#RIP Eric Richard Bittle

[alphacrone]

teluete replied to your post: All Decked Out Like a Cowboy's Dream

I love this AU so much and JACK IN COWBOY BOOTS I AM YELLING

:D :D :D i’m glad! i’ve been binge listening to dolly parton for the past week and now all i can see is jack going whole-hog cowboy aesthetic and bitty DYING 

[bittysvalentines]

The Apple to my Pie

To @firewordsparkler 

From @stagemanagingsmh  

[Heavily inspired by the song Perfect Two by Auburn (also where the title is from!) I highly suggest you listen to it while reading to achieve ultimate fluff levels.] Happy Valentines Day, @firewordsparkler!

Bitty took a moment to thank his lucky stars that this was his life. Despite Kent's career, and having to wake up at silly hours of the morning almost every day, his ability to sleep past noon had not been hindered. The result was a slightly sweaty, very rumpled man for Bitty to wake up to on his day off. Days like today were rare for them - Kent, having suffered a mild concussion in last night's game against the Blackhawks had left him with a day off. Bitty, on the other hand, had his first day off from the bakery in years for one reason only - it was Valentine's Day, and he was determined to make something of it. When Kent signed a contract with the Panthers, the move to Florida came at the exact right time. Bitty, having finished college at Samwell, was more than keen to bring his Southern Charm to the people of Tallahassee. His Mama was more than pleased that it meant frequent visits to Georgia, and Coach never tired of hearing about the NHL from Kent. He carefully twisted out of the blankets, and tucked them back in around his boyfriend's sleeping form, earning a quiet snuffle in return. He pulled on a pair of fluffy bed socks, despite the slowly rising temperature in the last week, he couldn't stand the morning chill after spending a night in bed with his own personal space heater. As he trotted to the kitchen, he thought about the day ahead and what excitement it held. Bitty had been planning his heart shaped Apple and Strawberry pie for weeks at this point, had ordered a fluted heart pie dish especially. As he got to work preparing the filling, he hummed along to a song that had been stuck in his head for days, but he couldn't put a name to.

