#mentioned bob zimmermann

[zimbits-my-love]

Here we are again

It's been eight years since the start

Now I barely call you a friend or an acquaintance

Break or Bury - Sunsleeper

Alt version:

[doggernaut]

Thank you to @parvuls for the BINGO card and motivation to do this. I love fic, and I love sharing fic recs (and I love hunting down fics for people!), especially those that fly under the radar. I think there's a good mix of "classics" and what I hope will become new favorites for people in here.

(I'm going for the blackout here, folks, but will post one line at a time because I just got back from one trip and am trying to plan another (not to mention catch up on everything I put off during the week I was away), and putting these rec lists together is time consuming. )

genfic (no ships) • Atwater Market by WrathoftheStag (@wrathofthestag)

I love this little fic about Bitty and Bob bonding as they shop for dinner. There's something really satisfying about reading about positive relationships between a character and their partner's family members, and I love that Bitty and Bad Bob have their own "thing" they're able to connect over that has nothing to do with Jack. @wrathofthestag also writes so evocatively about cities and food; when I can’t travel, her fics scratch that itch.

crossover • And the Day Winding Like Dreams by HugeAlienPie (@hugealienpie)

This is less a crossover than it is a fic inspired by Inception, though characters from that movie are mentioned in passing. What this is is a fic that takes Inception’s world building and skillfully transfers it to a post-canon SMH fic that’s also a heist AU and an incredibly romantic getting together story. Read it even if you aren’t familiar with Inception; I did and I loved it, and when I finally saw the movie it was that much easier to follow because I’d read this fic.

hurts so good • This Unsheltered Place  by westernredcedar (@thewesternredcedar)

Buckle up and brace yourself because this is it, the ultimate angst fic. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read this fic and still have to skim the first few chapters because they’re so painful. But, painful in w way that poking at a bruise is kind of satisfying. Despite the pain, this is one of my top five fics of all time. Yes, there is a breakup, but the coming back together is so satisfying and, because of the way it happens, feels so earned. This is also a wonderful Jack Zimmermann character study that delves into his anxieties and insecurities (a thing that @thewesternredcedar is so so good at in every fic). His decisions in this fic aren’t always the best decisions but they always make sense, and that’s largely because the author is so skillful at making the reader to see Bitty through Jack’s eyes. (Mind the tags, because I mean it when I say this one can be rough.)

still a WIP • It's Only a Change of Time  by Sophia_Prester (@missweber)

I don't want to say too much about this time loop fic but that's because 23 (out of a projected 25) chapters in, I still can't begin to guess how it's going to end. It's a time loop and a mystery and there's a bit of hockey history and Jack Zimmermann/Zimmermann family backstory thrown in as well. Johnson is there. Through it all, it's Jack's love for Bitty and the life he wants to build with him that drives him to do what he does. Over and over again. This fic is so well thought out and executed. As soon as it finishes I plan to read it all over again from the beginning because I know I'll see things I missed the first time around.

you read it instead of sleeping • Heart of Ice by flowerfan (@flowerfan2)

This is a 55K fic that I read in one night. I couldn’t put it down. Without giving too much away, it’s a mystery of sorts that begins with Jack disappearing. I read this straight through because I couldn’t sleep without knowing why Jack left. The chapters depicting the months Bitty spends alone, grieving the end of his relationship and forging ahead with his post-college life, felt as long to me as they must have to him. As the story progresses the reason for Jack’s disappearance, and the way he and Bitty navigate their new normal upon his return, is slowly revealed. This fic is so well-crafted and though an AU, it has all of the elements of a classic Zimbits fic: their love for one another despite the apparent obstacles, and Bitty’s kindness and belief in Jack, are its foundation. 

[omgcpausandstuff]

The True Test of Civilization

Imagine if you will, that Bad Bob has this old teammate; a goalie, but one who is even weirder most goalies. He’s got a Russian accent and he claims to be from this little fishing village that no one has ever heard of and Bob hasn’t been able to find on any map, even when he tried to look it up. Other Russians have never heard of it, or if they have they say it’s a place from a fairy story - like saying your hometown is Camelot. If you get a few drinks in him the stories he tells about it are wild but in a weird way; like, if Bobby was going to tell some made up story where he met a vampire the whole point of the story would be that he met a vampire, he wouldn’t just casually mention halfway through the story “now you have to imagine all this taking place at night, seeing as he is vampire and sensitive to such things” and continue like this is a totally reasonable thing to say. Sometimes there are talking rats. One time his family’s fishing boat caught an octopus the size of a whale.

Anyways, funny guy, demon between the pipes and won Bob several Stanley Cups so he loves him. Goalies, eh? He vanishes back wherever it is he came from and sends a Christmas card every year. Bob doesn’t see him in person again until his retirement party and he’s just as weird as he ever was, if not more so, and ends up staying later than everyone else catching up with Bob.

Jack, who is still young enough for such things, comes down and says that he can’t sleep and asks to be told a story. And Bob is so grateful that he didn’t completely miss this part of his son’s life and so overflowing with love that he turns to his old teammate and says; “I bet Jack would love one of your rat stories.”

Everyone seems amenable to this, so Bob carries Jack upstairs and gets him settled into bed and his old goalie starts explaining how in the town where he grew up, a long time ago the rats there woke up; how they talk and wear clothes and have a king. How they train with swords and wander the rooftops and sail the lake looking for adventure.

Jack takes all that in in the quiet serious way that a stranger might mistake for simple tiredness but Bob knows is just how his son is; chews over a civilization of heroic talking rodents and asks the most Jack Laurent Zimmermann question he possibly could.

“Do they play hockey?”  

