just looked so tired, his face pale and drawn, dark circles under his eyes, he looked as worn out as Bitty felt. It was the first proper video chat they had been able to schedule, and being able to see that Jack was in fact still in one piece was enough to have Bitty breathing easier.

“Sorry to wake you, bud. Shitty told me you fell asleep and I wasn’t going to call, but he said you would want me to, so…”

He trailed off, one hand resting on the back of his head and his eyes downcast. Bitty couldn’t understand how after all this time Jack could still find it hard to believe how much Bitty loved him, but he found it endearing anyway.

“Of course I wanted you to call honey! I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I just didn’t realize how tired I was. And speaking of Shitty, thank you for sending him and Lards over. I want to tell you that you shouldn’t have, but I’m glad that you did. I hadn’t realized how big this apartment feels when you’re not here.”

Now it was Bitty’s turn to trail off. He didn’t want to make Jack feel guilty or upset him, he knew that what Jack was facing was far more difficult than his own struggles, but it was no secret to him that Jack valued honesty over delicacy.

“I’m sorry mon coeur, but I promise that I’ll be home before you know it, and Lardo and Shitty said they can stay until I get back. Lardo is doing commission work and Shitty has the week off to work on a research paper, so they can both work from the apartment. They’ll keep you company until I come home, you’ll barely have a chance to miss me.”

Normally Bitty would have insisted that he didn’t need babysitters, but the prospect of staying alone in the apartment for another week was more than he could bear, so he just nodded.

“As long as you come back to me in one piece, I’ll wait as long as I need to.”

“I promise I will, Bits.”

Bitty didn’t know if Jack was trying to convince him or himself, but he didn’t seem to be having much success in either respect.

_X_

The main thing Jack had worried about for this whole ordeal had been feeling too much, it hadn’t even occurred to him that his main issue would be feeling nothing at all. As soon as the plane landed in Moscow and the team was shuttled to their hotel, Jack felt himself shut down. It was already apparent that he was in for a difficult experience, given the way that none of the staff assigned to the team would even make eye contact with him, so he suspected that this was just his brain’s way of protecting him.

If Jack was honest, it hard started even before they entered the country. On the plane, he had been doing his best to take deep breaths and focus on how warm Bitty’s hands had felt in his own as they said their goodbyes, when he heard the players behind him speaking in hushed tones.

“Did you see the way Zimmermann was with his boyfriend? I mean I get that they’re going to miss each other, but did they have to be so dramatic about it? It’s not like he’s going off to war or anything.”

“Dude, shut the fuck up. Have you read the news at all lately? Russia is a country of dickheads who don’t like gay people. They’ve literally killed people for it. So yeah, bro’s boyfriend is gonna be spooked.”

“It’s not like they’re gonna murder an NHL star, especially not Bad Bob’s son, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Just as Jack was about to put in his headphones so he didn’t have to listen to any more, Tater turned around from where he was sitting beside him and faced the players in the row behind them.

“My friends! You are excited to see my beautiful country, yes? Let me tell you the things you must see in Russia.”

Flashing Tater a grateful smile that he was sure came out as more of a grimace, Jack settled back into his seat and let the white noise of the plane wash over him, a familiar numbness settling deep inside him. This was how it had been during Juniors, the closer the draft came, the harder it had been for him to feel anything. It had been the same way his first year at Samwell, shutting out anything that wasn’t part of the game and pretending that hockey was all that mattered. It was easier this way, there was less disappointment and fear when he only had to focus on one thing, but Jack had realized once he had met Bitty that it wasn’t a very fulfilling way to live either.

It had been hard enough to compose a message to send to Bitty that didn’t sound like a thinly veiled distress call, but given the over use of emojis (even for Bitty, which was saying something) in his reply, Jack could guess that Bitty wasn’t faring much better. Not for the first time, he was grateful that Tater had convinced him that it wasn’t too much trouble for the League to room them together, because he was fairly confident that he wouldn’t have slept or ate nearly enough without Tater there to keep him on a schedule. When they weren’t at the rink practicing, Jack was at the hotel, either in the gym keeping up his training regimen, or in their room watching documentaries he had already seen enough times to quote word-for-word. As long as he stuck to things that kept him occupied but still let his brain zone out into white noise, he kept himself from breaking down.

It wasn’t that the other guys on the team were malicious or not supportive, it was just that they were mostly misinformed. When they weren’t referring to him as gay and asking what the difference was when they were corrected, they were doing their best to ignore the issue as a whole, and Jack wasn’t sure if that was better than discrimination or not. Practices were more emotionally draining than they were physically, so Jack just stopped talking. He played and practiced and worked hard, then went back to the hotel and pretended that nothing was wrong when Tater asked him how things were going.

The first time he felt anything other than bone-deep exhaustion was when he checked his email, hoping to have something from Bitty, and found one from his boss from the bakery. She hadn’t gone into detail, but she made it clear that Bitty was not coping nearly as well as he had been letting on. For the first time in five days Jack felt something real, and what he felt was helpless. The love of his life was halfway across the world, hurting, and he couldn’t do anything about it. A small, reckless part of him wanted to forget the tournament and just fly home on the next plane, but he knew that wouldn’t solve anything, so he did the next best thing and messaged Shitty.

When Bitty answered the skype call that night, another crack appeared in Jack’s carefully built wall, because for the first time since Bitty’s Freshman year, he was struck by just how small Bitty looked. Sleep-rumpled and cocooned in the comforter, he looked more fragile than Jack had ever remembered seeing him. Given Bitty’s first words to him in the call, he had to assume that he didn’t look much better.

The more they talked, the easier it became for Jack to smile, and he spared a thought to be grateful that Tater was still at a practice, because being alone with Bitty was everything he had been craving since he stepped foot on the plane. As much as they were both worried about each other, it made Jack feel calmer to see Bitty’s cheeks flush just like they always did when he told him he was beautiful.

“Oh please, I must be such a mess right now. You’re just trying to distract me from asking if you’ve been taking care of yourself.”

Jack laughed, his hand scratching at the back of his neck as he briefly considered lying, but he knew there was no point, he had learned early on in their relationship that there was no fooling Bitty when it came to his wellbeing.

“We both know I haven’t been, but Tater has, so that counts. He’s been making sure I get three square meals a day and I think know more about Russian history than even I thought was possible.”

“Remind me to bake that boy a pie. Do you know if he liked that Rum Peach Cobbler I made last month?”

They ended up talking until Tater got back from practice, so Bitty was able to ask him himself, and ended the call with a list of new Russian recipes to try. Though it was nighttime for Bitty, it was just the beginning of the day for Jack and Tater, since the European team had been in an early practice, and the whole day stretched out in front of them in a way that made Jack feel vaguely nauseous. Just as he was about to pull up another documentary on his laptop and waste away the time until his next practice, Tater came out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and gently dropped Jack’s camera bag onto the bed next to him.

“Russia has not welcomed you in way that you deserve. I love my country, but not the way it is run. You are good man, Zimmboni, and this is good country, I will show you. We will go on walk, I will show you the good Russia.”

It had been a fact generally agreed upon that it was too much of a risk for Jack to go out on his own, and since the only friend he had in the tournament was on the opposing team and therefore had a different schedule, he hadn’t been out of the hotel other than to travel to and from the rink. In all the drama surrounding the tournament, it had barely occurred to Jack that this might have hurt Tater as well. He was watching his country stand against everything he believed in, and trying to find a way to reconcile his good memories of home with the reality of how Russia treated people. They both needed this, he realized, and so Jack stood and picked up his bag, closing his laptop and placing it back on the bed.

“Let’s go.”

Evidently, Tater had been expecting more resistance than that, because he froze for a moment, before a blinding smile lit up his face and he clapped Jack on the back hard enough to send him stumbling.

“Excellent! We will have very good day, Zimmboni! Russia is very beautiful, much history and pretty sights that will make pretty pictures!”

Tater’s enthusiasm was nothing if not infectious, and so Jack found himself smiling slightly as he shrugged on his coat and grabbed his phone, following Tater out of the hotel room.

