#however this is also the man who was doing welding in his fuckin bedroom

[amyisherenowitsokay]

What is your favorite thing about each of your fanfics?

This is such a hard question omg. I don't think I've ever been asked anything like this, damn. Got me pondering n' shit.

I think, even of the fics that are not my favorite, the thing I always like is writing the romance. The action is fun, creating new lore is fun, writing OC's or developing side-characters is fun, etc., but I have never written a fic that wasn't a build up to and/or explicitly a romance. I love romance.

Even when I was a cynical teenager dangling boys on strings, determined to never take a relationship seriously, I loved the oncept of romance.

My current relationship has surpassed 6 years now, and I love him so dearly that his characteristics even show up in some of my fics, whether I mean them to or not. I consume a lot of media, but my absolute favorite thing to see and experience within it is love.

I love the slow burn of misunderstandings and peril that is Dead Weight. I love the found family of What We Become and Paradorx. I love the "I don't have much, but I know I have you" of Re:MHNY. The "you were destined for me" of That Thing on Your Wrist.

Thank you for this ask anon, it's got me in a very thoughtful, very sentimental mood now. I'm going to go text something unbearably mushy to my boyfriend. <3

[hattywatch]

J. Vesey - The Importance of Teamwork

Request #1: If you’re still up to doing any jimmy content could you maybe do a college jimmy best friends to lovers blurb of him taking care of you while at a party and like making sure you don’t have too much to drink but still letting you have fun. Maybe even him walking you home or something cute like that

Request #2: Can you do a harvard vesey imagine where you meet in one of your classes.  Fast forward you’re dating him, you cheer at all his games and he invites you to all fam events, by graduation you two move in together in nyc. Thnx!!

A/N: This is very on brand (tm) for me. it is 19 pages and about Jimmy Vesey. I worked with the two requests above, which are SO OLD. I’m sorry but it is COMPLETE :) As always, thank you to my babies, @hockeyandtaylorswift​ and @xolilyxo​ for being cute and lovely and encouraging <3 Additionally, I am aware Jimmy was 21 the summer of his junior year and that he went to worlds that summer, but this is fiction- thank you for your suspended disbelief.

“Teams of 4, due in two weeks!” Professor Blanch shouts as the first wave of students make their way to the door.

 Why any professor felt the need to assign a group anything at one of America’s most prestigious universities was just beyond you, especially before a coffee. You wait for your friend, Mallory, to finish scribbling into her planner. 

“I’m starving, write faster,” you tug at her hood, but she finishes up her sentence anyway. 

“We need to find two more friends for this assignment,” Mallory drops her planner into her purse and closes her laptop, following you out the door and into the courtyard.

“No new friends,” you say it loud enough that the boy behind you hears, and he slides forward in between you and Mallory, wrapping his arm around her waist, “What about an old friend?” 

“Tom, no, you suck at group projects.” Despite her vitriol, she lets him leave his arm wrapped around her. Mallory and Tom dated in middle school, it was cute and short lived, but they’ve stayed close, the way you can when you date at the tender age of 13. 

“I do! However, I came prepared,” he looks past you, and Tom has been running his mouth for so long, you failed to realize the boy standing to your left, just a step or two behind you.

“Jimmy’s wicked smart," Tom nods at his friend over your head.

Yeah, Jimmy’s wicked something that’s for sure. Your mind doesn’t immediately jump to smart, more like handsome, but the longer you stare, you’d venture to say he's probably wicked awkward too.

“Jimmy, don’t let him slide by on his good looks,” Mallory pushes Tom with her shoulder, “He’s gotta use that brain of his sometime."

Jimmy laughs. It makes you laugh too, because it seems like he's trying to hold in the sound before it makes its way out into the open; a burst of a chuckle left in the chilly air. 

"Tom doesn't have a brain. But he's a good wingman so I keep him around," Jimmy's no longer a step behind the group and it appears you and Mallory have found your foursome. 

"We're going to get food, but I'm making the executive decision that we're a team now. Tom, make a group text and well figure out a time to meet. See you guys later," you tug Mallory towards the dining hall and wave goodbye to the boys. 

"At least we know we'll pass now," Mallory plops her tray down on the table across from you, "Tom's friend, Timmy? He's like a fuckin' genius apparently."

"Jimmy," you make out through your sandwich. 

"Right. Is Tom looking really good these days? Or is it just me?" Mallory looks thoughtful for a moment before she digs into her burger, "I'm going to give him another shot, I think." You nod, you liked Tom, and you know for a fact he's always had a soft spot for Mal. 

"You should." She smiles at you over her french fries and just like that it's decided. You're going to get Mal her man. 

______

Everyone decides it's best to work in Jimmy's dorm, his roommate is never there, so he has reign of the common room most weekends. 

You text Mal as you cross Elm Yard and she's running late as usual. She tells you she'll be there soon, which means she isn't even vertical yet. 

