I like to think that Jack is so 110% that he can somewhat tell how Bitty is feeling based on the way his food tastes.
-Jack eating his sandwich with Marty, Thirdy or Tater (really anyone that is aware of Jack and Bitty)
Jack takes one bite, makes a contemplative face, puts down the sandwhich, takes out his phone and steps into the hallway. He returns 15 mintues later and continues eating as if nothing of significance occured.
“What was that about?”
“ Something was bothering Bittle so I just wanted to make sure he was ok.”
They ponder a moment for it seems whatever the issue, it has been resovled and prying isn’t a good way to talk to Jack. So they drop it and continued with their lunch.
This happens every so often and they start to wonder how suddenly in the middle of the day, Jack claims that something is “bothering” Bitty? One day someone decides to finally ask.
“If somthing is bothering Bitty why do you wait til you eat half your food before you call him?”
“I’m not always completely sure if he’s upset unless i talk to him directly or at least eat his food.”
“His food? Like what, it tastes bad?”
“No its still delicious, but different somehow. So i just call to check up. Usually its stress from school, so we talk through it and discuss how its going.”
“But how can you taste something like that?”
And Jack Laurent Zimmermann, as if someone casually asked 1+1? His response accompanied with the slightest shrug:
“He’s my boyfriend.”
Like what a silly question to ask?
Multiple sighs are released and heads hang low. Food is put down as eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. Some even have to leave, overwhelmed by Jack’s insane sincerity.
After practice Jack notices quite a few guys on their phones. Not meaning to, Jack passes and overhears variations of “Wondering how your day has been” And “Just thinking about you so I wanted to call and say hi.”
He doesn’t think much of it, (since it oblviously has nothing to do with him), and heads home.
This post is such a classic and I love it, it makes me smile every time. Especially: overwhelmed by Jack’s insane sincerity.
Because that’s so…Jack. Intense, focused, insanely sincere. Not that he can’t ever lie or joke, but he’s so extremely straightforward and un-ironic in what he wants and how he thinks.
This is Jack who, when asked what he wanted to buy with his first NHL paycheck said “a truck”. Who thinks that his neon yellow running shoes are ‘neat’. Jack, who told Bitty he loved him after a crazy short amount of time. Jack who is sincerely polite to parents. Jack who says things in mid-game interviews like “well, the boys are all trying really hard out there” and genuinely means it.
Ship: Zimbits Rating: PG-13 for a couple swear words
Summary: Bitty’s excited about finally moving into his own apartment. The ridiculously hot neighbor is just a perk.
Author’s Note(@luckiedee): Written for @creatingdoodles, whose prompt included suits. For inspiration, I googled professions where men have to wear suits and well, this happened. Inspiration also taken from a tumblr post I can no longer find that prompted something like “one half of your OTP thinks that the other doesn’t speak English because they only hear them speaking a foreign language.“ Takes place in an AU where Bitty has a blog, not a vlog, and he doesn’t post his picture to it. I hope you enjoy! ♥
”Lardo,” Bitty says dramatically when he finds her at the coffee shop, dropping into a chair on the opposite side of the table.
“Bits,” she replies, barely glancing up from her sketchbook.
He frowns at the mild reaction and, without further preamble, announces: “An international supermodel lives in my building.”
That gets her attention — or, more accurately, her skepticism. She raises one eyebrow, her charcoal going still. “Here?”
“Mmhmmm,” Bitty confirms, sipping his coffee.
“Here,” she repeats. “In Providence.”
“Here.”
There’s an edge of curiosity in her expression now. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who is it?”
“Well,” Bitty hedges. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“Then how do you know that this person is an international supermodel?”
Bitty leans eagerly across the table. “Consider the evidence: first of all, he’s gorgeous —” Lardo rolls her eyes and starts to speak, but Bitty bowls right over her “— second, he was leaving at ass o’clock in the morning, same as me. We took the elevator together. And he was talking on the phone — in French.”