_X_

If he had come under different circumstances, Jack was sure he would have loved Russia. A country filled with so much history, the result of centuries of battles and revolutions and discoveries, was exactly his sort of destination. It also helped that he had the best and most accommodating tour guide in Tater, who seemed to also be playing the part of security guard, given that he never let Jack more than an arm’s length away from him. If he wasn’t so acutely aware of the looks he was getting as they walked down worn stone streets, Jack would have been annoyed by it, but as things were, he was just grateful.

As they walked, Tater shared stories, some from his childhood, some from hundreds of years before their time. It was easy for Jack to forget his circumstances while listening to Tater recount the time he was chased out of a bakery when he nine, and the historic battle that had happened a hundred years ago on the same block that they were walking down, and for the first time since the plane had landed, Jack was grateful that he had come. They walked for hours, stopping at local shops and landmarks, Jack snapping photos when the inspiration struck him. It helped ease some of the ache in his chest to know that he could show these photos to Bitty, and it would be almost like he had been there with him.

On their way back to the hotel, Tater slowed down as they passed a large old church, an austere spired building with domes painted in brilliant colours.

“Zimmboni, we have no pictures of you! You pose here, I will take. You can post to Instagram, your fans will be happy to see you enjoying my country.”

As much as Jack wanted to protest and just walk back to the hotel, he knew that Bitty would be disappointed if he came home with photos of everything except himself, and he knew Georgia would approve of him posting something on social media to show that the whole experience hadn’t broken him. It still felt like it had, but there was something to be said for the ‘fake it till you make it’ approach.

Reluctantly, Jack handed over his camera and moved to stand on the walkway leading to the door of the church, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his hair flopping into his eyes because of the slight breeze in the cool evening air. The last thing he felt like doing was smiling, but just as Tater was about to take the photo Jack heard him muttering to the camera under his breath, small phrases in Russian that Jack knew enough to recognize as terms of endearment. It occurred to him that he had never shown Tater how to use his camera, and just as the ridiculous reality of a six foot four Russian man sweet-talking his camera set in, Tater snapped the picture.

“Beautiful smile Zimmboni! Your boy will like this picture, so handsome.”

Jack just shook his head as he took the camera back and looked at the photo, shocked to see his own face looking back at him, caught mid-laugh. He didn’t look nearly as tired as he felt, and he took that as a victory.

When they got back to the hotel, the first thing Jack did was send the picture to Bitty, before posting it to his own Instagram with the caption Taking in the sights with the best tour guide. After that, Jack toppled into bed, sending Bitty a goodnight message interspersed with far more emojis than he would have been comfortable using even a year ago. Once that was done, he settled down to sleep, feeling far more optimistic about the likelihood of him surviving the tournament in one piece. All that was left now were the games, and hockey he could handle.

Chapter Text

_/10\_

2021

Shortly after they got engaged, Jack and Bitty discussed the fact that both baking and professional hockey were careers that did not lend themselves to wearing rings. Neither of them wanted to forego the tradition all together, so on Alicia’s recommendation they got matching chains they could put their rings on when they couldn’t wear them on their hands. Bitty tended to wear his on the chain more often than not, since he often forgot to take it off during spontaneous baking sessions until it was already too late and the band was covered in butter or dough or jam. He knew that Jack liked to keep his engagement ring on as much as possible, he often saw Jack fiddling with the simple silver band Bitty had bought him after he proposed, twisting it on and off his finger.

Bitty was just coming off of a week straight of prepping and filming for one of the biggest projects he had ever been a part of; a holiday special for the food channel. If someone had told him in high school, or hell, even college, that his vlog would one day pave the way for him to be on television, he would have laughed in their face. And yet here he was, not two weeks back from his honeymoon with one of the NHL’s best and brightest, and with a star-studded holiday cooking special filmed and ready to be aired in two months.

During the prep and film time for the special, Bitty had pretty much exclusively kept his ring on the chain around his neck, so when he finally finished all the work he needed to do for the episode and put his ring back on, it felt new all over again. He and Jack had only been married for three weeks when he had flown to LA to the Food Network kitchens to film, because much like his husband, Bitty seemed to have an aversion to down time. Because their marriage was still so new, putting his ring back on before getting onto his plane back to Providence had Bitty giddy to get home and see his husband, a label for Jack that he was sure he would never tire of using.

The five hour flight gave Bitty plenty of time to think about his new life as a married man, and it didn’t take long for his train of thought to stray to just how long he had wanted this, had wanted Jack by his side for the rest of his life. Even as far back as his graduation from Samwell, when Jack couldn’t make it because of the playoffs, Bitty had thought about how he wanted to share every other important event in his life with this boy. He may have not thought about it in as black and white terms as marriage that early on, but he hadn’t denied himself the pleasure of imagining a future where he could come home to Jack every day.

From there it had become something he thought about more than he had ever realized until he really looked back on it. When they went out to late Sunday morning brunch with Alicia and Bob and Bitty saw how in love they still were after so many years together, he had nearly ached with the desire to be able to have that with Jack some day. After convincing Jack to participate in Let’s Talk Day and seeing the video of him and his father talking about how important support is, all Bitty had been able to think was that he wanted to be that for Jack in every way he could. Babysitting Thirdy’s daughter during the summer after they came out had brought Bitty the closest to actually proposing himself that he had ever been.

Seeing the gentle, innocent way that Jack interacted with the five year old made it impossible for Bitty not to imagine seeing him do the same with a child of their own some day. Jack was so good with her that Bitty had spent most of the evening just sitting back and watching the two of them with what he hoped wasn’t too lovesick of an expression, his good mood not even dampened by the fact that he was left with all the cleanup duties.

After they had come out, when spending the rest of their lives together seemed to be a much more attainable possibility, Bitty started to allow himself to plan. He dreamt of a cozy house with a beautiful kitchen, of a dog and maybe some kids later on, and the ability to come home to Jack and know that he could look forward to a future of that.

Even in the tough times, Bitty had still wanted this, wanted forever with Jack. When they didn’t see each other for weeks on end, or they let the stress get to them, or during the few terrifying days when Jack was in the hospital after everything that happened in Russia, Bitty had wanted a future with him more than ever.

_X_

By the time his flight landed, Bitty had toyed with his ring enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if he had worn the shine off of it. He exited the plane nearly giddy at the thought of getting to see Jack after a week apart. It was not even close to the longest they had gone without seeing each other, but it had been their first time apart since the wedding, and that had made the absence feel like it had back at the beginning of their relationship all over again, an itch under his skin that Bitty couldn’t get rid of until he was in Jack’s arms again.

The second he caught sight of a familiar dark mop of hair stuffed under a Falconers’ cap, Bitty took off, barreling towards Jack. Luckily, Jack caught sight of him in time to pocket his phone and brace himself for impact. Bitty’s bag was dropped at their feet, forgotten in favour of throwing himself into his husband’s arms. After a long moment of reveling in the feel of Jack’s arms around him, warmth practically radiating off of him and his heartbeat steady under Bitty’s ear, Bitty finally stepped back, looking up at Jack with a soft smile.

“Hey husband.”

Chapter Text

_/11\_

If there was one thing that Bitty had been missing (other than Jack) during the course of this tournament, it had been laughter. As much as having Lardo and Shitty with him helped make the whole situation more bearable, he could still only manage a half-hearted smile at best. But that made it all the better when Bitty found himself honest to god giggling while he watched Tater trying to get Jack to speak in Russian in their daily skype call.

“Zimmboni! Is very easy, you already have two languages, what is one more!”

“Tater, I promise you I am trying here, this is not as easy as you seem to think it is.”

“I believe I said that exact same thing to you and your response was ‘no excuses’, so let’s keep going, Mr. Zimmermann.”

He could barely get through the sentence without laughing, whether it was from the eager way Tater was watching Jack from where they were squished together on one of the hotel beds or the way Jack looked ready to knock Tater onto the floor, Bitty couldn’t tell. All he knew was that it felt great to smile again, and it felt even better to see an answering smile on Jack’s face.