Stopping outside of Weld, you take a second before you call Jimmy. Weld is beautiful and you wish your dorm was there instead of Canaday, but at least your roommates are great so you can't complain much. 

Jimmy answers the phone and says he'll meet you at the entrance; you wait for him patiently. The weather is beautiful, so you don't mind; a mild day, warm enough that a sweatshirt was sufficient. 

"Hey, sorry," he huffs out a breath and moves to the side so you can enter the hall and start climbing the stairs. "I realized it was kind of a mess up there, I was cleaning a little when you called." You nod, understanding how college boys tend to be.

After three flights you're getting a little winded, "Jesus, your dorm on the roof?"

"It's actually on the first floor, I'm just trying to help you get your cardio up," he says it so dry and matter-of-fact that you're sure he's serious; you're about to turn around and slap him. When you whip your head around to give him a death glare, he's got mirth in his eyes and you can tell he's kidding. 

"I almost slapped you." You face forward and keep trudging up the stairs." He tugs your sweatshirt as you start to climb to the fifth floor. "I was a little worried. Thought you might push me down the stairs. This is me though, four."

He unlocks the door and lets you in. It's actually pretty tidy, which means he shoved all the mess away in his bedroom. You know, because you've done the same thing when you were expecting people in your dorm. 

"Tom's not here yet?" You look around before plopping your backpack onto the floor next to a plush looking couch. 

"He was here, but he decided to go get us all breakfast. So he'll be back in a bit." Jimmy sits in the arm chair and motions for you to sit on the couch before he kicks his feet up onto the table. 

"Tom thought of that all on his own? That was nice of him." You're skeptical because while Tom has always been a very good friend, he's not really a thoughtful planner. Jimmy looks skittish, but leans forward and drops his feet down to the floor. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He drops his voice conspiratorially. 

You lean in, butt on the edge of the couch and nod solemnly, "You can."

"He really likes Mallory. We talked about it last night and he wanted an idea that wasn't too pushy or over the top to start out, so breakfast and coffee is what we came up with." 

Your heart kind of swells a little in your chest, because that's adorable: two bros plotting how to be semi-romantic. It also helps to know Tom's feelings; it makes your life a little easier to know he's interested. 

You decide right there that you genuinely like Jimmy. He's a good guy to help his friend out and he seems respectful about the whole thing, so it's really serving to put him in your good graces. 

"Should we start without them? Mal's running late too- because of who she is as a person," Jimmy huffs a breath out of his nose in what you assume is a vaguely amused response. 

"Absolutely not; Tom's love life is not coming before this. It's 25% of our grade." He's right, really. You don't want to do extra work because Mal can't be bothered to be awake before 11 am on a Saturday. 

"So, while we wait... " You're feeling a little awkward, sat in Jimmy's space when you barely know anything about him, but you don't want to be pushy and  chatter his ear off either. 

"I'm Jimmy, I'm from Massachusetts and my major is economics," he stands up and waves, like the professors make you do on the first day of your freshman classes and it makes you laugh.

"Okay, I'm (y/n), and I'm also from here and my major is government… and I like long walks on the beach?" He smiles dopey at you and you notice his sweatshirt for the first time. 

"Oh, do you play on the team?" The crimson Harvard Hockey emblem splashed across his broad chest. 

His face gets rosy, but he looks proud when he answers, "Yeah, I do." 

That's when Tom walks into the common room, Mal and the rustle of bags tagging along behind him. "Don't be shy Vesey. He'll probably be captain next year!" 

"We should come see a game! School spirit, ya know?" Mal says in between sips of her coffee. Jimmy nods, but his face gets impossibly rosier and you can see the color drip down his neck.

"Yeah, that'd be cool," Jimmy smiles and clears his books off of the coffee table to make way for breakfast. "After this we need to get started. I have practice tonight."

_______

The hot chocolate burns your tongue a little but it's worth it, "a part of the experience," Jimmy had insisted. He did not mention how freezing you'd be sitting a few rows off the ice, patiently waiting for Mal to show up with gloves and hats, her habitual lateness being useful, for once. 

It's still early before the game and the teams take the ice for warm ups. You go down to the front and press your free hand against the cold glass. When you see Jimmy you bang your palm against it, your ring clanking shrilly and turning Jimmy's head. 

He waves and skates over, spraying ice on the glass and getting you to duck even though it isn't high enough to make it over the boards. 

"Hey, you came." It's the closest Jimmy gets to excited. You've been hanging out with him more, especially since you two have joined forces to get Mal and Tom together, and you know it's high praise, despite the steady tone his voice maintains. 

"I did. You gotta score a goal now," he raises his eyebrows and they disappear under his helmet. "To impress me, obviously,” shrugging you continue, “I mean, you drag me out here on a Friday night, better make it worth my while." 

"You wouldn't know a good play if it danced around in front of you naked in Dobby's tea cozy," he smiles, an actual wide smile that's so rare, but this is why you and Jimmy became such fast friends. He teases you as much as you tease him, not to mention that dry sarcasm. It gets right into your chest and endears him to you. What a nerd. 

