Little Intimacies and Big Similarities

by lapoubella

Summary:

Jack Zimmermann and Eric Bittle are more alike than people give them credit for.

(alternatively: Two Soppy Boys)

CH 1: Jack taking pictures of Bitty baking/Bitty's hands for his photography class.
CH 2: Bitty talks french to make his big Quebecois boyfriend laugh.
CH 3: Jack and Bitty are both only children. (Jack comforts his Bitty-boy!)

Chapter 1: Eric’s hands have scars

Eric’s hands have scars - and that makes sense, he’s a physical guy. Mostly they’re small burns from when he first started cooking, but there are some more recent additions - from the time he spent competitively ice skating, hockey practice, and more cooking, only this time, under a little too much stress to hold a kitchen knife passably well. (Noo, he has to use a knife to skin his apples; he’s too good for a peeler.) (Bitty doesn’t have a monopoly on scolding - Jack’s nagged him about it once or twice before.)

The first time Bitty got a scar - a small one, on the side of his right index - he cried. He hadn’t when he got the burn, he didn’t even complain when it blistered over, but now it wouldn’t ever go away (ever?) and he knew beautiful skin never had any dots or blemishes or scars on it. He learned not to care. No use crying over spilled milk; some people just aren’t meant to beautiful like that. His stint with football and practices added just a few more marks. What’s one more? It’s fine - it’s not like Bitty doesn’t moisturize and trim his nails (which is more than most fratboys can claim, Samwell fratboys excluded.) And Bitty’s never cared so much about his hands - more what he can make with them.

Its not until late his sophomore year he thinks differently. He’s helping a great big French Canadian in the kitchen with his final project; (yes), they’re baking a pie, and chatting about Jack’s future career in the NHL, and finals as a whole.

“You actually got me a very good grade in Photo,” Jack says. Oh? “Yeah, I’m giving you credit for my grade.” Oh, no, I meant. Well. How? And Jack’s disappearing around the counter to go grab his camera, and when he comes back he’s already talking - “We had to make a series on action shots. Faber seemed like it would get me an easy-A but, when I’m there, I’m usually part of the action. On the ice, I mean.” And Jack’s getting a bit self conscious now, as he taps through, shoulder to shoulder with Bitty, the camera angled so both of them can see the display.

Some of them are of hockey, but most of them sport the Haus in the background. The frogs roughhousing, Ransom and Holster roughhousing, and - gosh, there really are a lot of fights. Could this get us charged with something? But then it’s the kitchen, and there is Bitty: slicing, dicing, mixing, kneading. An animated conversation between Dex and Nursey (likely about to lead to more roughhousing). And Bitty’s hand’s around a pie tray - there’s a small silver streak on the side of his thumb, caught by the camera. And Bitty looks, he looks at the big, worn hands that took that shot, that’s holding the camera now. He thinks, well isn’t that gorgeous.

Jack just laughs. “It ended up being almost half my grade.”

Chapter 2: When they talk french

Now, Bitty doesn’t remember a lot of French. Years later, he’s retained only three phrases: he says “c'est mon confiture!” when his favorite top forty songs come on (because it makes Jack laugh); he says “je suis excité” when they’re in bed and feeling silly (because it makes Jack laugh); and he remembers “je t'aime” (because Jack says it to make him laugh.)

Notes:

*c'est mon confiture - a literal translation, "this is my jam".
*je suis excite - often misinterpreted to mean "I am excited". Actually implies another type of excitement, but funny because, well, it's a quintessentially anglophone mistake to make. And a kind of unsexy thing to announce.
*je t'aime - <3

Chapter 3: They are both single children

Summary:

Or 'lonely onlyies' as I've heard them called.

When Bitty, curled up in his arms, has finally calmed down, Jack allows his surprise to show itself. He’s heard Bitty talk about his mother, his family. Hell, Jack’s met Mrs. Bittle. Jack wants to ask Bits why he hadn’t told her anything at all about being gay, or at least not being straight, but -

“I get it, bud. I really do,” Jack says instead.