“Bitty, that was French, this is Russian.”

Bitty had to laugh again at that, offering his boyfriend a smirk before he turned his attention to Tater.

“It was easy enough for us, wasn’t it?

Admittedly, his pronunciation wasn’t perfect, but evidently it had been good enough to impress, if the looks on Jack and Tater’s faces were anything to go by.

“What, you thought I could train every morning for three years with Katya and not learn to speak her language? You underestimate me, really, it’s enough to insult a boy.”

Bitty savoured the few moments it took Jack to compose himself, having turned a rather endearing shade of pink at hearing Bitty speak so confidently in another language.

“But…you always had such a hard time with your French!”

“That was for school, not because I wanted to, besides, Russian is more fun. Now, I do believe Tater was trying to teach you how to say something.”

“I’ll learn Russian if he’ll learn French.” Jack grumbled, and Bitty couldn’t help but smile at the way the pout on his face made him appear years younger.

“Is no problem, I’m already being very good at French, Marty tell me so!”

This time it was Bitty’s turn to look on in disbelief, a similar expression on Jack’s face.

“You speak French?”

“Oui!”

Even Bitty could tell that his pronunciation was off, but Tater looked so proud that neither of them had the heart to say anything about it. From there, the Skype call devolved into Bitty providing Jack and Tater with words to see if they could both translate them to each other’s native tongue. It wasn’t how Bitty had expected his evening to go, but it was far better than anything he could have planned for himself.

_X_

It had felt like it taken ages, but the end of the tournament was finally coming into sight for Jack. All of the training and waiting was over, now it was just a matter of getting through the five games, spread over twelve days, and that was something he knew he could handle. Or at least, he could if his team had his back. It wasn’t that Jack didn’t trust the team, it was just that he didn’t know most of them well enough to pass judgment. That was the nature of tournaments like this, most of your teammates were people you only knew from playing against them. If you were lucky you had a teammate or a friend in there somewhere, but it wasn’t easy to just drop into a group of players like that, especially when they were considered the best in the league.

Luckily for Jack, he knew a few of the guys, Thirdy was on the team, and one or two faces he recognized from Juniors. Kent would have been, if it hadn’t been for the knee injury he took at the end of the season. Jack wasn’t sure if he was relieved at his absence or not.

The day of their first game, Jack woke up to find the hotel room empty, Tater likely already out to begin his own game day ritual. The only sign that he had been in the room at all was a brown paper bag on the desk, topped with a note in Tater’s trademark scrawling cursive. Upon closer inspection, the note was addressed to Jack.

Zimmboni, we are not on same team, but I always have your back.

It didn’t give Jack the same warmth in his chest that Bitty’s notes did, but it was damn close. And the feeling only intensified when Jack opened the bag to find a fresh loaf of bread and a jar of what looked to be homemade jam. Jack’s immediate thought was how relieved Bitty would be to know that someone else was taking care of him, so he grabbed his phone and sent a picture off to Bitty. Once that was done, he grabbed the jar of peanut butter out of his suitcase, the one Bitty had packed. On the lid was one of his signature post-it notes, this one covered in drawings of little hearts, with the phrase I’m rooting for you! in the middle.

Both notes ended up stuck to the door of the hotel room’s mini fridge, a small reminder that as isolated as this trip had made Jack feel, he was never alone. He made his sandwich on the desk, humming along to the playlist Bitty had made him for the trip, a combination of songs he recognized from some of Bitty’s own playlists, and a few French and country songs that made Jack smile as he pictured Bitty searching for them online.

Once his sandwich was made and eaten, Jack packed his bag for the rink, biding his time before the bus was set to pick them up and take the team to the arena. Despite the fact that the games were the whole reason for the tournament, with everything else Jack had been contending with, he wasn’t nearly as nervous as he normally was to play. This was the easy part, he had survived all the slander and unwanted attention and threats, and now all he had to do was play.

No matter where it was, a rink was a rink, and Jack took great comfort in that fact as he made his way into the dressing room with the rest of the team. It made it easier for him to pretend that this was just another game, despite the fact that rather than having the other Falcs around him, he was surrounded by arguably some of the most famous and most respected players in the league. For the first time, it occurred to Jack that he was considered part of that group, and it didn’t feel like it was all because of who his father was this time. It’s easier to fall into the routine of the locker room after that, letting himself join in on the buzzing of conversation around him, a smile breaking through when someone mentions the uncanny resemblance between Jack and Pacioretty, who has the stall next to his, and Subban begins insisting that Jack is far too attractive for them to bear any similarities.

_X_

The game itself is a good one, a strong start to the tournament for the North American team. They win 3-2 in regulation time, pulling ahead of the European team by halfway through the second period and holding on after that without too much difficulty. To Jack’s surprise, the team clicks better during the game than they had in any of their practices, and he knows he has the crowd to thank for that. Regardless of the fact that they technically on the European team’s home turf, they definitely weren’t lacking for North American fans in the stands, and they weren’t interested in keeping quiet either.

Jack had been expecting to struggle to keep his attention on the game, given the way he had been treated by fans and even other players since coming out, but as soon as the puck was dropped for the first time, his attention narrowed to the ice around him and his teammates moving past him, executing all the plays they had practiced over the last few weeks with ease. There was a warm feeling sitting in his chest that came from more than just their victory as the team skated off the ice, sticks held up for their fans. The spirits in the dressing room were high, the players all slapping each other on the backs and recounting the highlights of the game together, and for the first time in the entirety of the tournament, Jack felt like he was part of the action.

“Let’s hear it for Zimms with that beautiful goal in the second, Halak didn’t even know what hit him!”

His head bowed and a smile on his face, Jack laughed through the cheers and pats on the back he received from his teammates, being pulled into a headlock by Thirdy before he was finally left to get out of his gear in peace.

By the time he was showered and dressed and thought to check his phone, Jack had about ten messages waiting from Bitty, and another twenty or so in the group chat. Before he checked any of them, he sent a quick message to Tater, knowing how much blame he tended to put on himself after a loss.

You played great tonight, nice goal in the third. Dinner together tonight? Or do you need some time?

Once that was done, Jack opened Bitty’s messages, each one accompanied with more and more emojis as he had commented on the game in real time. The last message was just heart and kissy-face emojis, but it made Jack feel as warm and light as any congratulations could have. He sent back a simple Thanks, Bits, followed by his own string of emojis, which was still something he was getting used to doing. He didn’t bother to check the group chat before he left the dressing room, knowing that he wouldn’t even be halfway through responding to the guys before he would have to be on the bus back to the hotel.

Once he was settled on his favourite seat on the bus, third row from the back in the left hand window seat, Jack pulled out his phone and sent another message off to Bitty.

Thank you for convincing me to do this. It felt better than I thought it would, to go out there and win.

_X_

Bitty was no stranger to watching Jack’s games from different time zones, and he knew that it wasn’t realistic for him to be able to watch all five games of the tournament as they aired live, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty when he realized that the North American team had lost the two games he had missed the livestream of. It was a tied tournament so far, four games played, with the North American team winning the first and fourth game, and Team Europe taking the second and third by storm. It was strange for Bitty, to watch Jack playing his heart out for stakes that felt so much higher than just a trophy. He was used to the stress of watching the playoffs, was used to worrying about the end result of the game and little else, but this felt bigger. It felt as if he spent the whole game holding his breath, waiting for one of the opposing players to start a fight that felt too personal, or for someone from the crowd to harass Jack, but thankfully nothing like that had happened yet.

Having Shitty and Lardo to watch the games with was something Bitty was endlessly grateful for, although he did feel guilty for nearly crushing both of their hands during the latest game, when it had been tied until the last three minutes, and the possibility of Europe clinching the title then and there had seemed far too probable. Had Bitty been forced to watch the games on his own, he was sure he would have combusted from the stress of it all, especially given how much was at stake for this last game. He knew that Jack wanted to win this tournament for more than just a trophy, could see it in the way he had been on Skype after the previous games. After their first win he had been on a high, speaking fast and laughing loud as he recounted the highlights to Bitty, despite the fact that they both knew he had been watching and tweeting along.