"I've been doing research!" You shout as he laughs before popping his mouth guard back in and skating away towards his teammates who are clearly missing him in warm ups. 

"Stop flirting and take some of this shit from me before I drop it," Mallory bowls into you, Tom hot on her tail holding two steaming cups from Dunkin. She really came in handy today, her arms are laden with hats and gloves and two blankets. You take your share and leave her with only one blanket, so she and Tom are forced to snuggle up together. 

"Not everyone has to flirt with every male they see, Mallory. Don't project." She rolls her eyes as she pulls on her own hat and gloves and takes her drink from Tom. 

The game is quick. As soon as the puck drops you can tell tensions are high. Cornell put together a really good team this year, you know this because you really have been doing research. You and Jimmy get lunch together a lot and hang out, with or without Mal and Tom, at least once a week. It only seems fair that you look into his biggest passion. 

You think you read somewhere that games like this are referred to as "chippy." You're thankful when the first period ends and you can finally take a whooshing breath. 

Tom must hear you, "This is sort of a rough game for it to be your first. We kind of have a thing with Cornell," he grimaces. Jimmy had told you as much, but you didn't think you'd be so worried seeing him wiz around in the ice, hardly dodging bodily harm.

"It's fun though," you say, because it's the truth. It's doubly enjoyable since you have a stake in the outcome, and can only hope you'll all be out celebrating come the end of the game. 

The second period flies by as fast as the first and before you know it it's halfway through the third. Cornell has been up by 1 most of the game, but a rogue shot at Harvard's goalie finds Jimmy in the corner and he carries it up the ice and through Cornell's defensemen and shelfs it over the goalie's shoulder. He points over at you with his stick and a laugh bubbles out of your chest at the theatrics, but you clap and cheer with the rest of the building. 

If Mal and Tom send a sidelong look your way, it is promptly ignored in favor of your formerly hot chocolate. 

Apparently Cornell's defenseman considers this goal to be a personal affront, because he finds Jimmy celebrating behind the net and slams him against the boards. The home crowd makes their displeasure known and the ref sends him to the box for unsportsmanlike conduct. 

Apparently two minutes isn't enough for him to cool off, since he finds Jimmy seconds after his next face-off and drops his gloves. The crowd is on their feet at once. 

You've known Jimmy for almost the entire semester at this point, but you definitely haven't seen this side of him quite yet. He's furious, left hand wound in the shoulder of the d-man's jersey, right hand doing more damage than the opposing player expected. Jimmy is big compared to you, tall and lean towering over you, but he's slight when stacked up against a lot of the other players on the ice, slimmer and more wiry in build. 

Despite the weight advantage of Cornell in this particular brawl, Jimmy is the one left standing at the end. You join the crowd in shouting his name. Two syllables, VE-SEY VE-SEY, over and over again until the refs eject them both from the game with less than 4 minutes remaining in the period. At least it's all tied up as Jimmy skates to the tunnel, helmet off and mouth still running. 

They win of course. Bolstered by the adrenaline that a good bout of fisticuffs brings, the captain nets one with a minute left putting Harvard up by one. Cornell fails to tie it again before the end of the third. 

You all wait around in the entrance of the rink, it feels good to strip out of the winter wear and be a normal temperature again. A bunch of the team passes through, bags over their shoulders and hair still damp from the post-game shower.  

Jimmy is one of the last few out, he's talking lowly but animatedly to- who Tom identifies as- the team's captain. When he sees you all standing around waiting he nods his goodbyes to his captain and walks towards you. Under his eye you can just make out some discoloration which will surely be an impressive bruise tomorrow. 

You hold out a fist for Jimmy to bump, "I may not know much, but good game. That was awesome, Vesey." He bumps your fist but wrinkles his nose at you. He hates when girls call him by his last name. "Reminds me of my coach," he had told you one night after he was gently rebuffed by a pretty redhead at the bar. 

" 's a good game to be your first," he continues after thanking Tom and Mal for coming as well. You all walk outside to your cars, Mal and Tom walking slightly ahead of you and Jimmy- laden with his heavy hockey bag. They're walking close and talking softly to each other.

You bump Jimmy's arm with your shoulder and point up ahead at them, raising your eyebrows and smiling. He looks ahead and nods proudly at you, throwing an elbow back your way, comrades in arms.

Tom and Jimmy do a little bro handshake when they get back to their cars and decide to hit up a bar across town, Tom and Mal hop in and promise to get a table so Jimmy has time to return his bag to his dorm first. 

You wait for Jimmy to shove the heavy duffle into his trunk before he turns around. "Did they drive you here? You need a ride?"

"No, I'm parked over there," you jerk your thumb behind you," I just wanted to make sure you got to your car okay and weren't concussed," you give him a sideways smile and he rolls his eyes at you. 