[polls-showdowns]

Alright Here’s the list of characters in the DILF battle:

(Please let me know if there are misspelled names or characters on there twice because they have two names or something (mentioning the two names because I spotted a few like that))

Bob ‘Bad Bob’ Zimmermann (Check Please)

Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars)

Aragorn (Lord of the Rings)

Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption)

Asgore Dreemurr (Undertale)

Bail Organa (Star Wars)

Benjamin Sisko (Star Trek)

Bobby Singer (Supernatural)

Bowser (Super Mario)

Bruce Wayne (DC)

Bruno Bucciaratti (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure)

Cassim (Aladdin)

Castiel (Supernatural)

Cerrit Agrupnin (Critical Role)

Chris Argent (Teen Wolf)

Crocodile (One Piece)

Crosshair (The Bad Batch)

Dad Egbert (Homestuck)

Dad Turner (Fairly Odd Parents)

Din Djarin (Star Wars)

Donquixote ‘Corazón’ Rosinante (One Piece)

Duke Joren Jawbreaker (Dimension 20)

Eddard Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Elrond Peredhil (Lord of the Rings)

Garmadon (Ninjago)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Gilear Faeth (dimension 20)

Gol D. Roger (One Piece)

Gordon Freeman (Half Life VR)

Hakoda (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Han Solo (Star Wars)

Hank Anderson (Detroit: Become Human)

Herlock Sholmes (The Great Ace Attorney)

Hunter (The Bad Batch)

Jayson Ferin (Just Roll With It: Riptide)

Jefferson Morales (Spiderverse)

Jeralt Eisner (Fire Emblem)

Jin Kirigiri (Danganronpa)

Joel Hammond (Santa Clarita Diet)

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

Jorge (The Maze Runner)

Kaburagi (Deca-Dence)

Kanan Jarrus (Star Wars)

Kazuma Kiryu (Yakuza series/Ryu ga Gotoku)

Kozuki Oden (One Piece)

Kyros (One Piece)

Leroy Smith (Tekken)

Lestat de Lioncourt (Vampire Chronicles/ Interview with the Vampire)

Lord Asriel Belacqua (His Dark Materials)

Maes Hughes (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood)

Mark Sloan (Greys Anatomy)

Micah (She-Ra)

Dracule Mihawk (One piece)

Mortimer Goth (The Sims)

Mr Boonchuy (Amphibia)

Percival de Rolo (Critical Role)

Phoenix Wright (Ace Attorney)

Poseidon (Riordanverse)

Pyrrha Dve (The Locked Tomb)

Roy (Don't Hug Me I'm Scared)

Ryker of Reston (Roleslaying With Roman)

Ryuuji Kawara (Hatoful Boyfriend)

Shanks (One Piece)

Tech (The Bad Batch)

Terry Jeffords (Brooklyn 99)

The Gentleman (Critical Role)

The Vampire Armand (Vampire Chronicles/ Interview with the Vampire)

Theoden (Lord of the Rings)

Tom (One Piece)

Tony Stark (MCU)

Vander (Arcane)

Vector the Crocodile (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Whitebeard (One Piece)

Worf (Star Trek)

Wrecker (The Bad Batch)

Yasopp (One Piece)

Yeza Brenatto (Critical Role)

Zeff (One piece)

Zerxus Ilerez (Critical Role)

[ao3feed-patater]

Inch by Inch

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9cDqhUO

by Betweenthepies (Reikiari)

Inch by inch, Kent Parson learns what it feels like to lose, to lie, and to languish.

Yet, in return, he also learns what it means to love, to live, and perhaps most importantly, to finally let go.

Words: 16689, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of on our skin

Fandoms: Check Please! (Webcomic)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Kent "Parse" Parson, Alexei "Tater" Mashkov, Las Vegas Aces Ensemble (Check Please!), Scraps (Check Please!), Jeff "Swoops" Troy, Bob Zimmermann, Larissa "Lardo" Duan

Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson, Las Vegas Aces Ensemble & Kent "Parse" Parson, Larissa "Lardo" Duan & Kent "Parse" Parson, Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Implied: One-sided Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Implied: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Additional Tags: Literal emotional scarring, Kent Parson through the ages, AU-specific medical jargon, Hiding Medical Issues, Bad Decisions, Hurt/Comfort, because you can't have Kent Parson without angst but i also need him to be happy, Male-Female Friendship, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Chronic Pain, Hockey-Typical Swearing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Scars, Texting, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, irresponsible alcohol consumption, Healing, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, implied/referenced medical emergency, Alternate Universe

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9cDqhUO

[xxlittle0birdxx]

He felt every one of his almost forty-one years. He'd learned to work smarter to compensate for his slower speed on the ice and longer recovery times. It wasn't quite like his father's playing days. They now had better physiotherapy, better nutrition, and the Falcs' almost fanatical insistence that injured players recover and heal. Ten kilometers later, he came back to the house, and grabbed his water bottle from the refrigerator, then took it back to the deck and dropped into his favorite rocking chair. It was time.

[p-antalons]

bad bob is the type of famous person who wakes up one day at like age 57 and goes “i should write an autobiography” and alicia just tries to smother him with a pillow because it’s 3 am and he woke her up to share this revelation. the next morning he immediately starts writing it, only to realize he literally knows nothing about writing and has to take a step back and call an agent for help. jack doesn’t find out he’s writing one bc bob has forgotten to mention it to everyone he knows so he literally finds out through twitter with about half the hockey world, including all of bob’s famous retired friends who all send confused congratulations. he also announces that he’s going on a book tour with that ON TWITTER and immediately picks the weirdest set of cities to visit. after tweeting that, he immediately goes on a fishing trip and can’t be reached for about nine hours, as his phone is being blown up by everyone and everything. alicia thinks the entire affair is a comedy and encourages it

[checkdeezpucks]

I see all the bob and Alicia have a loving yet unusual marriage posts, and I offer Bob and Alicia had an incredibly Normal and Perfect marriage. It’s so so Normal and Perfect, haven’t you seen the magazines?