                          _/ - ♡ -_/ 

Pie in the oven, coffee brewed, and Valentine's day brunch achieved, Bitty waited patiently for Kent to roll out of bed to the smells in the kitchen. At the sound of the bedroom door clicking open, he pulled down mugs and sugar, and made coffees the way that had become second nature to him. As Kent swung the corner and stood behind Bitty, he buried his face in his boyfriend's neck in lieu of a greeting. "You're amazing," Kent mumbled. "Well good morning to you too, sweetheart," Bitty replied, smile in his voice. Kent twisted him by the hips and kissed his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips. Bitty's stomach swooped as Kent pulled away slightly to look into his eyes. "Happy Valentines day," Kent smiled. Bitty leaned back in for another kiss with a hum. "Why thank you very much, Mr. Parson. Come sit down for brunch, we've got a big day ahead," said Bitty, grabbing both mugs of coffee and staring towards the table where the food was ready to eat. "Mmm, Bits couldn't we just lay in bed all day? I miss you" Kent whined, making grabby hands towards Bitty. "Hush, you dig right in, I have to grab something real quick." Bitty returned a moment later with an unmarked envelope in hand, and slipped it under Kent's glass of OJ. "Open it!" Bitty punctuated with a quick kiss to the top of his head before sliding back into his chair. Kent, slightly confused at this point, fixed Eric with a stare and a cocked eyebrow. When Eric made no clear sign that he was going to elaborate, Kent slid his finger under the fold and half ripped, half destroyed the envelope in his attempt to open it. He haphazardly pulled 4 pieces of folded paper from it and looked up at his boyfriend, who was beaming, from across the table. "Eric... are these plane tickets to Atlanta?" He glanced back at the tickets, eyes wide. "... for today?" "Mmmhm" Bitty replied cheerily. "Let's have some pie, and then we have a plane to catch."                                _/ - ♡ - _/ Flying still made Bitty nervous, and Kent knew this. As the wheels left the ground, Kent reached out his hand and Bitty took it and squeezed tight. The look of worry on his face dissipated and he gave a small smile. "My hero." "My sidekick." Kent leaned in for a chaste kiss before sitting back in his seat. The flight was short and easy, and when they reached Atlanta they hopped straight into an Uber before Kent could even slightly catch up with Bitty's plan. During the drive, Kent recognized the surroundings more and more.  He thought, for a brief moment, that they were going to visit Bitty's parents, but that seemed very un-Eric. They stopped at a park, and it all came flooding back to him.   This park was where Bitty had asked him to be his boyfriend - officially in a big scary monogamous relationship. They had sat on a picnic rug, and eaten PBJ, and watched the sun set.   As he turned to smile at this man he so adored and loved, he saw him pull the same old battered blanket from his bag, and two containers of what could only be PBJs. Kent was completely floored by the thoughtfulness, and realized tonight was literally perfect.   He patted the pocket of the backpack, slung over his shoulder, checking for the small box that had been sitting in it for a year.                           _/ - ♡ - _/ Sandwiches finished, and sun setting, Bitty stood to take a photo of the view. He hummed a recognisable song that neither could name. Kent realized this was his time. He had been planning this a million ways and for what felt like a million years, but this was his shot. He fumbled into his bag, time of the essence. When he pulled out the box, he took a moment to remember everything about the moment - Eric's golden hair and the light filtering through it, the smell of fresh baked bread lingering, the feel of the velvet in his hands. Kent twisted onto one knee, and flipped open the box. Eric spun at the sound, and his eyes just about popped out of his head and he began to cry. His gaze flipped from Kent's face to the ring and back to Kent's face. From somewhere, Kent pulled himself out of his head and words began tumbling from his mouth. "Eric Richard Bittle, I have never felt the way I feel when I am with you. You are the sun, you are my whole life. Kit loves you, and that's a bonus, but even if she didn't I could never be without you -" Bitty sobbed and tried to form words, clutching at his shirt collar, but to no avail. Kent rambled on. "I know our lives haven't been easy, but I know now that all I need in this life is you, and us, and I know in time I can prove it to you. You complete me, Bitty. I love you. You are the one I want to marry. Say yes?" The moment before Eric spoke felt like a lifetime. Even then, he didn't really speak. He placed his hands on either side of Kent's face and and kissed him hard. The pressure was holy, both of them breathing hard. Just as Kent went to deepen the kiss, Bitty pulled away and stared into his eyes. "Yes. A million times yes. A billion times. I love you, Kent Parson." He continued to try to catch his breath as Kent started to laugh. Bitty soon caught on, the tension breaking and both of them broke into uncontrollable giggles between sweet kisses. Suddenly, Kent gasped. "Perfect Two." "What?" "The song, Bits. The one you've been humming. Perfect Two." His smile widened brilliantly. "I guess we are."

[xxlittle0birdxx]

WIP: Back on the Line, Providence, III

You can read the first chapter here.

‘What is this?’ Bitty hefted a slim box in his hands.

‘A gift.’ Jack restrained himself from yanking it from Bitty’s hands and ripping the shiny red paper off.

Bitty flicked the profusion of curly white ribbon. ‘I can see that.’ He held the box to his chest. ‘Animal, vegetable, or mineral?’

‘I, uh…’ Jack groped for the correct answer. ‘Dunno. Mineral, I guess…?’ He tousled the curly ribbons with his fingertips. ‘Just open the damn box before everyone comes over.’

‘Everyone?’

Jack could have smacked himself. He had meant it to be a surprise. ‘I invited the boys over for a party,’ he muttered evasively, knowing Bitty would assume “the boys” to mean Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster. Just a small Samwell hockey gathering with pizza and beer. Which is what he’d initially intended, but then Tater overheard his phone call to Lardo and asked to come. Then Poots and Snowy clamored to come, too. Then Marty, Thirdy, and Guy. And George. Of course they all planned to bring wives or girlfriends, or in George’s case, her husband. Then Jack had the brilliant idea to offer to fly in Suzanne and Rick from Madison as a surprise. They demurred, of course, but Jack insisted. And if Suzanne and Rick were going to be there, then Alicia and Bob should be, as well. Then that meant dinner, so he’d roped Lardo, Shitty, Ransom, and Holster into picking up food from Bitty’s favorite restaurant in Providence. Gabby and Marty had volunteered to bring a cake. That had been Gabby’s idea. She insisted Bitty shouldn’t bake for his own party, even though for Bitty, it wasn’t a party unless he baked something. Chances were very good that Bitty would bake anyway, and send everyone home with a dozen mini pies as a thank you gift. He glanced at his watch and tapped the box. They would descend on them soon. ‘C’mon, Bits. Open it.’