"I scored you a goal just like you asked and this is the respect I get? Sad.” You shrug but start walking backwards to your car as Jimmy clicks his key fob to unlock his doors. “I’ll pick you up at your place? You deserve to celebrate. I’ll be DD tonight.” Jimmy places his hand over his heart and tilts his head sideways.

“Knew this friendship would pan out for me eventually.” You flip him off, but follow him to his dorm anyway.

________

It’s really lucky that Tom and Mal went ahead to get a table because the place is packed. As you and Jimmy flash your IDs (albeit fakes) to the bouncer, he walks ahead of you, breaking up the crowd so you can get through, his hand trails behind him for you to hold onto so you don’t get separated. You take it and squeeze it in thanks. He leads you over to where Mal and Tom have already secured a table. 

They’re cozied up next to each other, so you slide into the inside of the booth and Jimmy sits beside you. The boys talk over the game and you don't miss the way Tom relaxes, leaning back against the booth with his arm around Mal. It feels like a job well done. 

"Jim?" He breaks his conversation with Tom to look over at you, "I'll pay for drinks if you go to the bar?" You offer, hopeful that you won't have to bully your way through the crowd to the bartender.

"I thought you were DD tonight?" He looks at you sideways, but takes your card anyway. 

"We can probably call a cab and leave my car here?" He smiles at the idea of a loose night out with his friends and agrees, "Alright, I got next round then." 

You don't miss the whack Mal gives Tom. It's definitely not as sly as she thinks it is. "I'll get us another round too," the men make their way to the bar through the thick crowd and Mal turns on you. 

"You and Jimmy look cute together," leave it to Mal to drop a bomb like that and go back to sipping her drink like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

"Stop, we're friends," you warn her gently. "And the focus right now is you and Tom." You take the time to follow her eye line to the boys, waiting patiently at the bar for their drinks. 

You're still looking when a petite brunette makes her way over to him and taps him on the shoulder. He spins around and glances down to see who the offender is and his eyes shine with recognition as he hugs her hello. 

Without being dishonest, your heart drops a little bit. She's really pretty; petite and well dressed. Mal catches your eyebrows, knit into a furrow as you chew on your cheek. "You just said you didn't like him."

It's more defensive than you want it to sound when you assure her, "I didn't- I don't" you stammer, knowing she's trapped you, "It's just, we're all here together- it's a friends night. I don't know. It's stupid."

Tom starts making his way back with another round for him and Mal, but Jimmy sips his beer and nods along to whatever she's saying before the bartender places a basket of fries on the counter and Jimmy dips down to hug her again and points over to where you're sitting before he picks up both drinks in one large hand, the fries in the other and starts back to the table. 

He plops everything down onto the table between the two of you and swings his right arm over your shoulders before grabbing a fry and shoving it in his mouth. Mallory kicks you under the table. 

"Who was that, Jim," a deep sip of your drink has you closing your eyes and doing your best to ignore just about everything going on at the table: Jimmy's arm around you, Mallory's meddlesome line of questioning, and Tom's moon eyes at her every word. 

"Oh- uh," he shoves another 3 fries into his mouth. Mal clears her throat, a tactic she uses when she doesn't want to repeat herself but wants an answer. "She's, ah. She's an ex. I was trying to be nice. It didn't end well, but it's been a while." 

You pick up a fry, aiming for nonchalance, "Sorry to hear that. She's cute." 

Jimmy straight up snorts, "Yeah, she knows it too. We dated for a while, but she cheated on me. I found out eventually. It sucked." 

You nod, because what else are you supposed to say, it does suck. He's right. What you're not expecting is when his arm tightens around you and he says, "I told her I was here with my girlfriend, so if you catch her looking, maybe just be… girlfriend-y?" 

Slapping your palm to your face, you can only hear as Mal snorts and Tom straight up laughs. 

"C'mon. You're pretty. I want her to at least be a little jealous," he raises his eyebrows in question and his orbital bone is already looking a little shadowed, so you nod and move closer, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"Thanks, I owe you one." His arm wrapped around you tightens again and the weird thing is that your heart does that same inside your chest. 

______

After the cab drops you off at Weld, Jimmy insists on getting you back to your dorm safe and sound. You're both a little worse for the wear, but you're emboldened to swing your arm around his waist, mostly to keep steady, but a little because you secretly hope he'll call you pretty again. 

Jimmy's telling you some dumb story about the hijinx he got up to in high school and you're warm down to your toes. It's probably the beer, but it's likely the company too. 

"...so then, I tried to jump onto the ice but he put tape on the bottom of my skates and ya know, without the edges I just fell right on my face. It was so embarrassing. The girl I liked was there, my grandma was there. It was awful." His arm is hooked around you too and you're doubled over hysterical. 

"You deserved that!" You shout, slapping your thigh. Your voice echoes back in the courtyard and you don't mean to be so loud, but you're happy and having a good time and the semester is finally rolling to an end and you have found a new best friend in Jimmy and everything is just looking sparkly and happy through your beer goggles. 