When the next two games resulted in losses for Jack, Bitty had seen how hard Jack took it, even harder than he had in the playoffs during the regular season. Jack was never one to let a loss roll off his back, but it had still felt like a punch to the stomach for Bitty when he had heard Jack whisper to him over the phone after their second loss “What was the point of coming here, of going through all of this, putting you through all of this, if I can’t even win?”

The toll the tournament was having on Jack was clear to Bitty, even halfway across the world, with only grainy skype calls and quick phone calls as his only way to check in on him. In the post-game interviews and game photos online, he was able to see in excruciating detail and high definition just how worn out Jack looked, the dark circles under his eyes standing in stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, but the drive was still there, his eyes still bright. After the fourth game, when team North America tied the tournament, Bitty felt something ease in his chest while he watched Jack’s interview, noted the flush sitting high in his cheeks and how happy he looked. Later that day when they had finally had the chance to Skype, Jack had been more animated than he had been since the tournament had started, skin still flushed and hair damp from his post-game shower. He had stayed and called Bitty from the trainer’s room at the arena, knowing that Tater would likely appreciate not having to hear Jack recount his victory so soon after the game.

With the end in sight, Bitty was more than ready for the tournament to be over, but for the first time he was actually more invested in the game than in his boyfriend’s safety. There had been no incidents, no threats that seemed to have any weight to them, and the whole team had banded together around Jack in a way even Bitty had been too cautious to hope for, and he finally let himself believe that things were going to be okay. The response from people online was overwhelmingly positive, with both Bitty and Jack receiving thousands of tweets and messages a day wishing them luck and telling them how much people wanted to see Jack win.

_X_

The game started strong, both teams knowing what was at stake and wanting it just as badly as the other. Bitty had called Jack an hour before the game, just long enough to wish him luck and let him know that the three of them would be watching, and Jack had sounded good, focused and calm and steady. He was faring far better than Bitty, who was sitting in the middle of the couch, sandwiched between Shitty and Lardo and clutching his beer to his chest for dear life as the puck dropped. Within the first five minutes, Europe already had a highsticking penalty and North America was not about to let the opportunity pass, and scored with ten seconds left in the power play. Jack got an assist for the goal, and his smile was not hard to see from under his helmet as some of his teammates tapped him with their sticks as he skated past.

By halfway through the second period, the game was tied at 3-3, with one goal and two assists from Jack, and Bitty couldn’t have been prouder. Jack was playing with drive and focus that Bitty hadn’t seen from him since the playoffs, and he wasn’t the only one noticing.

“Bro, if you don’t reward him for this game by absolutely ravaging when he gets home, then I will.”

“You think he’s kidding, but he’s already asked me for permission.”

Bitty just laughed, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he batted both Lardo and Shitty’s hands away as they tried to ruffle his hair.

“Y’all be quiet, how Jack and I celebrate this game will be none of your dang business.”

He turned his attention back to the TV, and whatever response Lardo was about to give was forgotten as Bitty saw the puck come up, deflected by one of the European players, and hit Jack just below his helmet, hard. One hand came up to grip Lardo’s arm, his breath caught in his throat, but he felt Shitty’s hand on his shoulder a moment later.

“Bits, he’s fine, look, he’s skating it off.”

Bitty nodded, trying to relax his grip on Lardo for fear of hurting her, but it barely took him a second to realize that something was wrong with Jack. The game was still going on around him, but Jack looked lost, bent over and gripping his stick in both hands. He looked shaky on his skates as he tried to follow the puck, but bent over a moment later, hands on his knees and shoulders heaving.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong, what happened to him?” Bitty whispered through the fingers he had pressed to his mouth as he watched Jack try to skate to the bench, still hunched over.

The answer came a moment later as the play stopped and a replay was shown, the commentator’s voice sounding fuzzy and distant to Bitty as he watched in slow motion as the puck flew up and hit Jack, not in the face as they had assumed, but directly in the throat.

“That has got to hurt! With the speed that puck was going, it’s safe to say that Zimmermann will not be returning to this game.” The commentators went on to discuss who would replace Jack on the ice for the rest of the game, but all Bitty could focus on was the sight of Jack disappearing back to the trainer’s room, assisted on both sides by medics, one hand raised to his throat. He had barely disappeared from sight before Bitty had his phone in hand, dialling George’s number. She wasn’t officially part of the tournament staff, but it had been decided when Jack was cleared to play that in the event of anything happening to him, she would be the one to handle the situation. Bitty was sure this wasn’t the type of thing they had had in mind when they were planning for Jack to participate in the tournament, but he knew that George would still be the person who could tell him what he needed to know.

_X_

It had happened in a split second, almost too fast for Jack to realize what was going on. One moment, he was chasing the puck, focused on nothing other than breaking the tie the game was stuck on, and the next he was gasping for air, feeling as if there was a hand around this throat. His first instinct had been to keep playing, try to shake it off and push through, but even trying to skate forward had been too much for him, his lungs screaming in protest as he tried to fill them. The thing about Jack’s anxiety, was that it was closely linked to his breathing, in the sense that his primary coping mechanism during a panic attack was to count his breaths, to feel his lungs fill and let the sensation ground him. Now, the muscle memory kicked in, and the lack of air Jack was getting started to feel far too much like every panic attack he had ever had.

Gripping his stick with both hands, Jack skated for the bench, almost blindly, as the edges of his vision started to blur out. Vaguely, he could hear that the game had stopped around him, he was aware that his teammates were watching him being escorted off the ice, but all he could focus on was the burning in his lungs and the deep ache in his throat. Within a few seconds of him being off the ice, another medic was jogging towards him, pulling off his helmet and guiding him into the trainer’s room. Jack recognized her, had seen her treat Seguin during their third game when he took a stick to the jaw. He thought her name was Jasmine, but he couldn’t quite remember, given the circumstance.

“Jack, I need you to look at me."

Her voice was calm but firm, and her hands were gentle when they lifted his head so she could take a look at his neck, but he couldn’t help flinching when her hand skated over the raw patch of skin where the puck had made contact.

“I need you to try to take a deep breath for me Jack, okay?”

There was nothing Jack wanted more than to be able to do that, but it felt impossible. He opened his mouth to tell her that, but before he could even try to form words, she was shaking her head, one hand raised.

“Don’t try to talk, just try to breathe, okay? That’s more important, just go slow and try to stay calm, I’m right here with you.”

She offered him her hand as she spoke, a small smile on her face. Nodding, Jack took her hand and tried to breathe in, fighting the burn in his throat. He could hear himself wheezing, and it felt as if he was getting half the amount of air into his body that he usually did, but he did his best to stay calm. As Jasmine continued to guide him through his breaths and prod gently at his throat, Jack couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Bitty. Worry-prone, exhausted Bitty, who had already been spread too thin by everything the tournament had entailed, who was halfway across the world and likely beside himself at that moment. Not for the first time, Jack was incredibly grateful that Lardo and Shitty had agreed to stay for the last game, and he could only hope that they were keeping Bitty calm.

“Is he going to be okay?”

A familiar voice pulled Jack from this thoughts, and he looked up to see Thirdy peeking his head into the room. He was dressed, but he hadn’t played at all in the game that day because of a hard hit he had taken in the previous one, so he was able to leave the bench, and Jack could guess that the other guys on the team had asked Thirdy to check on him for them. It was a nice thought, that this group of guys he really didn’t know cared about him, but Jack had more pressing issues to think about at the moment, so he took a rattling breath and willed his throat to cooperate with him for just a moment as he managed to croak out just one word.