“That doesn’t mean —”
“Wait! I haven’t told you the most important part.” Bitty pauses for effect. “He was wearing a suit.”
Lardo blinks. “So he’s a businessman.”
“You, Larissa Duan,” Bitty says, pointing an accusatory finger at her, “are no fun. I prefer to think that he was going to a sunrise photoshoot. Let a gay boy dream.”
After a critical glance at her work, Lardo casts her charcoal aside entirely and picks up her mug, smudging fingerprints up the side. “Is there a reason you can’t dream if he’s just some corporate shill?”
“Because then I’ll never know what’s under that suit,” Bitty explains mournfully. “At least if he’s a model, he might do an underwear campaign and I’d see the goods. I deserve that much at least.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Lardo says, and they clink mugs.
*
Bitty’s excited about his new apartment for several reasons. He’s never lived on his own, having gone from his parents’ house to Samwell to bunking with Lardo when she’d transferred to RISD and Bitty had decided that Samwell wasn’t for him (largely because his grades slipped so low that he was barely clinging to his scholarship). It’ll save him from being the awkward third wheel when Shitty visits from Boston. He’ll be closer to the catering company where he’d recently graduated from Baking Assistant to Baker.
I have no explanation for why they would end up doing this, but it’s probably the fact that Bitty’s viewers keep asking questions anyway, so Bitty just decides (after asking Jack) to do a livestream Q&A with his viewers.
Jack is nervous because he’s so bad at interviews. he doesn’t want to go into robot mode in front of all of Bitty’s viewers.
(there are also a bunch of curious Falcs fans watching this thing but he doesn’t really think about them because they already know how boring he is at interviews)
so it’s just these two sitting on Jack’s couch reading questions off of the livestream chat and Bitty’s instagram. Bitty does his cue little intro and Jack is next to him, nervous, and gives a shy little “Hello” and the live chat has decided that that was Adorable
“how are we going to read all of these, the chat is going to fast”
“we’ll put it on slow mode, baby. and some of them are going to be from my instagram”
and once the questions start, they kind of catch him off guard. not in a bad way. he just wasn’t expecting answering them to be this easy
(but then again, these questions are about Bittle. he loves talking about Bittle)
oh nooooo. and in this au jack could still probably afford it but he’s so focused on hockey……….
Jack finds out that that’s what Bitty’s saving up for, and even though the idea of Bittle finding his soulmate makes him really sad for some reason (weird, right?), he also very much wants Bittle to be as happy as he deserves to be (which is really, really happy). So for Bitty’s birthday, instead of the oven he pays his soulmate fee….
Jack didn’t have a solid grasp on income inequality when he was young because his family had always had money. The people he was raised around had money. Jack wanted for nothing and assumed for the longest time that his experiences were universal.
Jack remembers his first billet experience and being momentarily confused as to why he couldn’t have his own room. His teammate at the time had mocked him mercilessly for his ignorance, and that was one of the first times Jack felt genuine shame.
He’d also grown up with stories of his parent’s whirlwind romance and struggling to scrape together enough money to pay a ludicrous Match fee was not part of the tale. It wasn’t part of anyone’s story, really; back when Matching had been run by an NGO service, Bob Zimmermann was a world-renowned athlete and Alicia Carter was a silver screen darling. They had the money but didn’t need it.
In 1985, Bob and Alicia paid a service fee of $75 US dollars and put their names into one database.
Then regulations were slashed and Wall Street realized there was easy money to be made off the back of a system that had been in place for centuries. One database became many, and fees crept higher and higher because it turned out people would pay just about anything for happiness.
Now, in 2015, Jack Zimmermann is watching Eric Bittle pick quarters out of Founder’s water fountain so he can save toward the $50,000 he needs to find his soulmate.
“Don’t you dare judge me, Jack Zimmermann,” Bittle cautions, leaning in to snag what looks like a golden dollar. “A man has his priorities.”
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