"Oh! We're here. I didn't realize we were so close," you want to read into his tone, but you're probably just drunk and hopeful. It's been a while since you've dated, laser focused on graduating for these past three years. With junior year quickly coming to an end you're starting to think that you may have missed out on something. 

Standing in front of your building with Jimmy makes you feel a little hopeful, though. 

"We're going to be messes in the morning," you mumble it into his side. 

"Yeah, I'll call you when I wake up. Maybe we can grab some breakfast." He walks you up the steps and you don't quite want to scurry up to bed yet.

"Sounds good. Thanks for inviting me… us. Thanks for having us.. at the game.. tonight. And for my goal," you struggle through and he looks amused, right eye blooming purple now under the dim lights. 

"Any time," he wraps you up in a hug and leaves you on the steps. 

When you get up to your room and wash your face you decide to send him a text. 

Let me know when you're safe back at Weld. 

Because that's the kind of caring shit friends do. 

______

The semester ends in a flurry a month later. Finals find you and Jimmy pulling all nighters in the library. 

He helps. He is a fuckin' genius and his input is welcome when it comes to the stack of papers you have to submit. It isn't all one sided; his government class has been kicking his ass and you complement him there, filling in his knowledge gaps. 

When you receive a text after his last final that simply says 

FREEDOM 

you laugh at first, telling him your last final starts in 20 minutes, before a sad sort of dread fills your belly. 

You and Jimmy have grown so close this semester you're petrified that the summer will throw you back to casual acquaintances and that's a frightening prospect. 

Mal got you to spill the beans to her last weekend. One last outing before the semester ends. She pumped you full of spiked seltzer and got you to wax lyrical about how smart Jimmy is and how your heart flutters when he skates over to the glass to say hi before a game starts- a tradition now, since they haven't lost a game since he's started doing it. 

So when he's standing outside of your building, holding two iced coffees dripping condensation in the midday balmy heat, you're elated. 

"Finally," he hands you one of the coffees and starts heading towards your dorm room. 

Sipping your coffee you stay silent most of the walk before you decide to question the act, "Do you need something? Why are you being so nice?" 

He feigns a pained expression and dramatically throws his free hand over his chest. "Ouch."

"I happen to know you're not ready to move out yet, so I cleared the day to help you and this is the thanks I get.”

It would be so nice if he'd just confess his love to you so you could stop dissecting every word he says, but it doesn't seem like that's going to happen any time soon, so you'll take what you can get- in the way of a really awesome friend who's willing to help you pack. 

After you get back to your dorm, he's a dynamo, he says it's because of all the last minute packing for hockey camp, but the fact remains that between the two of you your stuff is ready to go after a few short hours. It looks sad, everything in boxes and ready to be stuffed into your little sedan. The only saving grace is that Jimmy orders pizza halfway through for both of your rumbling stomachs.

As you eat pizza on the floor sat atop the only two pillows you have, Jimmy pauses and clears his throat, calling your attention up, away from your pepperoni. 

"So, my family has this summer home down at the cape. I was thinking one week I'd do, like, a friends party? You interested?"

Actual cemented plans would be exciting but this is definitely the right direction, so you nod and shove more pizza into your face, as does Jimmy.

______

He gets the call 3 weeks into summer. You've been texting daily and he face timed you once or twice when he was skating around with his little cousins, but when the notification comes through before 10am you're actually concerned that something is wrong. 

"Hey, everything okay? You answer quickly, rolling onto your back and adjusting your hat to block out the bright summer sun. It's a beach day for sure. 

"They made me captain. Coach just called." 

You almost shriek in delight but then remember all of the other people lying on the peaceful beach, "That's incredible Jimmy! Congratulations. I'm so proud of you; you really earned it."

He brushes the praise off with a quick thank you and barrels on, "So to celebrate I'm going to do that party I told you about, at the summer house? Are you still in? I'm thinking next week?"

You're obviously so in, and you tell him you can't wait. He hurries off the phone so he can call his mom and dad with the good news and your heart jumps that you merited the first call. Not a big deal.

______

You, Jimmy, Mal, and Tom get there two days before everyone else. It feels cool, like you're old married couples on vacation together… except none of that is true, you and Jimmy just reaching legal drinking age this summer. 

You spend the Wednesday settling in, picking bedrooms you know you'll lose once the next handful of Jimmy's guests arrive on Friday night. Mal already said you guys could share once that happens; Tom and Jimmy make the same pact. Jimmy insisting that the "core four" should get to sleep in real beds and not be relegated to couches or the cool hardwood floors. 

The cape is gorgeous and after you pick rooms and get changed everyone heads to the beach and spends the day exactly how college students should behave during the warm summer; rotating between drinking in the sand, dozing in the sun, and cooling off in the ocean. It's glorious. By the time night falls you're all well and truly ready to crash. 

Thursday finds the four of you in the supermarket, trying to figure out how much food a handful of hockey players and their girlfriends will eat over the course of two days. 