They met due to the circles of fame intersecting. Bad Bob of hockey royalty, and Alicia of the newest Hollywood name having a Perfect Whirlwind romance, followed by the white wedding of the season. The tabloids loved how Normal and Perfect they were despite all the fame. Bob with his hockey greatness and Alicia with her award studded acting career. They looked so good together, and they had Jack because Perfect families have Perfect children. And weren’t they lucky to have a son? Their perfect boy, so eager to do the right thing and please his nanny, his parents, his coach? To make their perfect family proud? Alicia makes her movies and Bob makes his goals, and Jack is raised by a revolving door of Nannies who fade politely into the background when Bob and Alicia can spare the time for parenting.

Jack gets older, a latchkey kid with a famous family and hockey to keep him occupied. And Jack is good at hockey, he loves hockey, he loves how hockey makes his family proud. And he gets older, and keeps getting better and better. And if sometimes Jack’s a little distant, perhaps a little anxious, the doctors have the meds for that. And Bob and Alicia don’t have to worry about it, because their family is Perfect and the tabloids love them, and their house is Perfect in the magazines, and Jack is succeeding. And if Bob and Alicia sometimes find themselves as strangers, passing one another in their perfect hallways, passing their son as he passes them by too, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that their marriage feels hollow because the magazines think they’re perfect and all their family and friends think they’re perfect too.

And they are perfect. Until the draft happens, and the veneer that has kept their lives a bubble of denial is torn away with an overdose and a son who might not make it past the night. And Bob and Alicia realise that they haven’t been perfect, that their family isn’t perfect. But moreover, they realise that actually, they don’t need to be perfect. Their family only needs to be happy, and that starts with their marriage, and it starts with being there, properly, for their son.

And it’s only by trying to pull each other close to heal all the wrongs do Alicia and Bob find that their marriage becomes unusual but loving. They accept that their son is unusual, but they love him. Jack isn’t the Perfect Son the way the tabloids have always talked about, but fuck the tabloids, because they love Jack for who he actually is. And moreover, that they also love each other for who they are.

[cricketnationrise]

4K of Alicia Zimmermann fic for your tables

part of my heartflower au series

[heeyjuuuude]

bad bob is an incredibly loud and incredibly emotional drunk and you know it

[wrathofthestag]

Bits of Heaven

Summary: At age 44, NHL legend, Jack Zimmermann, knows three things for sure: retirement is boring, love is probably not in the cards for him, and his aging father makes a pretty good roommate. When the bakery "Bits of Heaven" opens up down the street, Jack finds that a happily ever after is possible—even late in the game.   For @doggernaut​ who gave me this Older!Zimbits prompt: Recently retired Jack, bored, sees a Help Wanted sign in the bakery he's been stopping at every morning...  Also on AO3.

Chapter 1: Same Thing Every Day

The tea kettle sang loudly on the stove and roused Jack from the blank daydream he was currently having. He snapped out of it completely and turned off the oven. He mindlessly poured the boiling water into two mugs and plunked a tea bag into each one. The smell of earl grey tea wafted toward his nose.

Jack scratched at his beard as the water became a rich, dark brown and after a few minutes, he added a splash of cream and teaspoon of sugar into one of the mugs.

“Here you go, papa,” Jack said as he placed the tea with cream and sugar in front of Bob who sat in the living room.

“Thanks, son,” Bob said and gingerly took a sip.

It had been two years since Alicia passed away. Cancer was a terrible thing that didn’t care how loved someone was; it took without pity and remorse. It made sense for Jack to have his 77-year-old father, come and live with him in Providence. Jack had been divorced from Camilla for five years now, and his place was way too big for one person. After Jack retired four years ago, at the respectable age of 40, his home felt even bigger somehow. With Alicia gone, it was just the Zimmermann men, together, making their way each day.

“How’s the knee doing today? I can tell it’s going to be a damp one, today,” Bob said taking an Oreo cookie from a small plate on the coffee table and glancing at the window. The grey skies swirled and danced outside.

“It’s fine. Not too bad,” Jack said as he gently patted his knee.

Part of the reason for Jack’s retirement was the state of his knee. Had one bad hit not made him land just so, Jack might have played another season or two. And while MCL tears are usually not that big of a deal, Jack had the very rare case of a 3 MCL tear which required surgery. While he could still play, his recovery was longer than most. He figured his body had had enough. It was at that time that Alicia had been diagnosed, and so with three Stanley Cup rings under his belt, the Providence Falconers retired his jersey, and Jack said goodbye to the NHL. He hung up his skates and dedicated his time to his parents.

“So what are you doing today?” Jack asked.

“Same thing I do every day. Try to take over the world,” Bob said with a small wink.

Alicia’s passing had been difficult for everyone, but he knew that no one was even close to feeling the tremendous loss Bob felt. They had been together for fifty years; she was his confidant, best friend, his everything and Jack could see how lost his father still felt. It broke Jack’s heart.

“There’s a Blue Jays game about to start,” Jack said as he scrolled through the TV menu.

“Great, let’s watch,” Bob said and settled in deeper into his armchair.

Jack smiled softly at his father who took another cookie.

+++

The thing about dating was that… it wasn’t as easy as Jack thought it would be. He hadn’t dated since he and Camilla divorced (she had remarried right away and now had a three-year-old boy) and it wasn’t for lack of trying. Marty, Thirdy—even Tater had tried fixing him up with someone on numerous occasions. The thing was if it didn’t work out, and it usually didn’t, it then left Jack in the awkward position of seeing these people at his teammates’ family events. So he stopped being fixed up with friends of friends, and turned to online dating instead, upon Bob’s insistence.

“Jack, we can’t both be single and miserable,” Bob said kindly. “You need to get out there. You’re still young, Jack. No need having two senior citizens in the house.”

“Senior citizen, really? You wound me, father,” Jack said with a small grin.

Bob eyed Jack’s cardigan up and down, over his glasses, and returned to his book without another word.

So Jack set up a Tinder account, and hell, a Grindr one, too, only to be immediately intimidated.