Bitty carefully wriggled the ribbon off the box and picked at the tape until he could spread the paper apart. ‘Jack,’ he breathed. ‘I can’t…’ He held up an iPad Pro, complete with AirPods, a keyboard, an Apple Pencil, and a case. ‘It’s too much.’

‘You can use it to work on your cookbook,’ Jack cajoled. ‘You’ll want something to occupy yourself when you’re not on the ice. Take your mind off hockey. Better than the phone for FaceTiming, eh?’ He slipped a hand over Bitty’s hip, skimming over the skin just below the hem of his shorts, then slid upward, a promise for their own private farewell. Don’t start something you can’t finish, Zimmermann, he told himself. It would be just his luck to be on his knees, with Bitty’s knees draped over his shoulders when everyone showed up.

‘Mr. Zimmermann!’ Bitty pretended to be shocked, but laughter bubbled under the surface. ‘You naughty boy.’

Jack chuckled and nuzzled the back of Bitty’s neck. ‘You can record your vlog on it.’

‘It’s so much money…’ Bitty clamped his lips together, squirming. ‘On top of everything else,’ he muttered. His parents weren’t exactly struggling, but they certainly didn’t have a great deal of disposable wealth. Figure skating had been an expensive endeavor, and hockey hadn’t been cheap at the beginning. They’d barely been able to afford what his scholarship at Samwell didn’t cover. He’d felt an immeasurable amount of relief when Johnson gave him his dibs. The Haus was much less expensive than the dorms.

‘Hey, what’s mine is yours, bud.’ Jack tilted Bitty’s head back and kissed him.

Bitty pulled away and turned around. ‘You’re already helping out with housing in Lake Placid…’

‘You’re sharing an apartment with Chowder and Whiskey.’ Jack attempted a grin. ‘Haus 3.0.’ The frown still darkened Bitty’s face. ‘I mean it. I don’t want you to worry about anything except hockey.’ Jack had plenty of money. Even as a Samwell student. Not that he’d ever advertised it. His car had been modest and serviceable. He didn’t care about clothes and wore them until the fell apart. Bob and Alicia had been careful with their money, and had set up a trust fund for Jack when he was born. His salary from the Falcs was more than enough to support them both. Jack did not collect flashy jewelry, watches or designer clothes and shoes, or buy snazzy sports cars. The furniture in the apartment was comfortable, not fancy. His biggest splurges his first year with the Falcs were, in fact, the apartment and an upgraded, but still sensible, car. His parents had drilled frugality into him from a young age.

Bitty set the iPad box on the coffee table. ‘It feels like charity.’

Jack picked up Bitty’s left hand, thumb stroking over the ring he’d placed on his finger little more than a month ago. ‘It’s not.’ He pressed a kiss to the palm of Bitty’s hand. ‘I know it feels that way, but just consider me a sponsor of the Olympic dreams of Eric Richard Bittle. Like Tide or Coke. I’m not even paying the bulk of it. George got the Falcs to kick in funding for you, Chowder, and Whiskey. Local interest story and all.’

‘Would you be disappointed if I don’t make the final cut for the team? Or if I do, come home without a medal?’

‘Course not. Only way you can disappoint me, bud, is if you don’t go out there and play like I know you can.’

‘BRAHS!’ Shitty burst through the door, followed more slowly by Lardo, Holster, and Ransom. He deposited an aluminum tray on the kitchen island, and then ran through the apartment and vaulted onto the couch between Bitty and Jack. He grabbed Bitty by the shoulders. ‘You’re going to the fucking Olympics!’

‘It’s just training,’ Bitty protested. ‘They won’t finalize the team for months.’

Shitty rummaged in his bag and thrust a Thermos into Bitty’s hands, then doled out red Solo cups. He took the Thermos back and poured a dollop of liquid into every cup. ‘The motherfucking Olympics deserves a motherfucking toast!’ Shitty proclaimed as if he hadn’t heard Bitty. ‘And as a Samwell hockey alum, that can only mean…’

‘Tub juice,’ Lardo drawled. She tapped her cup against Bitty’s. ‘He’s been working on it for days.’