"Listen, if they need more than this they can run to the store," Jimmy's cart is piled high with hotdogs, hamburgers and the like. You manage to slip in a bag of those ice pops in the plastic tube that make you think of summers as a kid and he doesn't catch it until checkout. 

"Who's the six year old?" He looks at Tom but you raise your hand. Jimmy drops it onto the conveyor belt, "Okay, if it's for you." Mal gushes out an "aww," but you ignore her, as does Jimmy, and you move to the end of the belt to start bagging. 

Friday morning you wake up early and start getting the house ready for the party. Jimmy saunters into the kitchen in a pair of boxers and you're happy you're pulling the meat from the freezer to defrost, because your ears are definitely getting hot. 

His skin is tinged red on his chest from all of the summer sun; his face and shoulders sporting new freckles. When he starts talking, it's only polite to look over at him, so you try to keep your gaze north of his thighs, thick from hockey, and upwards from his toned stomach where his boxers sag too much to be good for your health, and slightly higher than his chest, since you don't have your sunglasses on like you did at the beach for inconspicuous staring. 

"Did you see Tom? He's not in his room." You shake your head no, "He hasn't come out here that I've seen." 

Jimmy peeks out the kitchen window, "All the cars are still here." 

The thought hits you both at the same time as you slide across the kitchen floor, bare feet slapping against the hardwood straight to Mal's room. 

Waiting outside the door you catch your breath and gently knock, "Mal?" You get no answer so you try again a little louder, "Mal?!" 

You hear what you're sure is more than one person fumbling around behind the door and glancing over at Jimmy's amused face, you can bet he hears it too. 

"Shit, yeah- don't! Uh, don't come in! I'm not dressed!" She tries to play it off, but you suddenly remember the way she batted her eyes after Jimmy bought your ice pops yesterday, so you decide to give her a little of her own medicine. 

"Oh, you're not? Is Tom not dressed either?" Jimmy laughs, loud and clear and your heart practically bursts. You get fuzzy in your brain when he thinks you're funny; he's usually so reserved. 

Mal's sigh can be heard through the door, "No he's not." Jimmy claps and you decide you've given her enough shit for now. 

"We'll all talk about this when you guys are decent. Take your time." You fist bump Jimmy on your way back to the kitchen, "Mission accomplished." 

______

"Slow down, champ." He says it with a laugh, so all you can do is smile back at him and continue to drink from the red solo cup in your hand.

"Why don't you hit a fucking cup, Captain? We're losing." He takes the cup from you before you can finish it, though. 

"I will, just let me drink this real quick." He’d be infuriating if you were on the opposite side of the table. The way he shoots the stupid little ball while he's still draining the drink in his hand and it splashes gently in the beer it finds in the other teams rack, but right now you're on his side of the table and you love him for it. 

“Let’s gooooo!” You jump up and down slapping high fives onto him, his hands aren’t even up, but it’s your third game in a row and you’re really excited. 

“It’s your shot, c’mon you lush.” You hit the cup too and the other team begrudgingly rolls the balls back to your side of the table. When you both succeed in sinking the balls back to back again, the game is over and you jump up into his waiting arms. It’s the highlight of your evening.

The party slowly winds down, most of the others heading back into the beach house and crashing on the various makeshift beds. Jimmy wanders inside, but returns quickly with two bottles of water before he sits down next to you. 

You sit, side by side, feet slipped into the water over the side of the dock. 

“Hey,” he shifts his shoulder up. Your head, resting heavily on him, moves with it. You pick up your head and look up at him. “Yes?” He looks soft and tipsy under the moonlight, and even though it's breezy on the water, there's warmth radiating from your chest out to the rest of your body. You’re too tired to think about it, the sunny day finally catching up to you.

“Let’s go inside; I’m tired,” he pulls his feet back up and stands before you can, holding out a hand to help you up, which you take and pop up next to him. 

You don't think about sleeping arrangements until you walk past your room for the past two days and remember that you're supposed to be sleeping in Mal's tonight. Her door is closed and she's wrapped a scrunchie around the handle. Awesome. Tom's room across the hall is locked up, so you know it's been claimed like yours was when a few of the players arrived this afternoon. 

You follow behind Jimmy and knock on the still-open door of his master suite. 

"Uh, Mal obviously forgot our plan to share." You pout, upset at the idea of having to sleep on the floor after spending the past two days in the plush guest bed. You lean heavily against the door jamb and hope you don't have to ask.

"I mean, she's still sharing, technically. Just not with you," Jimmy takes off his baseball cap and bends the brim in his hands, avoiding eye contact.

You really don't want to sleep on the floor and you've had just enough to drink that you decide you're not going to wait for Jimmy to stumble onto the idea himself. 

"Can I stay in here with you?" It comes out soft- he doesn't look up right away and you're not entirely sure that he heard you until he drops his hat on the dresser and plants his hands on his hips, looking over at you.

"Did you think I'd let you end up on the floor somewhere? C'mon (y/n), get real," he has a soft smile on his face as he shakes his head and you finally step into the room. 