Jack still looked good for his age. He worked out four times a week and made Bob come along with him at least twice a week, but the amount of skin some of the men on Grindr showed made him question his body.

“Brah! Guys half your age wish they looked as good as you do,” Shitty had said over the phone.

Jack poked at his tummy and sighed. “I don’t have six-pack abs anymore.”

“True, but now you can enjoy a six-pack and some cake with your old man and not have a heart attack over it. Plus, you still have that ass that won’t quit.”

Lardo shouted from the background, “Tell him he has nice eyes, too!”

“And Lards says you have an awesome set of peepers, too.”

Jack grinned. “Thanks, man.”

“Hey, what are truthful friends for?” Shitty had said.

Jack logged off Tinder and Grindr for a bit and concentrated on more pressing things as he glanced at his father filling out a New York Times crossword puzzle.

“What’s the capital of Belarus?”

“Minsk,” Jack replied.

“Right, got it,” Bob said as he eagerly pushed up his glasses and scribbled in the answer.

Jack smiled.

One evening, Jack was going out for an early evening walk (he missed running, but oh well) when he noticed that a new shop was finally opening in the empty storefront on Wickenden Street. It wasn't opened yet, but he could see someone inside unpacking and cleaning. He stood, transfixed, gripping his cup of coffee as he watched a man inside alone, working.

Even though he’s stood across the street from the shop, Jack could tell the man was singing. He looked happy. The man’s blond cowlick danced along with him as he moved across the shop, turning and jumping. The man, who seemed to be a few years younger than Jack, paused to wipe his forehead with a dishwashing-gloved hand, and Jack was charmed.

How wonderful to be so happy and living in the moment, loving what you are doing. Jack realized he had a smile on his face and then embarrassment quickly took over as he caught himself spying on this perfect stranger.

He cleared his throat and continued his walk, making a mental note of the shop’s signage. It was a bakery; Bits of Heaven the sign read. Jack makes his way home quietly, with a little pep in his step, as he thinks of the blond stranger.

+++

“Papa, you got invited to Penguins Fan Fest again this year,” Jack said as he shuffled through yesterday’s mail at the breakfast table.

He held up the letter with the familiar gold and black emblem on the stationery.

“You’d think they’d get the hint,” Bob said nonchalantly. “I don’t want to go and be part of their damn dog and pony show.”

“That’s not what they want,” Jack said as Bob rolled his eyes.

“No one wants to see an ancient hockey player. I’m just a novelty act—I still have all my teeth,” Bob said dryly.

“Your fans want to see you,” Jack huffed. “They still love you, you know. They want to see you out and about.”

“All my fans are probably dead.”

“Papa,” Jack frowned.

Bob waved him off and tucked into his omelet.

“Speaking of being out and about. Have you thought about getting a job yet?” Bob asked as he pointed his fork at Jack.

“What, am I freeloading or something?”

“You’re probably worth more than me now,” Bob chuckled. “No, I just think you should get out and do something. You were on the You Can Playboard for such a short amount of time, I'd thought you would have been more interested and stayed on longer.”

“It was okay…”

“But?”

“But nothing.”

“You need to be out doing something, Jack. You have a history degree for crying out loud.”

“I know,” Jack said and held his hands up in surrender. “Look, when I find the perfect job, I promise I’ll give it a go, okay?”

A few weeks passed, and Jack kept his eye on Bits of Heaven. Every evening during his walk, he'd stroll by to watch the shop's progress. One night, the blond man stood outside the shop’s front door holding a shiny silver tray.

“Sample? I promise you, it's a bit of heaven,” he said.

“Oh,” Jack said awkwardly as he took a small plastic dish. “You've opened?”

“Next week! I'm just out here meeting the neighbors, saying hi.”

Jack nodded and stuffed the tiny chunk of pie into his mouth.

“It's delicious,” he mumbled through the crumbs as the man laughed.

“Good to hear! Well, please be sure to stop by next week for our official grand opening.”

Jack grinned, but he could feel it looking more like a grimace than anything else. He nodded and quickly walked away.

He made it back to the condo just as Bob was pulling some steaks out of the oven.

“Did you see that the bakery on Wickenden is finally opening?” Jack asked.

“Ooo, I can’t wait to try it. It looks like pie is their specialty.”

“I just tried some. The owner—or at least I think it was the owner—was outside giving samples. I tried the apple pie.”

“Was it good?” Bob asked excitedly.

Jack flashed his father a thumbs up.

“Hot diggety dog! Can’t wait.”

“It’ll just be nice to have another coffee option in the neighborhood,” Jack said as he remembered the blond man’s smile.

+++

Jack waited until almost closing time before he descended onto Bits of Heaven. He wanted to avoid the crowds—not so much because of his anxiety but because he didn’t want to deal with anyone recognizing him. An occasional person here or there was fine, but a giant group would have a domino effect, and he didn’t want to deal with a mob that evening.

He walked through the door, and a little bell chimed. There were a few people at tables digging into their pie, and some kids were chatting. Apparently, they worked there as they wore Bits of Heaven t-shirts.

“Hey, you came back!” the blond man said as he emerged from behind the counter. He wiped his hands on his apron and smiled at Jack. “I just put out one final batch of chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven. Would you like one?”

“Oh, sure. Thanks. Can I also get a small black coffee?”

“You got it, mister.”

“Jack,” he supplied as he handed over a ten dollar bill.

The man smiled. “One black coffee and a chocolate chip cookie coming right up for Mister Jack.”

Jack felt his cheek burn as he stood off to the side and waited for his order.

“I’m Eric, by the way,” he said as he handed Jack his coffee.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Jack said.

“Thanks, I--”

“Eric, can we punch out now? That last table cleared out.”

Jack turned to look at the three teenagers wearing the Bits of Heaven t-shirts.

“Okay, Rudy Rudester… do you want to not interrupt next time?”