“Bitty…”

_X_

While Bitty had spent a frankly unhealthy amount of time envisioning reasons for Jack to have to leave the tournament early, he had not for a moment considered that it would be because of something so ordinary as a hockey injury. He had pictured angry mobs and violent players and assassination attempts, but a complete accident on the ice had never crossed his mind. He knew that they were lucky, of all the things that could have happened, this was what Jack was the most equipped to handle, but it didn’t make it much easier for Bitty, who was left to wait for Jack to be released from the hospital and be cleared to travel home.

It had taken three calls to and from George and the invaluable help of Thirdy to finally get Bitty in the loop, and in the end they had agreed that there was no point in him coming to Russia, given that Jack was going to be flown back home as soon as he was cleared for travel. It had been a hard decision for Bitty to agree to, but Thirdy had made it easier, sending him near constant updates, even going as far as to snapchat Bitty pictures of Jack in the hospital. The first one he had sent had been of the whiteboard they had given to Jack to communicate. The first thing he had written on it was Does Bitty know I’m okay?, followed by Did we win?, and Bitty couldn’t help but be touched by the concrete proof that Jack really did value him above hockey. A picture of Jack holding that whiteboard had been tweeted by Thirdy not long after with the caption He’s asking the important questions, and Bitty had retweeted it, both to let people know that Jack was okay and to boast a little bit at the order of Jack’s priorities.

Jack ended up coming home two days after the tournament ended, only a day after Team North America received their medals for winning. After he had been pulled from the game, the team rallied and scored twice more, winning the game, and the tournament, for Jack. As grateful as Bitty was for the gesture, he was more grateful for the fact that Jack was going to be okay. He received a copy of the doctor’s notes from George, and only then had he let himself relax. Jack had managed to walk away with only a bruised trachea, and while that was still not an easy injury to deal with, it was much better than it could have been, and Bitty knew it.

They didn’t get their heartfelt reunion they had planned on, at least not how Bitty had imagined it, but he didn’t care, because after nearly three weeks apart, he had Jack back in his arms. He had been dropped off at the apartment by one of the Falconers’ medics who had picked him up from the airport and driven him home, giving Bitty the medication and care instructions that had been passed on from the doctor that had treated Jack in Russia. Bitty took it all with a nod, thanking the medic profusely before he closed the door and guided Jack straight to the couch, gently pushing him to sit and immediately curling up against him.

“You’re home.” He whispered, face buried against Jack’s shoulder as he breathed in the familiar scent of him.

Jack nodded, and Bitty winced in sympathy, his eyes drifting to the angry red and purple bruise right in the centre of Jack’s neck. Before he could worry too much about it, Jack leaned down to where he had put down his bag when he had sat down and pulled out his whiteboard and marker, scribbling on it and turning back to Bitty with a small smile.

It’s good to be back.

Chapter Text

_/12\_

Being interesting or exciting as a player had never been something that Jack had really concerned himself with. The things about him that gained the most attention were things he hadn’t planned on, like his overdose, or who his father was, or his sexuality. But inevitably, the entertainment value in these aspects of his life eventually died down, and Jack gained a reputation as a pretty boring player. His engagement to Bitty had brought back some excitement to his image for a while, but even then the general consensus from fans was that him getting married to his college sweetheart just made him even more boring.

Ransom and Lardo had taken to sending memes to the group chat that they found online about Jack’s lack of intrigue as a player, the most popular one a series of different captions put over the same photo of him staring at the camera with a deadpan expression. The actual photo had been taken from one of the Falconers’ Faceoff videos, where Jack had been less than impressed when the other guys in the video had been more interested in chirping him than in the challenge they were supposed to be completing, but the internet had taken the image and run with it. From what Jack could tell, and what Bitty had been able to explain to him, the photo was used for a meme people were calling “Anti-Scandal Zimmermann”, poking fun at how boring Jack seemed to be, despite all the drama that had followed his career. He had seen the majority of the captions that had been put on the image, and Jack had to admit that they were pretty clever. Bitty and Lardo sent him some of the better ones, and they always managed to make him laugh.

ODs and goes to rehab, comes back a history major who dresses like a dad.

Goes to a college famous for partying, takes up photography.

Faces death threats in Russia, leaves because of a puck to the face.

Father is Bad Bob, never drops gloves.

Jack was the first one to admit that they had a point, he was boring when it came to being a celebrity, but that was how he liked things. The less attention he brought on himself, the better. But he should have realized that it wouldn’t be long before that reputation followed him onto the ice.

_X_

It wasn’t as if Jack never fought, hockey was a physical game, tensions ran high, and sometimes a physical altercation was inevitable, but he wasn’t the type of player known to drop the gloves often. For the most part, he just didn’t see the point of it, it didn’t help score goals, and it didn’t make him play better, so he didn’t often find himself in a situation where he felt like a fight was necessary.

Of course, sometimes there was a player who needed to be told to back off, or someone with something to prove, but those situations didn’t come up too often for Jack. Coming into his fifth season with the Falconers, only a few months after getting engaged to Bitty, fighting was the last thing on Jack’s mind.

It was their home opener for the season, and for once Jack hadn’t felt nauseous at the thought of having to skate out onto the ice and stand in front of a camera for ten minutes while the team was introduced. He had his parents and his fiancé in the audience, and most of his friends from Samwell watching from their respective homes, and it had been hard to ignore the volume of the cheers he got when his name was announced. Four years on the team, and most of that time as an Alternate Captain, meant Jack had made quite a name for himself, and inevitably, his reputation off the ice was finally mixing in with the one on it.

_X_

“C’mon gramps, you wanna go?”

There were only five minutes left in the first period, and the Falcs were already up by two, and evidently the Schooners weren’t taking too kindly to that. One of their rookies, Landler, had taken a particular interest in causing trouble, hitting a little bit harder than necessary, and getting into peoples’ faces. He hadn’t tried to start anything with Jack yet, but apparently all it had taken was Jack skating past him after he had stolen the puck from one of the Schooners and passed it to Tater.

Normally, Jack would have ignored it and skated away, but he knew it was the kid’s first NHL game, and there was something tempting about letting the kid have his first career fight with the league’s resident grandfather.

“Careful what you wish for kid, I’m getting too old for this.”

Jack let his gloves and stick drop as he turned to face Landler, savouring the look of shock on the kid’s face for a moment before he pushed off and moved away from the boards, fists up. Thankfully, Landler didn’t stay shocked for long and got with the program, skating after Jack and grabbing on to the front of his jersey. That was all it took for Jack to make a move, letting his fist come up and catch Landler on the side of the helmet. From there it devolved pretty quickly, both of them swinging wildly, jerseys pulled askew and helmets knocked off. They couldn’t have lasted for more than thirty seconds before the kid lost his footing and they went down, and then the refs were on them to break things up.

The sound of his teammates cheering and tapping their sticks on the boards as he made his way to the penalty box had Jack grinning, and the smile didn’t leave his face as he sat down, tugging his jersey all the way off so he could redo the straps on his pads that had come loose during their scuffle. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to tussle like that, no hard feelings, just too much adrenaline and some good chirps. Maybe he wasn’t so boring after all.

_X_

“Jack, the season has barely started and you’ve already fought more than you have in the past year, should we be expecting to see a new side of Zimmermann this season?”

Jack was still sweaty from the game, hair pushed back from his forehead and a red mark on his cheek from where Landler has managed to catch him unaware, but he was smiling as he answered the reporter’s question.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve never been opposed to fighting really, I just don’t usually see the point in it.”

“What made you see the point in it this time? We saw you two exchange some words before the gloves dropped, what did he say to get you going?”

Jack laughed, running a hand through his hair and grinning at the reporter.

“He asked if I wanted to go, and really, all you have to do is ask.”

_X_

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, what in the Lord’s good name was that?”

Though Jack had expected Bitty to have a strong reaction to the fight, he hadn’t expected him to sound so…delighted? And he certainly hadn’t expected to find himself pressed up against the door of their house as soon as they got home. Bitty hadn’t mentioned anything about that part of the game when Jack’s parents had driven them home, but Jack had thought that was because Bitty hadn’t wanted to lecture him in front of the Zimmermanns. Apparently, he had other things in mind he didn’t want them to see, and Jack much preferred this outcome.