Shitty stood on the couch and lifted his cup high into the air. ‘To Bitty! Show the entire goddamn world what Samwell-fucking-Hockey is all about!’ He downed the contents of his cup, then slid back down and leaned so close to Bitty their noses touched. ‘You deserve it, you short badass.’

[pronetawander]

Does Ellen have an equivalent to “Oprah’s Favorite Things?” Let’s say she does, and lets say that she has Tater and Jack on her show for XYZ Reason (perhaps they win the Stanley Cup?). 

The boys are asked the standard hockey questions which means they get asked, about their pre-game rituals (I know almost nothing about hockey so I am going to pretend this is a standard question) and Tater starts gushing about how Jack had introduced the team-wide pre-game PB&J ritual, the success of which stems from his connection to the best jam known to man. Tater maybe even goes so far as to say that this jam had no small part in getting them to (and through) that final game. 

It might even go as far as a cooking segment where Jack and Tater walk Ellen through the sacred PB&J ritual and RIP Bitty when Ellen pretty much starts crying over how good the jam is on National Television. 

There may or may not be a “Look under your seat for your own personal jar!” moment, where some audience members in awe of such an Emotional Response to food, crack those suckers open right then and there for a taste. A fight over a jar of strawberry may or may not happen in Aisle 8. 

And there may be a moment a day later when Bitty has a minor meltdown because his phone keeps crashing with Twitter/Instagram DMs for jam orders. 

And thus the first brick of Eric Richard Bittle’s Food Empire is laid. 

[dumouwin]

let's take a second to pray for one Eric Richard Bittle, who was completely unprepared for how Thick his boyfriend will get after his first NHL off-season. RIP bitty, cause of death: big thighs, broad shoulders, a wide chest, and an ass that could (and has) stopped traffic.

[michelleisinhell]

Work It Out

In which Eric Bittle officially comes out to his Mama. 

Read on Ao3

It was only hours into Christmas vacation and the Bittle Family’s quaint, sunshine yellow kitchen was already overflowing with every kind of pie-like confection imaginable. Apple. Cherry. Rhubarb. You name it, and it was probably perched on one of the many crowded windowsills.

This increased state of pie productivity was due in part to the fact that the elder Bittle had missed her son/best friend/partner in sugary crime something fierce while he was away at college, but it was mostly just because Eric himself was more nervous than he’d ever been in his whole life.

Today was the day. Today was the day he would tell her about Jack.

Jack, the sweet boy, had wanted to do a proper sit down dinner between the four of them to make it easier, but he was busy finishing up a four day road trip and Eric kind of wanted to test the waters first anyway; you know, edge his way up under the band-aid of heteronormativity before ripping it off completely.

Eric sighed and stuffed his hands deep into his jacket pockets to hide the shaking. His mother was bent over rummaging through the refrigerator and humming a Katy Perry song slightly offkey.

He took a moment to imagine Jack’s loving blue eyes and steady hands. He imagined how nice it would feel to bring Jack home with him for the holidays. To snuggle close on the couch watching movies while Moo Maw snored in the background. To lovingly stare at each other across the hall and lean in close at dinnertime and pick food off of each other’s plates without worrying about what anyone might think.

The only way to get to that point was to tell them.

He sucked in a deep breath.

“Mama, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Something in his tone must have alerted Suzanne to his nerves because she retreated from the refrigerator without the milk she’d been looking for and turned to him with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong Dicky?”

“Nothing’s wrong mama, I promise.” Eric plastered on his fakest most accommodating smile. “Just some...developments.”

Suzanne folded her arms across her chest. “You didn’t get another concussion did you? Because I swear--”

“I’m seeing someone,” Eric blurted, stopping her mid-lecture.

“Oh,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She followed with a tentative, “What’s her name?”

Eric’s heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze at the word ‘her’. He didn’t really know how to continue, but like always, Suzanne sensed her son’s hesitation and wrapped him up in a hug.

“Whoever it is honey, you can tell me,” she whispered in his ear. “As long as you’re happy. That’s all that matters.”

Eric breathed in deeply. She still smelled like cinnamon from the cobbler they’d made hours ago.

“I’m not dating a girl Mama.” He said, pulling away.