The redhead looked even redder as he blushed. “Sorry.”

“Dex, you can punch out since you got here early. Chowder and Nursey, you've got 15 more minutes.”

“Okay, boss!” the one with the braces replied and quickly got back to work.

“Sorry about that. They're not supposed to work this late, but agreed to help out for our grand opening week.”

“To be that young and full of energy, huh?” Jack smiled.

“Yeah, but now I need to find someone that full of energy to help me close and sweep up,” Eric said with a sigh. “Look at me, laying my troubles on you. Go and enjoy your cookie and thanks again for coming.”

Jack took a seat in the large armchair by the corner and noticed there was a small Help Wanted sign taped to the window.

He watched the three kids chirp each other, sword fight with broom handles, and smiled at their zeal.

“Boys! Can you please?” Eric chastised kindly.

“Night, Eric,” Dex called out. He then waved at the other two boys (one gave him an extra bright smile) and left.

The last few customers trickled out, and Jack looked at the time. The shop was officially closed. He took his dish and mug to the counter and Eric slammed his register drawer shut.

“How’d it go?” Jack asked.

“Pretty good, if I do say so myself.” He looked at Jack’s dishes. “Oh, you didn't have to bring them up. You could have just left them on the table. Thank you!”

“Thanks for letting me stay till the last minute.”

“Nonsense. I just hope you’ll be back.”

Jack stood there and rubbed the back of his neck. “So, uh, what are the hours?”

“Well, our official hours will be Tuesday through Sunday, 7:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.—but I stayed open later for the grand opening. Here, let me get you a punch card.”

Jack looked at the card pressed into his hand and cleared his throat. “No, I meant what are the hours—you know, for closing up.”

He pointed at the sign in the window.

“Oh! I see… I’m not sure it’d be your kind of thing?” Eric replied looking taken by surprise.

“Oh?”

“It’s to help wash dishes, sweep, clean up and stuff. I figured some other high schooler might be interested, not you.”

Jack smiled. “And why not me?”

Eric laughed. “Well, because I can’t imagine a retired NHL legend would be interested in sweepin’ up my shop.”

Jack felt a little crestfallen, realizing Eric knew who he was.

“Don’t worry—it’s not a big deal," Jack quickly added.

"I mean, if you’re interested, then who am I to stand in the way?” Eric said with kindness and a quick wink.

"Okay. Right on," Jack replied with a smile.

Jack then realized he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time… giddiness.

To be continued...

[somethingnurseywoulddo]

 reasons he can’t explain. also on AO3

When he was a newborn, just a tiny little thing, his papa placed a hockey puck on top of his butt. With wide eyes and chubby limbs, he simply wiggled his behind back and forth, slowly scootching forward. Jack’s little brain didn’t comprehend the joy he felt in that moment, for he was a baby, but Jack would grow up, continuing to be a little bit odd like that.

As he aged, Jack found habits and sensations that made him feel oddly satisfied. For example, when he was three, Jack found the best thing on the planet: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The sticky peanut butter, the sweet jam (that balanced out the salt of peanuts well), and the thick bread all mashed together made for the perfect combination. When no other food could settle on his sensitive palate, a classic pb&j always calmed his senses.

It didn’t end there, however. Because a few years later, his grandmother bought Jack the softest, warmest (and heaviest) blanket Jack had ever felt. After a full day of errands, a stressful practice, or whatever life threw at him, Jack would race up the stairs (on all fours, like a horse, no less), flop into bed, and then proceed to wrap himself (like a burrito) within the blanket. For reasons Jack couldn’t explain, he would settle down underneath the weight. Even though physically he was under pressure, his mental worries would drift far away, and he’d be able to relax again. Jack would lay there for hours, sometimes until his mother would knock on his door, alerting him that dinner was ready.

When Jack mentions his adoration for routine to his teammates, or his favorite activity (outside of hockey) being wrapped up in his blanket (maybe with earbuds in, listening to a history podcast), they all laugh it off. It’s like none of them enjoy anything like that. (He tries not to let it bother him, but it still digs a hole into his chest).

_________

At thirteen years old, Jack knows his father’s legacy. He knows that he too, is going to have to live up to that standard. Even at this early stage of life, Jack is forced into high class social situations and interactions (due to his parent’s status’). 

Every single situation he’s forced to go to is literal hell for Jack. He’ll do close to anything in an excuse to escape the get togethers. Having to make eye contact with people he hardly knows, and also create small talk is stressful enough to make Jack shut down; it drains the energy out of him like running a marathon. In one evening alone, Jack has to take at least five trips to the bathroom in order to calm himself down, focus back on reality, and place back on an extroverted facade. 

Not only does Jack have to make eye contact and engage in conversation, but he’s forced to listen to twenty plus more conversations and the general party sounds that come with socializing. He clenches his fists, cracks his knuckles, and squeezes his hands to try and calm down. Hopefully, no one notices his pale face, stiff hands, and run offs to the restroom; Jack thinks at least his mother has noticed.

These nights, Jack doesn’t even bother listening to history podcasts, he simply cuddles up underneath his blanket, and falls asleep without saying a word. It happens often. The no-speak aspect, not just the parties, where he becomes so overloaded, he doesn’t even have the energy to speak. He thinks clearly, but he can push no more than a word or two past his lips.

On the occasional, blessed nights where there is no party or practice, Jack’s favorite thing to do is sit on the living room couch, watching a history document. Hours upon hours, he’ll sit there, snapping his fingers, shaking his feet, and hum along to facts he finds interesting within the document. Thankfully, his parents don’t seem to mind, and they let him continue to relax in his own way.

_________

At fifteen, when life and hockey become a little too stressful (with the Q’s arrival and his family hosting another Q player. His name is Kent Parson), he begins to freak out even more than he typically does. His mother suggests seeing a doctor to get tested for anxiety (because he has been showing symptoms for years); the diagnosis comes back positive, and he’s given medicine that’s supposed to help ease his anxiety.