You sit on the bed and it seems a little surreal. Jimmy says he's going to change in the bathroom. You hear the door close behind him and after a second he starts laughing. 

There isn't much time to wonder why he's laughing. He comes out of the bathroom, still in his swim trunks, but with his freckled chest on display. Slightly distracted by his state of undress, it takes a second for you to see what's hanging from his hand. 

Your duffle bag. 

"Mal left a note," he holds it up in his other hand, "it's folded and says your name, so I didn't read it," he hands you the paper and you open it against your better judgement. 

"What's it say?" You really want this conversation to be over, or for him to put a shirt on, or both. Both would be good. 

Mal's bubbly handwriting just says "You're welcome," punctuated with a smiley face and a heart above her name. You hate her. It's official. 

"It literally just says 'you're welcome,' nothing important." Jimmy's face gets red and it paints down his neck and onto his collar bones. 

"Can I use the bathroom? I just want to sleep I'm so tired." He says yes and steps out of your way; you take the duffle bag and close the door behind you. 

A quick tear through the bag reveals that you have brought very little in the way of pajamas. A short, old pair of yoga shorts and a threadbare tank top that has definitely seen better days. You dig through again hoping something better will magically appear but it doesn't, so you change into what you have and hope exhaustion carries you off to sleep before you can be too self conscious about your attire.

The light is still on when you exit the bathroom and drop your bag onto the floor next to the bed. Jimmy's already lying down scrolling through his phone and when you peel the covers back you peek that he's still naked from the waist up and your heart trips in your chest. It doesn't help that he's got on these ridiculous Gryffindor sleep pants and you just want to suffocate him in kisses. 

"Can I turn out the light?" Your voice is soft again, nervous that the moment is too delicate and will break if you're not careful. 

"Yeah, I'm good," Jimmy's voice sounds rough, which doesn't really help matters, but you don't want to think about that as you switch off the lights and lie on your side, facing away from him with as much space in between you as possible. You know you won’t be able to fall asleep for a while so you open up a crossword app on your phone and start a new puzzle. 

It’s a minute before you can feel a breath on your neck. “What are you doing, why is it so bright in here?” 

He must have rolled closer because you can feel the heat radiating off of him and onto you. “I’m doing a crossword. It helps me sleep.” You roll onto your back and the light from your phone illuminates Jimmy’s face and he squints against it. 

“Can I help? I’m not tired yet.” 

“Number 16 across, ‘wide receiver’s pattern?”

“Route? Does it fit?” 

You type it in and nod, and he shifts closer to you so he can see the board. The crossword is a nice distraction from the fact that you are literally sharing a pillow and that you can feel his pajama pants against your bare leg. You keep reading out clues and he’s actually really good at this and you just want to kiss his dumb, nerd face. 

It’s a good thing he’s moved onto poking at your screen, because as he rolls onto his side to face you and get a better view of your phone, you’re sure he'd notice you staring at his exposed collarbones and wide shoulders. 

You hand your phone over, your arms tired from holding it up. Jimmy takes it and decides to lay flat on his back. Immediately missing the warmth, you huff and roll onto your side, sleepy and comfortable, tucked into Jimmy’s shoulder.

“You’re not sly, babe.” You jerk, ripping your eyes from all the smooth skin pulled tight over the muscle in his chest. 

“Wha- what am I not sly about?” The only thing you can think of is to jump immediately on the defensive, Jimmy doesn’t even look away from number 22-down. 

“What are we doing here?” he hits the home button on your phone and closes the app turning his head towards you, nose-to-nose. The direct eye contact is overwhelming, especially since there’s barely any distance between the two of you now, cuddled close after sharing the phone. 

“We’re… sleeping?” you chance placing your hand gently on his arm, needing something to ground you for this conversation. 

“We are not sleeping, (y/n).” You’re so nervous, breath coming quick and wispy. He knows, oh my God, he knows, how embarrassing, our friendship is ruined, everything is over. The doubts race through your mind, but he lays his big hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer. 

You shake your head, “We aren’t,” your voice is small, timid in the dark. 

“Can I just-?” His hand snakes from your waist, up your back, leaving chills where it trails, to the smooth skin of your neck. You nod, more furiously than you want to, anything that would have qualified as calm is long gone with the way his heat is seeping into your skin, bodies pressed together, but still so terrified and shy. 

You don’t even know what you’re nodding yes to, but it’s Jimmy. He “can just” do anything he wants. He’s so, so smart, and funny, and sweet. Unsure of why you’ve been denying this for so long, he’s showing obvious, undeniable interest, you make a mental note to tell Mal she was right, you are cute together. 

It takes him a moment, but he leans in, tilting his head at the last second and kissing you. It’s soft at first, barely brushing lips, with his thumb on your jaw, like you’d ever try to move away. Quickly you get frustrated, so much wasted time, you could have been doing this for months now. You back away and he’s a little breathless, looking up at the ceiling. You’re uncomfortable on your side, arm going numb; boldly you crawl on top of him, straddling his waist. 