Suzanne was quiet for a moment, processing. Then her eyes narrowed and she was nodding. “Okay,” she said. “Okay yeah. I was wondering about that.”

Eric hid his face in his hands. “Am I really that obvious?”

Suzanne gave him a wry smile. “No. Your aunt Prudence told me you mentioned something about it on your blog, but I wasn’t sure if I should believe her or not. You know how she gets about gossip, bless her heart.”

“You’re not upset with me?”

Suzanne smoothed back his hair. “Of course not my love. I’m a little upset that you felt like you had to hide it from me, but I understand. Thank you for finally letting me know.”

Tears started falling down Eric’s cheeks. “I don’t know how to tell Coach.”

Suzanne pulled up a chair from the island and practically forced her crying son into it.

“Sweetheart,” she cooed, leaning over him. “You’re daddy loves you no matter what. You know that?”

“He’s gonna be so disappointed in me.” The words came out mangled and broken with sobs. His greatest fear, put into words for the very first time.

“He won't be.” She said it like a fact instead of a promise.

Eric nodded and leaned back in his chair until the sniffling subsided. Suzanne handed him a tissue that materialized out of nowhere via some sort of mom magic. He loudly blew his nose into it.

“So,” she said, tapping her nails on the edge of the countertop. “Who’s the lucky boy? Is it the cute goalkeeper you’re always going on about?”

Eric choked on a laugh.

“No, not Chowder. He’s got a girlfriend. It is someone from the team though. It’s uh, well you’ve actually met him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not Adam or Justin?”

Eric shook his head. “No, not them.”

His mother’s eyes suddenly went wild with panic. “Not…”

“No mother. I’m not dating Sh-- I mean, Mr. Crappy.” Bitty shuddered at the very thought. Not that Shitty wasn’t great or anything, but reciprocated romantic love from Mr. Knight was not something that many people (besides Lardo) were likely to survive. “It’s Jack Mom. I’m dating Jack.”

Suzanne cracked a grin. “That’s funny sweetheart, but seriously. Who is it? I’m running out of ideas.”

Eric threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Moooooom. Coming out is hard enough without you discrediting me.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to discredit you if you’d just tell me the truth!”

A flash of white hot irritation sparked  in Eric’s chest. “Wait here.” He demanded, hopping off the chair and running to retrieve his phone from it’s spot next to the powder blue kitchenaid mixer. Sitting back down, he made a huge show of opening up facetime and calling his boyfriend. Jack answered on the third ring, shirtless and flushed, likely just getting done with drills or warm ups or something. There was a wall of lockers situated behind him, but the room seemed a touch too quiet to be filled with professional athletes.

Jack smiled up at him. “Hey Bits, what’s up?”

“Who all’s there with you?” Eric demanded in lieu of a hello.

“Uh, just Marty, Randy and Tater, why?”

Eric angled the phone closer so that his mom could see the screen and said, “Jack Zimmermann will you please tell my mother that you’re dating me?”

There was a chorus of whistles and oohs from the boys, including one very enthusiastic “Hi Bee tee” from Tater. Bitty couldn’t bring himself to care about that right now.

Jack cleared his throat. He was good and flustered, “Bits, I thought we agreed that you wanted to be the one to tell her.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “I did. She doesn’t believe me.”

Jack had the nerve to chuckle. The boys in the background were downright cackling.

Eric scowled at him. “Oh you think that’s funny, do you mister Zimmermann?”

Jack smiled sheepishly. “Maybe a little bit. Put her on the phone.”

Eric turned and beckoned his mother closer, handing over the device. She took it, though it was already clear from the stunned look on her face that she believed them.

“Hi Mrs. Bittle,” Jack said brightly as if he weren’t half naked and having an embarrassing personal conversation in the middle of a locker room full of his peers. “I know it might seem hard to believe since he’s way out of my league and all, but I’ve been dating your son for almost nine months now. Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“Oh, wow,” she said giggling. “This is really happening. Dicky, take the phone I think I might faint.”

“Don’t be so dramatic mother,” he huffed snatching back the phone.

He was once again staring at Jack’s handsome and slightly bemused face.

“Anything else, Bits?”

“Nope. That will be all. Thanks honey. And, uh, I’m sorry in advance for all the chirping.”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Love you.”

“I love you too. Talk to you later.”