It seems to do its job, the medicine that is, at reducing his irrational thoughts and do-it-all-to-the-point-of-failure ideals, but besides that, it doesn’t even help him get rid of his hatred for bad textures, or the obscenely loud noises, or unfairly awkward social interactions. Brushing aside the annoyance of still having those hinderances, Jack does his best to put everything into hockey. Even his (very complex) relationship with Kenny revolves around hockey.

At first, Kenny had been a distraction from the hectic schedule hockey entailed. They could sit in bed, making out, letting off steam, for hours on end, however, after (almost) two years of a relationship with Kenny, it’s become one of his sources of anxiety.

(for starters, he and Kent are constantly at odds with one another. Kent starts up useless drama to fluster (frustrate) Jack, then kiss him to shut Jack up. He and Kent were up against each other for the number one pick, and it made things stressful. When Jack would want to curl under his blanket and clench his fists, Kent would grab his hands and sweet talk Jack into something more than lying in bed. To add on top of everything, being gay in the NHL is an instant career ender, and with the way he and Kent are going, things wouldn’t end well).

Eventually, the stress of it all became too much to handle. When one pill failed to calm his nerves, he took another, and another, and another. Next thing Jack knows, he’s lying in a hospital bed, his mother holding his hand, and his father the other.

_________

In the time that follows Jack’s accident (cause it was an accident, he just wanted to settle down), he coaches a peewee hockey team. It’s exactly what Jack needs. Where the Q had sucked the joy out of hockey, his peewee team replaced with a rekindled adoration for the sport. And what’s not to love about hockey? Even the sound of the puck is soothing, and the feel of flying over ice is healing. 

Jack tries not to pick favorite students within his team, but there is a little boy who snags Jack’s attention. He’s awkward, struggles to socialize with the other teammates, and can’t look Jack in the eye. It feels familiar to him. He realizes, it’s because he sees himself within the boy. When the kid gets a goal, he flaps his arms, spins in circles, and squeals. Jack in turn, cheers the kid on by pumping his fists, and jumping up in down. It feels nice, that even this kid is more than half his age, he can connect so well with the boy. (even to this day, they stay in contact. The kid just signed, too!).

However, Jack realizes he’s ready to start playing hockey himself. Jack decides college is a good place to pick up life again. He applies to Samwell University and gets accepted. 

At first, it’s slightly awkward, playing on a team again that is, but Jack thinks this is the place for him. One of the other freshman Jack met instantly latched onto him. Not just emotionally, but literally in a physical manner. The dude, Knight, loves to hug, cuddle, and fist bump Jack any chance he gets. During the first few months, Jack finds it weird, but eventually he begins to notice the comfort brought on by his new best friend (a best friend he’s never had one before). The weight of another person snuggling up next to Jack reminds him of his heavy blanket, so he begins to welcome the hugs with open arms (haha no pun intended). So after a long day, instead of curling up with his blanket and a podcast, he instead is wrapped in his best friends arms, listening to him rant about his latest drama or classes.

In his latest class, which is some kind of psychology study, (while they snuggle) he begins to rant about the ableist culture autistic people face. Normally, Jack isn’t one to engage his ears in actually listening, but what he’s hearing sounds…. Familiar. 

“Yeah, and so many autistic people grow up without even realizing they’re autistic! Doctors typically misdiagnose and say it’s anxiety because they don’t care about autism. And while yeah, you can have anxiety and autism, doctors still don’t like to admit a patient might have autism.”

Jack sits there, dumbfounded. He himself has been to several doctors who’ve said he has anxiety, but could there be more to this? 

He’s zoning out hard time, he knows this, but thinking about all the possibilities is nerve wracking. If there is anybody on the planet Jack can be open with, it’s with his best friend. Taking a few calculating breaths, he squeezes his hands together, then begins to speak. 

“Hey- uh, about the, uh, autism thing. Do you know how people can get fully diagnosed?”

“Yeah man! I know a guy! Why you ask?”

“Oh. Well, I think that I also may have autism. The things you said about it applies to everything I’ve gone through.”

“Dude! That makes so much sense! If you want I can go with you?”

He considers it for a moment “I’d love that, actually. Thank you.”

_________

Together, they go to the doctors. Despite doubts Jack had about really being autistic, he’s officially diagnosed with autism. The doctor explains it’s the reason Jack is picky with foods and sounds, why looking people in the eye and making small talk is so draining, how being under heavy weights or messing with his hands and jumping (also known as stimming) makes him feel better. It just makes sense. How Jack is in his twenties and only just now being diagnosed, will never make sense. However, he’s thankful to finally have answers for his questions.

It takes a while for Jack to learn the insides and outs of his condition, to accept this is apart of who he is. But eventually, as the days get longer, life gets sweeter, and friends closer, Jack begins to share this part of himself. Becoming so open about autism ended up helping another teammate too (chowder). 

While life is a hard fought battle, Jack finds it’s safe to say he’s at a point of loving, and embracing himself. All of himself.

[jack-manpain-zimmermann]

10,000 Weight In Gold

Heavy trigger warnings for Jack’s rehab and overall stressful and upsetting discussions about his and Bob’s lives. I don’t know why I decided to hurt myself like this. It’s a plain old shot of angst.

This is perhaps a version of Jack that might not agree with everyone, but I promise I founded it in what Jack and others have said about him in canon mixed with a little commonalities with other children of rich and famous parents. It’s still only my interpretation, of course.

I’m pretty neutral/on-the-fence about Kent but I totally respect how others react to him so warning that he is mentioned a couple of times in here.

Title from song of the same name by The Head and the Heart

on AO3

If it weren’t for the feeling that he was paying for his eighteen-year-old son’s life with it, he could enjoy the lodge atmosphere and the waterfront view from the window.