Bitty’s laugh is muffled by Jack’s chest, though it sounds more strung out than actually happy. “But your parents...?” When he looks up, his face is dry but his eyes are red.

Despite it all, his mussed hair brings a small smile to Jack’s face. “You don’t have any siblings,” he explains: it’s a fact, not a question. At Bitty’s confused nod, he adds, “We don’t have any siblings.”

Bitty reaches up to pat at Jack’s hair, his voice on the cute side of patronizing. “Yes honey, I’m glad you’ve been paying attention.”

Jack leans back to put distance between him and the little chirping menace in his arms, huffing out a laugh through his nose. Of course, this only incentivizes Bitty.

“No, no!” Jack, with one arm behind him, scrambles further back on the bed; he uses his other arm as a buffer. Bitty pounces. Their wrestling match doesn’t last long, and Jack’s hair doesn’t make it out neatly parted.

Now laying back against the headboard, he pulls Bitty back to him. “No, really, listen.” He says, “It was kind of the same thing, before I got drafted into Q.”

Jack stops out of habit, unused to monologuing and half-thinking that sufficed as explanation. According to the fond-but-tired tilt to Bitty’s head, it wasn’t. Jack continues, left hand absently drawing circles into Bitty’s shoulder.

“There’s a draft for minor league hockey. Minor leagues in Quebec are called Q. And, uhm, draft’s are always stressful.” Jack laughs awkwardly. He sure was the man to be saying that. “That’s when my parents went for help. I got pills. Duh, I mean.” He furrows his brows, lets out a sigh. “They helped. But my parents were still so... worried. They didn’t have anything else to focus on, you know? I don’t have any siblings.

“I didn’t want to give them any more reasons to worry. It’s tough, thinking you’re their only kid. Like, if you have an older brother who's doing fine, well, your parents already have that success under their belt. So if you screw up, it doesn’t matter as much. But when it’s just you, all their hopes are just kind of pinned on...” The arm around Bitty’s shoulders tightens, while Jack’s free hand gestures to the air. “And they’d already booked appointments and picked up my prescriptions... What else could they do to help? And... when it got really bad, I was just worried they’d end up taking me off the ice entirely. So I didn’t say anything.”

Bitty leans up to place a little kiss on Jack’s face - though the hinge of Jack’s jaw is the farthest he can reach from where he’s cuddled up. “The first time something really bad happened,” Bitty starts, then stops. It’s difficult looking at Jack right now, and not just because of the awkward angle of his neck. Bitty opts to stare off at the corner of the room. “Uh, well, not really bad, just. It’s like they can see it on you, right? Even as little kids, they just knew I was -” Bitty shrugs his shoulders. ‘Different’ sounds like a cop-out. ‘Effeminate’ and ‘gay’ sounds too mature, too clinical for this particular childhood memory. ‘Off’ makes it sound like Bitty’s ashamed. He isn’t.

“The first time they really got into bullying me. Not just names. Like, pushing my face into the ground - I ran home cryin’. I told Coach. He never let it go. Well, I mean, obviously he did, but it took him so long, and I was so embarrassed and -” Bitty lets out a breath. “He seemed really torn up about it too. His little boy, gettin’ shoved around - lettin’ himself get shoved around. I think that’s why I held out doing football for as long as I did. I just. I thought he wanted somebody else for a son for a long, long time, and sometimes, I’m still not sure?” Bitty’s voice lifts at this. He wipes at his face. “I think if he could have another kid, he would. I’m not exactly what either of them were bettin’ on.” Gosh, he can’t even pronounce his G’s right when he gets like this, of course they’d want somebody a little more collected -

Jack’s other arm comes around to fully cocoon Bitty. He plants a kiss on the top of Bitty’s head before resting his chin there. They sit there for a while, still and quiet and gentle. Bitty manages to fight back another onslaught of tears, but it leaves the space behind his eyes feeling tight and achy.

“To be fair,” Jack says after a time, “I wasn’t betting on you either. But I’m so, so lucky you happened anyways.”

Bitty spoke too soon; his second batch of tears make an appearance despite all his best efforts, but at least they come with a smile.

Notes:

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