Eric hung up to the resounding sound of the word “Fiiiiiiiiiiiine” echoing throughout the locker room. He’d probably just cost Jack a good three hundred dollars. He was going to have to make that up to him next time he saw him.

He was already looking forward to it actually...

“Do you believe me now, mother?” Eric asked, pocketing his phone.

His mother was smiling with manic girlish delight. “Honey, you’re dating an actual prince. A hockey prince. This is unbelievable.” Then her eyes widened even further. “Wait, were you already dating when he visited you last summer?!”

“Yes. Just barely. Jack told me how he felt at his graduation and he didn’t want to wait a whole three months to see me again so he arranged a visit.”

“That’s so romantic! Did you boys do anything for valentine's day? Tell me everything.”

Eric had to admit, despite his initial fears and roller coaster of emotions, it felt really good to gush about Jack to someone who was just as excited about it as he was. He was about halfway through describing the roses when the smoke detectors went off.

“The tart!” They both gasped, racing for the oven. Smoke was wafting out of it and disappearing up into the high-beamed ceiling.

Eric put on oven mitts, yanked the door open and coughed his way through to the completely charred tart on the center rack.  

“Whoops,” Eric said.

Suzanne laughed. “Yeah, whoops. You picked a doozy of a time to come out Dicky.”

Eric looked up at his mother’s warm and loving eyes and smiled to himself. “No,” he said. “It was perfect.”

Suzanne patted him on the shoulder and retrieved the ruined tart from him with an old dishrag. “I’ll take care of this,” she said confidently. “You go talk to your father.”

Eric’s heart sank. “Mama…”

“Eric Richard Bittle you go down to the den and tell your father about your boyfriend right now. I know you’re scared, but he’ll be happy for you. Literally as far as serious relationships go I don’t think you could have picked anyone more impressive to your father than a professional athlete. Might wanna lead with that.”

She set the tart down on the stovetop and gave him a little shove toward the door. She was stronger than she looked.

Eric allowed his feet to carry him all the way to the den without stopping. His heart was thundering so hard in his ears that he could hardly hear anything else.

But if he didn’t do it now, he never would.

He sucked in a breath and tried to pretend that he was gearing up for a game and not a potentially disastrous conversation before rapping his knuckles once against the doorframe and poking his head inside.

“Daddy, can I talk to you for a minute?”

[bmwiid]

It’s not even that Bitty doesn’t think he’s cute, because plenty of people think Bitty is cute. Hell, he’s got a vlog - over half his audience call him ‘adorable’ and the rest use words like ‘nice boy’ and ‘such a sweetheart’ 

He carefully retakes, crops and filters his selfies so that he (and whomever he is with) always look their best, and he is aware that he’s got a great body - he has to, what with the hockey and all. 

Not that anyone would know about the great body though, because it’s not like anyone has ever made a damn move to get their hands on it. 

Or so he thinks.

“Jesus christ, Brendon, just ask him the fuck out already.” Toby hisses as the football team stop to watch Bitty jog past with the rest of the hockey team. It’s the same time each day during the hockey season, and there isn’t a sporting team on campus who isn’t aware of exactly the time that speedy number 15 jogs past the lake in those tight *short* shorts. It’s not even fair, because Brendon now knows that his name is Richard Eric Bittle and his dad’s a freaking coach, which means that there is a really good chance that Eric knows about football. It’s not that he was stalking him or anything - not like the losers on the LAX team did. All Brendon had to do was look at his friends list, find Justin and then look at *his* friends. That wasn’t stalking. 

There had been a picture of Bitty at a football game back down south. Holding a beer and looking good enough to eat, “Game day with coach!” and well - it hadn’t taken him too long to work out that coach was Eric's dad and... and... 

“Are you going to ask him out or not?” Steve asks, watching the Hockey team jog past. “Because you might be captain an all, but I saw him first an we’re both good southern boys an-”

“You’re from Carolina.” Toby scoffs. “He probably would hate your guts.”

“I bet he doesn’t hate anyone.” Archie murmurs. “I bet.” His voice is a little dreamy, and Brendon wants to smack every single one of them. He’s about to tell them so, but then his eye gets caught by...

“Aww here we fuckin’ go.”