There are a few tells, of course. Not least of which is how the place can never get warm enough. Having to wear a jacket indoors for Christ’s sake, he thinks in low-level agitation.

The floral arrangement in the hollow of the shut-up fireplace seems to hover at the corner of his vision every time he is there. Bob doesn’t consider himself at all a poetic man but even he thinks it’s unnecessarily funereal.

Sat right there for him to stare at every morning and every night.

He crosses the room with decision and snatches it up just to throw it into the garbage basket two feet away, fully aware of how hysterical the action would seem to an outside observer. Defiant, he moves to stand in its place on the smooth stone hearth.

A striking memory of his own father occupying a space so similarly comes to Bob’s mind. He remembers being a boy and wondering how his father could look so belligerently out of place when he was brought indoors. How often had he wanted to yell, Would you just sit down! Look at Maman! Look how tense we all are. Can’t you just relax?

Stood so tall and broad in the small disused fireplace, it twists his insides a little to think that his own father’s presence had expanded over a lifetime of working in fields and a God-fearing duty of providing for his family. Bob’s own outsized imposition is nothing more than growing accustomed to being treated like a god.

He breathes out a sigh when the door opens.

Jack pauses at the sight of him before entering the room. His hair and sweats are slightly damp from a shower, a towel draped over one shoulder. His eyes stay on Bob as he moves around, body all loping athletic grace beneath a weakened frame and strained attention.

“You’re so early. I’ve got IGT in fifteen.”

Bob tries for a grin. “I asked Dr. Sidana if it was alright for me to have unscheduled time with my son, and she seemed to think it would be safe.”

It isn’t really a joke and he isn’t surprised that Jack doesn’t react to it.

“I spoke to Riggs this morning, actually.” He watches Jack carefully, inching closer as if he might spook. “I told him how well you’re coming along here and he practically begged me to send you to him for a meeting once you’re out. That is,” he hesitates, trying not to loom when he stands next to where Jack is sat on the bed and staring out the window, “if you want to. It’s his hard luck if you don’t. No pressure.”

His son’s shadow of a smile at the emphasis placed on ‘no pressure’ is enough that Bob could live on for a month.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet him. But I ah, I don’t think I want to talk about me playing again. Not yet.”

Bob feels intense shame at the drop of disappointment in his gut.

“Sure, sure. Anything you want.”

Jack glances quickly up at Bob and begins to knead the edge of the bed with his hands.

“I think I’m gonna coach peewee for a little while. I mentioned to Mairead how I want to get back on the ice but I don’t feel ready to go back into all that pressure. She said how a lot of the stuff I’m learning here could sink in better if I’m… ‘helping others.’”

Bob sees the implied inverted commas around the words. Hell, even he and Alicia are starting to feel a little institutionalized and they only spend half their time here.

“I’m pretty good with kids, so I thought… And yeah, she agreed it would be a good start.”

“Jack, you’re not pretty good with kids, you’re great with kids. They know a natural leader when they see one.”

Jack looks up at him directly and returns his father’s smile. Bob can’t help but reach out and tap a finger against Jack’s chin, settling onto the bed beside him.

“There’s something else I wanted to mention, and I didn’t want your mother here because, well. You know she’s never been a big fan of Kenny.”

A rawness breaks across Jack’s blue eyes but he nods, indicating that Bob can continue.

“He wouldn’t stop calling and the other day she seemed ready to really give it to him. So, I waited for her to go to that Vogue perfume launch thing.”

He waves his hands dismissively as if he hasn’t posed for photo shoots in said magazine multiple times. Jack snorts lightly and ribs Bob in the side.

“Anyway, he practically pushed me over trying to get to your room. I’d told him you weren’t back home yet but well, you know Kenny.”

“I know Kenny,” Jack murmurs at the same time.

“It took a couple beers and letting him knock a few pictures off the wall, but I eventually sat him down and got him to listen. Now, I’m not going to tell you everything that came out of him. At least not until you’re out of here. Because if any kid needs therapy more than any other, boy is it that one.”

Jack makes an expression of sad agreement.

Bob clears his throat. This is the difficult part.

“I’ve been able to guess that certain things have gone on between you two. And God knows you’ve been into things you were too young for, no matter how much we tried to keep you from that crowd. But this is the first time I’ve known you to be with a boy, and Jack,” he reaches a hand up to Jack’s shoulder when he senses the tension in the room rise. “I’m not gonna ask you anything invasive. And you know I trust you, I know you’ve been taught the right things. But as your father I have to ask: did Kenny ever push you into anything? Did he ever force himself on you?”

The smile of bewildered relief that forms on Jack’s face is so close to his old self.

“No. God, no. Papa. It’s… I don’t know how to say it. Uhm. He wasn’t the one who was, uh,” he trails off on an awkward laugh. “Kenny talks a big game but he really isn’t, you know. It’s all for show.”

Realization dawns on Bob’s face at last. “Aha! You’re saying you taught him everything he knows, eh?”

Jack ducks his head. He’s always embarrassed by how frank his father can be about this stuff.

Bob drops his hand and leans a shoulder into Jack’s.

“Tell me if I’m way off here, son. But I think maybe it isn’t a bad thing that you and Kenny take a break from each other. Maybe once you’re out of here and settled into a new pattern, around new people– Jack?”

What he had thought was quiet laughter is crying.

Jack has his head twisted away and a teardrop clings to his eyelashes. It extinguishes when his eyes screw up in pain.

Bob feels his heart miss two beats. He reaches out to hold his son’s face, but Jack flinches away. He turns just enough to let his father see him but can’t meet his eyes.

“Some of those parties… the shit we all did… Christ, I’m so embarrassed when Maman acts like Kenny led me astray.”

He begins to lurch under the roiling shame. Bob holds him by the shoulders now, trying not to look at the way his son is vacant in the eyes but his face is taut with pain.