“I thought you would be mad?”

“Sweetpea, I played hockey, I know fighting is part of it. And while Lord knows you would never catch me dropping gloves, that doesn’t mean that I don’t find it unbelievably hot when you do. I know that I really shouldn’t find violence that attractive, but at this point I really don’t care.”

Jack wasn’t one to argue with that, and fairly quickly their conversation ended so Bitty could show his approval in other ways.

_X_
It didn’t take long for Ransom and Lardo to find more pictures to send to the group chat in light of Jack’s eventful game, but for once they weren’t poking fun at him. It seemed that Bitty wasn’t alone in his belief that the fight had been more than just entertaining, and there was no shortage of pictures of him and Landler going at each other, his hair falling into his eyes and his fists flying.

His personal favourite though, wasn’t a picture of the fight at all. Someone had taken a screenshot of Jack in the penalty box, helmet discarded and hair wild, shirtless and smiling as he straightened his pads. But that wasn’t what made Jack like the picture, it was the fact that someone had put it next to a shot of Bitty in the audience, eyebrows nearing his hairline and a hand on his chest, flushing Jack’s favourite shade of pink, with only the caption #shook.

He didn’t know what that one meant, but he was sure Bitty would explain it to him whenever he recovered from the endless string of chirps that were coming his way. If this was what he had to look forward to whenever he dropped the gloves, he might have to reconsider his stance on fighting.

Chapter Text

_/13\_

When Bitty had suggested that they take the summer to just ‘enjoy being engaged’, Jack should have been wary of the infamous Eric Bittle Procrastination emerging, but he was just so thrilled that they had an engagement to enjoy at all that he had agreed to wait to start planning. Posting Instagram photos of their hands tangled together, rings glinting in the light, was far more appealing than venue tours and finding the right font for their invitations, so Jack was happy to let things happen slowly. Then the season started, and Jack’s schedule was filled with practices and training and roadies, and Bitty was equally busy with writing and recipe testing and filming. When they actually had a night together with no work, wedding planning was the last thing they wanted to talk about.

It wasn’t as if they avoided the topic, it popped up in everyday conversation in disjointed thoughts that were stored away on phones and scribbled in notebooks, it just never seemed to make it past that.

“Sweetpea, remind me not to seat Moomaw anywhere near Shitty, if he starts crying then she’ll be quick to follow.”

“Bits, Marty had a Sundae bar at his wedding, is that something we can do?”

“Oh, I could make little jar pies as wedding favours! I think I know the favourite flavours of all the guests. Do we have a guest list yet?”

_X_

“Jack, did you have time to look through that list of venues I sent you?”

Rather than answering right away with what would likely be a wholly unconvincing lie, Jack poured more coffee for his mother, eyes glued to the rising level of liquid in the cup. Regardless of how many Zimmermann family brunches Jack and Bitty hosted at their home, Jack could never shake the feeling that he was a kid in his family’s living room again, being grilled by his parents about whether or not he had finished all of his homework.

“I’m sure he’s looked it over.”

If Jack was a bad liar, Bitty was only marginally more believable, and that was likely largely due to the fact that Alicia and Bob didn’t know any of his tells well enough. But sitting next to him, Jack could tell from the slight flush spreading over the tips of his ears and the too-wide smile that Bitty was fully aware that Alicia’s email was still unread in Jack’s inbox.

“You boys need to start nailing down some details. When do you want to have the wedding?”

It wasn’t until Jack opened his mouth to answer his father’s question that he realized that they hadn’t actually decided on a date yet.

“Well it will have to be early summer, after the playoffs and before any training camps. Maybe early July?”

Doing his best to cover his surprise at Bitty’s rather confident answer, Jack simply nodded, reminding himself to thank Bitty later. Even the act of verbally setting a date had Jack’s mind racing, making mental lists of everything they had to finalize and choose, and deadlines they had to meet, all while the season was going on.

“Have you considered hiring a wedding planner? There’s a lot to consider when planning a wedding, it might be easier to have someone who knows what the process is like.”

His mother’s soft voice pulled Jack out of his head, and not for the first time he was struck by just how lucky he was to have the parents he did. It barely took a glance over to Bitty for them to agree that like always, Alicia was right. Luckily, it turned out that one of her friend’s daughters had just gotten married, and her planner came highly recommended, so they parted ways at the end of brunch with a phone number written on a post-it note and a renewed senses of purpose.

_X_

“It takes how long to book a venue?!”

For what felt like the tenth time that week, Jack looked up to see Bitty staring down at the cherry red wedding planner binder they had picked out together, eyes wide and pen tucked behind his ear. For all the stress the wedding was causing Bitty, Jack would have suggested they just elope if he thought it wouldn’t have earned him a lecture on ‘doing things the proper way’.

“I thought you were going to let Isaac take care of that for you. He said all we had to worry about this week was the caterer and the photographer, right?”

To no one’s surprise, Alicia’s recommendation of a planner had been exactly what they needed. Isaac Roth was everything she had promised and more, personable and calm, and seemingly not at all phased by Jack and Bitty’s hectic schedules.

“I want to help him! I am perfectly capable of handling this planning on my own.”

Jack could have almost believed Bitty, if it weren’t for the white-knuckled grip he had on the binder.

“Bits, you almost bent a spoon in half last week while you were trying to plan the menu.”

“And I reserve the right to do so again if Aunt Judy offers to cater one more time.”

Stifling a laugh, Jack got up from his spot on the couch and padded over to where Bitty stood in the doorway to the kitchen, dropping a kiss onto his forehead as he gently plucked the binder from his hands.

“Let me help you mon coeur, lets find a caterer so you can spare our silverware.”

“Now listen here Mr. Zimmermann, we agreed that I would find the caterer and you would pick a photographer, we’re playing to our strengths here.”

The stern tone of voice Bitty was using was somewhat ruined by the fact that he dramatically flopped onto the couch as he spoke, resting his head in Jack’s lap with a heavy sigh.

“I still don’t see why I can’t just be our photographer, why do we need to pay someone to do it?”

“Jack, it’s your own wedding, what are you going to do, take selfies while we’re saying our vows?”

Jack’s fingers had found their way to Bitty’s hair as they spoke, combing through the soft strands as he laughed at the way Bitty’s nose crinkled up as he spoke. It felt like the first time in weeks that they had talked about the wedding without feeling panicked or rushed, and Jack was hit with the rather belated realization that they were planning the day that would start the rest of their lives together.

“Bits, I’m marrying you, that’s what matters. All of our wedding photos could be taken with a selfie stick and I would still be happier than I ever could have imagined.”

“I’m choosing to focus on how sweet that was rather than the fact that you are trying to avoid picking a photographer. I’ll let you off easy this time mister.”

Grinning wide, Jack leaned down to steal a kiss, letting the red binder slip from his hand back onto the couch. As stressful as planning had turned out to be, with all of its deadlines and checklists, if it meant that Jack got to have this for the rest of his life, he would gladly look through a hundred photographers and caterers to make Bitty happy.

Chapter Text

_/14\_

Someone, Jack couldn’t quite remember who, had told him that you shouldn’t marry someone until you had seen them sick, frustrated, drunk and injured. At the time, he was sure he had just smiled thinly and nodded, the way he had with all the unsolicited advice he and Bitty had started to receive seemingly the second they got engaged. Looking back, however, he had to admit that whoever it was had certainly had a point.

Playing on a team together and living across the hall from each other, even before they had started dating, Jack had been sure that he knew Bitty better than most people did. But, like with most things to do with Bitty, time was revealing to him just how much he had to learn. Not that that was a bad thing, on the contrary, Jack would gladly spend the rest of his life learning everything he could about Bitty, and that was exactly what he planned on doing, he just hadn’t realized how much more there was to know.