-

The LAX team hate the Hockey team. It’s a time honoured, universal thing. Neither side really remember, or care, what started it, but if Chad has anything to do with it, it’s over. It was over the moment he saw Eric Bittle walk up to the Haus with the rest of the freshers. He’d walked into a tree, and he was gonna get ripped for it, before Chaddy saw what had grabbed his attention so hard.

Now they were glaring at the fucking football team because fuck sake, they didn’t manage to get to the green on time and those fuckers had the prime spot. A nice bit of flat where they could ‘practice’ - but also directly in the middle of the circular route that the Hockey team took. Which meant, of course...

“Jesus, he’s got his fade back.” Chaddy whimpers and three heads snap around to watch as Eric jogs away. He keeps up with the rest of the overgrown man-children on his team, even though he’s by far the smaller, and more compact, with that tight little butt that Chad has a list of things he’d like to bounce off it just to see if it was as toned as it looked. He’s seen Eric in the shortest shorts known to man (living so close to the Haus was worth it) and he’s seen Eric dance at the kitchen window and... shit but that boy can move. 

“You think I could convince Whiskers to give me his number?” Chadders sighs, sounding a little too lost in his own daydream about Eric for Chads liking. 

“Don’t even try it,” Chad warns, “He’ll tell the rest of the fucking team and then we’ll never get anywhere.” He looks over at the football team who are back to half heartedly tossing a ball back and forth in the prime spot - waiting for the second circuit, no doubt, when...

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

-

“Shit, we missed the first round!” Josh whined, looking at the too small forms of the Hockey team as they disappeared around the bend of the lake. “He looks so good in the first round.”

“I like it when he’s glowing. Third. Fourth, if that captain of theirs is really pushing it.” 

The Samwell men's volleyball team nodded. They didn’t need the prime spot that the football team had obviously managed to snag before the LAX boys showed up - they had an in that they weren’t afraid to use. The Samwell Ladies Volleyball Team. Notably, Farmer and March. They were invited to every Haus party and therefor the mens team could easily tag along. Which they did. Because even Kevin (the only straight guy on the team) understood that Bitty was something special - and the food... god, the food. They were lucky that the LAX team were so hated, because they had a prime location right across the damn street from the Haus, and that would be hard to combat should one of them actually manage to get Bitty alone.

And that was the problem.

Bitty was never freaking alone. How was a guy supposed to ask him out when it was impossible to get him alone?

He walked to classes with Ransom & Holster, he got coffee with Jack, or Cait - he studied with the team in the library, he sat in the quad with Larissa and Chowder - or he was in the Haus. With everyone else. And then, of course, he’d gone to screw with that fucking asshole.

-

If there was one team that was hated beyond a shadow of a doubt by any of the wide variety of athletes at Samwell - it was the Rugby Team. They were openly despised by the football team, who referred to them as ‘cheap imitation footballers’ which normally ended up in a fistfight that never seemed to have a clear winner, but at least it normally always result in that fucking asshole getting a black eye. 

The LAX team ‘accidently’ pelted them with balls if they were within 100 yards of their practice space - or the prime spot on the green - and weirdly enough, that fucking asshole was always the one who would limp away. It gave the swimteam no end of joy - they weren’t really in a position to do much except glare.

Because that fucking asshole had a chance. He had a chance with Eric. And he fucked it up. Eric was actually going to start dating. Dating people! Opening the doors to dating other people who weren’t that fucking asshole. 

And then, at Annie's, in full view of the Samwell Dance Troupe, he’d tried to kiss Eric waaaaay before Eric was giving off ‘kiss me’ signals and fucked it up for the rest of the desperately thirsty gay men of Samwell. 

Because Eric hadn’t dated anyone since - and even Justin and Adam had stopped trying to set him up - limiting the chances of anyone getting near enough to even ask. 

Not that people had stopped trying - but it was... awkward.... when you’d just managed to get enough courage to walk up to Eric, say hi - even - and then suddenly be face-to-face with Samwells Most Beautiful Hockey Captain. No one was really able to work up the nerve when Jack was around. Why would Bitty even look at them with that ass in the immediate vicinity?

The only good thing was that in a few weeks, Jack was graduating. 

Oh happy, happy days! 

[lady-pei]

breaking news: eric richard bittle officially KOs his boyfriend in an unseen act of [REDACTED] on december 20th 2015 rip jacques he lived a good life