“I could never tell her any of it. And she hates him because she thinks,” his breath is ragged now, forming into sobs, “she thinks he screwed up her perfect little boy, I… fuck, Papa, I just… ”

His body slumps as if invisible wires had been holding him up and Bob has to slide both arms around him. He presses their faces close, searching for the soft cheek of the little boy he used to hold long ago. But there are only the bony edges of Jack’s lean face, the child gone and the young man barely there at all.

In the darkening reflection of the window Bob sees ghosts of himself; young and old.

“What do I tell him, Papa?” Jack grits out, and it takes Bob a moment to shift to where Jack is headed. “How do I say that I’ll always hate him for never having to be on medication and getting to do everything I’ve wanted since I was a kid? The draft… the contract… 

Jack lets himself list towards his father’s embrace at last, head cowed under Bob’s chin as he weeps.

“How the fuck do I say that to someone who told me he loved me three weeks ago?”

They cling to each other in pain, perhaps the only bond Bob can imagine they share now that hockey has proven itself to be the force tearing them apart.

“I should be able to tell you, Jack,” Bob swallows thickly. “I should be able to tell you, because I’ve been in that position far more times than is forgivable. Each time, I’ve dealt with it horribly and been ashamed of myself. And the last time I let someone down like that, it was you.”

He expects Jack to pull away with an expression of fury or betrayal. He inwardly curses this damn place for making him give up his secrets so easily.

Instead, he feels Jack shift until his arms wind around Bob’s middle. Bob could howl at the undeserved forgiveness he’s receiving, but he can only be grateful.

“You were waddling over to say goodbye to me, and you fell. Not hard, but it shook the wind out of you and made you cry. In my head I heard myself think how annoyed I was because you were still learning to walk and every five minutes you would fall over or hurt yourself. I was this close to handing you over to Maman because I was already late heading out and… “

Bob wipes at his eyes briefly before clinging to his son again.

“God, I have never hated myself more than when you caught me looking at you like that. Like you were an annoyance. Eleven months old and you’d never seen your Papa give you that look, but somehow I could tell that you knew. Jack, I’ve done some terrible, awful things to people in my life but if Saint Peter turns me away at the gates because of anything, I would have understood that as unforgivable.”

“Oh, Papa,” Jack whispers. Turning his head, he presses a kiss to Bob’s cheek quickly and looks away when he knows his father almost loses composure entirely.

“I’m not… I’m not saying that to get you to forgive me or to pretend that you and I share anything like similar blame in how we live. God knows I’m not, Jack. I’m saying it because I’ve had to climb out of a similar hole before and I want to help you any way I can. The people here, they’re good people. Fine professionals. But they’re not miracle workers. You’re going to need to find somewhere to put your love until you’re ready to give it to yourself, sweet boy.”

He pauses to press a kiss to the side of Jack’s head, brushing his fingers through long dark hair.

“I still love it, you know,” Jack answers hesitantly. “Hockey. I love everything about it, except maybe not the competing. Not right now.”

Bob holds himself back from saying, ‘that will come back to you someday soon as well.’

“I think you’ve got the right idea. There are a lot of kids out there who would love to have Jack Zimmermann as their coach. And take it from me, children can be incredibly forgiving and kind.”

Their eyes meet at last and they share a soft smile before there is knock at the door. A voice murmurs Jack’s name, reminding him of the time.

Jack stands and Bob rises as well, pulling his son into a tight hug.

“Your mother says she can be here for dinner, if you don’t mind?”

He pats Jack on the side as they walk to the door.

“Good for me.”

Jack pauses with his door on the handle.

“Do I need to be worried about Kenny? Do you think… “

“No. Not at all, son. He’s angry and upset for sure, but it’s just because he misses you. You don’t owe him… any of us, anything. He’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.” Jack’s voice is barely a whisper.

“We’re hard to get over, son. But they always do.”

Jack smiles a little wryly, fear only evident in his eyes.

“What about us?”

“Oh, well now,” Bob ambles over and opens the door for Jack. “We may feel like heartless assholes a lot of the time, but when we do finally fall in love…” He makes a soft whistling sound. “We never get over it.”

Jack can’t say why that piece of information out of the entire rehab experience remains his strongest source of consolation. But it is.

_________________________________________________________________

I’ve written up some probably superfluous notes about my thought processes during this fic. Totally self-indulgent but I’m posting them in case anyone’s interested. *crickets*

[gutsybitsies]

Asking @garden-of-succulents about zimbits pygmalion au but it became more like bad bob pygmalion-pinocchio au where bob sculpts his greatest love, a son, and wishes so hard for him to come to life.

And Jack comes to life and he's everything Bob ever wanted for a son, except Jack doesn't think that.

And in front of Bob and Alicia's horrified eyes their son turns back to stone as Jack begs to the gods to take him back and get rid of the pain.

[fandom-nonsense-by-me]

Alicia setting Jack up with Bitty on live TV

Ok what if Jack and Bitty didn't meet at Samwell. But Jack still ends up at the Falconers and Bitty is a famous baker on Youtube with cookbooks and is also on some local Providence morning show. And Jack switches to that channel every morning while working out or something. He never misses a show, because he has a huge celebrity crush on Bitty. Even the falconers know about it and always tease him about it. .

And what if Alicia Zimmermann was a guest on the show, promoting some charity event and Bitty was showing her how to make a maple apple pie as part of the show. and Alicia mentions how much her son is a fan of the show and escpecially Bitty's segment. And she tries to gauge if Bitty is single and if he would be interested in Jack throughout the segment and trying to be subtle about it. But it comes off super obvious and everyone on twitter goes crazy about it. Jack is watching from home with Bob and he is so embarrassed. I can just see him turning red and burying his head in his hands.

Bitty just assumes Alicia is joking and laughs it off. Saying that she doesn't need to set him up with her son for free pies.

Anyway, they somehow end up together but I just love the idea of Jack's parents knowing Jack's type and trying to set him up with Bitty.

[whoacanada]

Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight. 

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”