_X_

The day had started like so many did in the Bittle-Zimmermann household, (the whole last name situation had yet to be decided upon amongst the long list of wedding planning tasks, but that was what Jack always referred to it as in his head) with Jack making the coffee while Bitty reheated the frozen breakfast wraps he had made on the weekend. There was roughly an hour before Jack had to leave for practice, and not long after that Bitty would be leaving for his late shift at the bakery. It often occurred to Jack just how hard Bitty worked, that his ‘late’ shift started not even an hour after Jack’s own ‘morning’ practice. Most days, Bitty was up before the sun, sliding out of bed with a soft kiss to Jack’s forehead and padding into the kitchen on bare feet, no doubt preparing something for Jack to eat after he woke up and did his morning workout, something Jack never took for granted. For someone so partial to sleeping in, Bitty had chosen one of the only professions that made him get up even earlier than Jack had for checking practice, and yet Jack hadn’t heard him complain about it once. He heard him complain about several other things, like the large shipment of ingredients that would be coming in that day for the new fall menu that Bitty just knew the delivery guy wouldn’t stick around to help him put away in the back room.

That had led to Jack suggesting that Chloe should hire some more local students to work in the back for the more physical work, which Bitty had of course chosen to take as a challenge. “Need I remind you that I was the captain of a rather successful NCAA Hockey team, not to mention a competitive figure skater, Mr. Zimmermann? I am sure I can handle a couple boxes on my own...I just don’t want to.”

Shaking his head, Jack pressed a kiss to Bitty’s temple, then backed away with hands raised. “You’re the perfect specimen of athletic ability, forget I said anything.” Unable to resist poking just a little more, if only to enjoy the way Bitty’s eyes flashed when he got worked up, Jack added “Although, are you sure you don’t want to add a couple more pieces of bacon to that wrap? You sure could use the protein.”

_X_

Practice had gone smoothly, the most exciting thing that had happened was one of the rookies tripping when he was leading warmup and managing to somehow land reclined on his side with one hand supporting his head in an act so smooth that even Marty had looked impressed. The kid left the rink with the new nickname of “Slick”, and Jack had left with a renewed appreciation for the guys he worked with. He had been on his way to the trainer’s room to see Nikhil, the team’s head physical therapist, about some new stretches for his back and knees, when his phone lit up with a call from a contact that made him stop in his tracks.

It had been Bitty who had added Chloe’s number to his phone in the first place, claiming that if his own phone ever died, or fell into the oven like he often joked that it would inevitably would one day, he would still be able to get in contact with Jack. Realistically though, Jack knew that Bitty was a worrier and wanted to make sure that in a worst case scenario, someone would be able to let Jack know if something happened to him. because they both knew that Jack wouldn’t be able to handle not knowing even the smallest detail if Bitty was ever hurt or in danger. Which was why Jack’s mouth went dry as he answered the call, mind already racing through the possibilities of all the terrible ways Bitty could get injured in an industrial kitchen; knives and ovens and big machinery and--

“Before you go getting your shorts twisted, he wants me to tell you that he’s fine.”

Chloe’s voice sounded deeper over the phone than it had the times Jack could remember speaking to her in person when he visited the bakery, but that could have been because of the frustration evident in her tone when she spoke and pulled Jack out of his own thoughts. Frustrated was good, frustrated meant that Bitty was okay enough to be annoyed with. But apparently not totally okay, if she was calling at all.

“His definition of fine is unreliable. What happened?”

Moving on autopilot, Jack turned around and headed back to the dressing room to get his stuff. He hadn’t even heard what Chloe was calling about yet, but he knew if she was contacting him at all, he would want to get to the bakery as soon as possible.

“That man of yours is incapable of asking for help, and most of my grey hairs are his fault by now. He tried to unload today’s entire shipment by himself, and I just found him toppled over a box of pumpkin spice mix because he managed to throw his back out.”

In hindsight, laughter was probably not the reaction that Jack should have gone with, but everyone had their own stress responses, and he was more focused on the fact that Bitty hadn’t been horribly maimed in some kind of oven malfunction or something equally terrible. In the background of the call he could hear the familiar sounds of an indignant Bitty trying to take the phone, just as he had every time Ransom or Chowder or Lardo had called to tell Jack that Bitty had fallen asleep at the kitchen table studying, or had been up until three stress baking. That was a good sign at least, if he was in good enough spirits to plead his case, Jack didn’t have too much to worry about. A heavy sigh from Chloe and then a series of rustling sounds told Jack that Bitty had succeeded in commandeering the phone, so he interrupted before Bitty could start protesting that he was fine, as Jack knew he would.

“Bittle, I told you pumpkin spice wasn’t any good for you.”

“That’s it, I’m cancelling the wedding.”

That pushed a laugh out of Jack as he jogged across the parking lot to his car. Technically, the mandatory part of the day’s practice was already done, but seeing as he was usually the last out of the rink, he planned to text the coaching staff after he ended the call to explain his sudden absence.

“Com’on bud, we just put a deposit down on the venue, it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Fine, but I reserve the right to bring this up in my vows.”

“Deal.”

By now, Jack was already on his way to the bakery, grateful that the early afternoon hour meant the roads were mostly clear. He’d likely be there in under fifteen minutes, which meant he had limited time to make sure Bitty would actually agree to get in the car when he arrived.

“I know you, and I love you, so I won’t make you go to a doctor, but I’m on my way to pick you up and take you home. Chloe can get someone to cover for the rest of your shift, let her know that I’ll be there soon, I’ll park at the back entrance.”

He could hear the deep intake of breath that signalled the start of a trademark Eric Bittle rant about how he was perfectly fine without any help, and so he tried a new angle.

“Bud, I don’t have a game until Friday, that gives us three days of pretty much uninterrupted wedding planning. When are we going to have that chance again?”

“I’m only agreeing to this so we can finally pick a colour palette that goes beyond you saying ‘I like blue’. Just to be clear.”

“Crystal clear. I’ll be there soon.”

_X_

Surprisingly, it was with minimal grumbling that Bitty let Jack carefully maneuver him into the passenger seat and drive them home. He had thought about stopping at a pharmacy, but leaving Bitty in the car wasn’t something he was keen on doing, and given his own profession, they had enough pain relief products in the house to last them a long while. Getting Bitty out of the car had been only slightly more difficult than getting him into it, but they managed well enough, and soon they were heading up the driveway, one of Jack’s arms gently circled around Bitty’s shoulders, the other hand gripping Bitty’s work satchel.

“Jack, I am perfectly capable of walking into the house own my own, it’s my back, not my legs.”

“I’m just spotting you, bud. We both know your mother would be on a plane to Providence in a heartbeat if she heard you were hurt and I was letting you do things on your own. And between the two of us, I’m pretty sure you’d rather have me hovering over you.”

Jack was sure Bitty had a scathing retort at the ready, but at that moment he reached for the doorknob and hissed in pain as he leaned forward too quickly. Wincing in sympathy, Jack didn’t try to intervene and get the door for him, he knew better than to try and stop Bitty when he was determined to do something. Moving more cautiously, Bitty reached forward and unlocked the door, heaving a sigh as he got it opened and shuffled inside. Jack was close behind him, closing the door after them and leaving Bitty’s bag in the hallway. It was clear that the trip home had taken more out of Bitty than he cared to admit, given that he didn’t protest at all when Jack gently helped him onto the couch then bustled around the house, getting him a change of clothes from the bedroom and some pain killers and the slightly illegal (only in the States, which Jack thought was ridiculous) Rub A535 from the bathroom. Usually, anyone fussing over him in the slightest, especially Jack, was Bitty’s least favourite thing, but for once he just gave Jack a soft smile as he was helped into a pair of sweats and an old Samwell shirt.

“Thank you sweetpea. I’m sorry you had to leave practice on my account.”

“Nothing to apologize for, the important stuff was done, all I missed was Nikhil chirping me for my lack of flexibility, and I have you for that.”

“You literally signed up for this, sweetheart. You bought the ring and everything.”

_X_

Given that Bitty had been a competitive athlete nearly his whole life, Jack had thought that he would be more used to getting injured and taking time to heal, but not even two hours into his recovery, Bitty was already practically bouncing off the walls.