“Oh,-” he’s surprised before you lean down and start sucking on the tendon in his neck, hands roaming all over the freckled skin you couldn’t look away from hours before. 

His words come out broken, and you take it as a victory, pushing your hips back and grinding down gently, “I didn’t- wha-, Jesus Christ.” You give him a break and stop circling your hips, “Use your words, Captain.” 

“I wasn’t even sure if you were interested. Why didn't you tell me?” You don’t think he actually wants you to answer, he pulls you back down and his hands go to the bottom of your tank top, tucking underneath and resting on the bare skin of your waist. You don't want to let him get away with it, so you grumble into the kiss, "You didn't say anything either." 

You back away because he’s so hard and you can feel him through your shorts and you’re tired of denying yourself the things that you want for some imagined, nonsense reasons. So, you lie back on your side, running your palm up and down Jimmy’s erection, hoping he’d stop you if he felt like it was going to far. 

He sighs and puts his hand over yours, stopping the movement and you’re instantly mortified; you’ll probably just die here of embarrassment, but he pipes up, “I didn’t- didn’t bring any condoms. Didn’t know I had a shot.” 

The laugh that bubbles up isn’t one you can quell, “It’s okay, we have time for that. Let’s just touch.” He lets go of your hand and lets you continue softly jerking him off. Becoming bold, he slides his pajamas down so there’s less material between you. It’s still not enough and you want to feel the silky skin you know is there, so you creep up into his ear and ask, while slipping the tips of your fingers under the elastic band on his waist, “Please, can I?” 

You’ve hardly said please before he tips his hips up and pulls his boxer-briefs down to give you better access. He lets you tug, experimenting with pressure to determine what he likes best.

If asked, not that you'd cop to thinking about it at any length, you would have thought Jimmy would be quiet in bed- stoic and silent, like he usually is. You’re delighted to find out he’s so responsive- talkative and downright chatty. You never have to guess what he likes because he lets out moans and whispers your name like it was created just to fall from his lips in the dark. 

He finally grabs your hand and pulls you off of his throbbing cock, “I need a break, I’m going to explode.” You’re annoyed for a second, because, yeah hello- that’s what you’re trying for here. But then he rolls you over onto your back and hovers above you and you’re not so annoyed anymore.

It’s not your first time, but by the time he gets your shorts off, sucks his fingers into his mouth, and gently dips a finger inside you, it may as well be. Nothing in your past has prepared you for the way Jimmy pays attention to you, two fingers in your pussy and his mouth attached to your nipple where he’s tugged the front of your tank top down. 

It’s minutes before you come, muscles clenching around his pumping fingers, hands balled into tight fists behind his shoulders. You’re panting out his name, the distant worry that someone in another room may hear you exists before you orgasm, but it peaks and you couldn’t give two damns about anyone who isn’t Jimmy right now. You pull him down and kiss him hard on the mouth. 

"Wow. Okay, your turn," he looks delighted at how you wiggle out from under him and push him against the headboard, crawling down to his pelvis. The look slips straight off if his face, replaced by closed eyes and a slack jaw when you take him in your mouth. 

You're sleepy and overcome with the lust you feel for Jimmy; it almost seems like a hazy dream, too perfect to be true. Big hands wound in your hair as Jimmy gently supports you bobbing up and down on him, a steady stream of praise leaving his lips, "Baby, please. My god, so good- so pretty -like you so much."

It's the moan you let out around his cock that gets him, has him trying to pull you off, sputtering explanations and apologies as you try your best to let him finish in your mouth. You swallow him down, drunk with the high of what you've just done, a thick film of nerves slowly coating the two of you as you lie side by side in the king bed. 

"My parents usually sleep in here," is what he comes up with, breathless and sweaty, pulling you close with one arm. 

"OH MY GOD!" You slap your hand down over his mouth, but you can feel the grin that lingers under your hand. "Jimmy, you're the worst."

"Yeah, but you like me. How embarrassing for you." His grin hasn't waned and you're wearing a matching one.

"It is. It's awful," you yawn loud and as much as you'd like to lie in the afterglow, but you're physically and emotionally exhausted after that whirlwind. Jimmy's eyes are looking a little droopy too, so you lay a soft kiss in the center of his chest and snuggle in for the night, his chin resting on the top of your head. 

______

In the end, everyone played a part.

It's Mal who finds you in the morning, squealing for Tom in delight of their handiwork. 

It's Tom who slides into the room in his socks and high fives Jimmy for "finally manning up."

It's Mal who helps you pick out an outfit for when you officially meet his family at a cousin's wedding, diverting your gaze with warm cheeks after they invite you to their summer home in the cape.

It's Tom who helps Jimmy select an apartment in New York after graduation when Jimmy signs with The Rangers. 

It's Jimmy who picks the ring he holds when he drops down on one knee to ask you to have him as your husband.

And it's you that nods yes, dropping down to wrap your arms around his neck and crying into his neck, promising you'll love him forever.