“Jack, just let me make you dinner, all I’ll be doing is standin’ in front of the stove, hardly anything worth fretting over.”

“Hard nope.”

“Fine, then you’re picking a photographer and a florist tonight. And you’re letting me do the dishes.”

If there was any piece of marriage advice Jack had actually taken to heart, it was when his mother had told him to learn to pick his battles, so Jack just shook his head with a smile, smoothing a hand over Bitty’s ever-present cowlick on his way into the kitchen. “You can help with the dishes, but you’re sitting on a stool to do them.”

Evidently that was enough to satisfy Bitty, who started surrounding himself on the couch with pamphlets and swatch cards and business cards from seemingly every vendor they had even mentioned in passing over the past few weeks of planning. While Jack set about making dinner, (chilli, which was the only dish even Bitty would admit Jack made better than him) he helped Bitty narrow down the possibilities until they had only a top two for all the categories. Over bowls piled high with rice and beans and beef, they picked not only a photographer and a florist, but also the rental place for the chairs and tables, and a company to do the additional lighting for the venue. All in all, Jack considered the day a success, aside from Bitty’s new dislike for pumpkin spice.

“Seriously, fall is ruined for me now.”

“We’ll find you a new signature drink, Bits.”

_X_

By the time emails had been sent to all the chosen vendors and dishes had been done, with Jack repeatedly telling Bitty not to worry about helping, and all but herding him back onto the stool every time he tried to get up to put a dish away, Jack was ready for bed. Given the way Bitty had gone quiet and reserved, he guessed he was too. Which was why, when he started to helped Bitty off the couch and up the stairs, hovering behind him with a hand on his shoulder, he figured Bitty’s short temper, the way he kept shaking off Jack’s guiding hand and clenching his fists, was coming from being tired and in pain, which was perhaps where he had gone wrong. His father always did like to bring up that old phrase about assumptions.

Things finally came to a head when Jack tried to convince Bitty to just go to sleep in his sweats and t-shirt rather than changing into PJs.

“For crying out loud, Jack, just let me get changed in peace! I can handle a pair of pants and a shirt on my own. If I wanted to be babied I would have called my mama.”
Numbly, Jack nodded and backed away, retreating to the bathroom to brush his teeth and give Bitty space. Bitty didn’t usually raise his voice when he was upset, if anything he tended to get quiet, closing in on himself when he was frustrated. The few times he had ever raised his voice with Jack, they had been moments Jack had considered turning points in their relationship, moments when things hadn’t been working and needed to change, like when they were closeted, or when Jack was dealing with All Star tournament in Russia. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of what needed to change here. All he had done was try to help Bitty, surely that wasn’t something that needed to stop? He took his time brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed, giving Bitty time to cool off, and giving himself time to think of what to say when he went back in.

By the time he went back into their room, Bitty was already in bed, covers pulled up to his ears and with his back to Jack’s side of the bed. That was enough of a sign for Jack to know that there was no conversation to be had that night, so he just slid out of his clothes and into an old t-shirt and slipped into bed, careful not to jostle Bitty as he turned to face away from him. A heavy feeling settled in his chest as he tried to ignore the feeling that he had done something wrong. There was no use dwelling on it now, what’s done was done, and hopefully in the morning, Bitty would be open to telling him what exactly it was he needed to stop doing.

_X_

Jack woke up before his alarm, a force of habit after years of morning runs and early skates, and slid out of bed as quietly as he could. He hadn’t slept well, not used to there being so much space between himself and Bitty when they were in the same bed, so he had spent a great deal of the night planning how to make things up to Bitty, which meant he had a mental checklist to get done before Bitty woke up. First, he set up a glass of water and some pain killers on the bedside table on Bitty’s side of the bed, complete with a post-it note, albeit not nearly as well written as the hundreds he had received from Bitty over the years.

Good morning. I’m really sorry. Stay in bed and I’ll bring you breakfast. If you want, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.

Next, Jack pulled up the recipe for Eggs Benedict that Bitty had sent him a few weeks ago, grateful that Bitty was prone to sleeping in, given how many ingredients and steps were in the instructions on the web page. He did his best to ignore the twisting in his stomach as he cooked, there was no point in stressing over anything until Bitty woke up, he refused to let himself stress over their inevitable conversation until they actually had it. Briefly, he thought that his therapist would be proud of him for that, prioritizing stresses, or whatever she liked to call it.

Surprisingly, nothing went horribly wrong with the recipe, and though it likely wasn’t nearly as polished or well-presented as if Bitty had prepared it, in a fairly reasonable amount of time Jack had breakfast piled onto a tray, complete with a coffee prepared with Bitty’s favourite caramel syrup in his old Samwell mug. Evidently he hadn’t been as quiet as he had intended, because by the time he got upstairs, balancing the tray carefully as he went, Bitty was already sitting up in bed,propped up by a truly ridiculous number of pillows, scrolling through his phone, the glass Jack had left him now empty on the nightstand, and his hair sticking up in every direction the way Jack loved so much. The twisting feeling came back into his stomach as he set the tray down next to Bitty, carefully perching on the edge of the bed to face him.

“Look, I’m really sorry about--”

“I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m sorry”

Jack glanced up from where he had started picking at a loose thread in the sheets, frowning in confusion.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who upset you. I know I can be...intense, and I need to back off, and I’m sorry.”

Truthfully, Jack still wasn’t entirely sure what exactly it was about his behaviour that had upset Bitty so much, but most of his problems interacting with people stemmed from his all-or-nothing tendencies, so he considered it an educated guess.

“No matter how I felt, I shouldn’t have raised my voice, that didn’t help either of us. It’s just…”

Bitty paused, hand half-raised as he searched for the words. Eventually he let it come to rest on top of Jack’s hand, and that was enough to have Jack breathing easier.

“My whole life, I’ve been the smallest one. Of the boys on that terrible peewee football team Coach made me join, of the guys in my class, of all the male figure skaters, hell, I was even shorter than some of the girls at my rink. It was the same in hockey, everyone told me I was too short to play. I was Itty Bitty, Junior, even if I wasn’t the youngest that’s how everyone treated me.”

Jack turned his hand over under Bitty’s, linking their fingers together and squeezing just slightly, showing that he was listening and understood without interrupting.

“And I’m my Mama’s only baby, so she always treats me that way too, and I just...don’t want that. I grew up, I went to school, worked hard, got a good job, built up my career online, and still I’m just Itty Bitty to everyone. And with you, you’ve never treated me that way, even though I am younger, you’ve always treated me like an equal. And I know last night you were just worried ‘bout me, but I just couldn’t handle that from you. We’re getting married, Jack, I just need to know that we’ll always be equals.”

Rather than leaning over the tray and risking ruining everything he had just struggled to make before they had a chance to taste it, Jack stood up and walked around to Bitty’s side of the bed, sitting next to where his legs were spread out and taking his hand again.

“Bud, I never want you to feel like I don’t respect you, and see you for the incredible man you are. I always forget that you’re younger than me until someone brings it up, because you’re so much more mature and grounded and sure of yourself than I was at the same age. I never meant to make it seem like you aren’t capable of taking care of yourself, I just wanted to help.”

Bitty opened his mouth to say something, but Jack raised his free hand, signalling for him to wait. What he had said wasn’t an apology, and Bitty deserved a proper one.

But that doesn’t make it okay. I’m sorry, I let my feelings be more important than yours, and that’s not okay. I promise to only help in ways you want me to, and to respect your boundaries.”

Bitty nodded when he stopped talking, and tilted his head up for a kiss before Jack could ask if that meant he was forgiven. By the time they both pulled away, Bitty was smiling and the weight was gone from Jack’s chest.

“Look at us, already squabbling and making up like a married couple.”

Jack smiled and moved back to his side of the bed, balancing the tray on his legs once he was settled against the headboard. “Does that mean we can elope now?”

“Don’t push your luck. Now let’s see if that Hollandaise sauce tastes as nice as it looks.”

“If it just looks nice, I’m still counting that as a success.”