“Bitty” Bittle’s Blueberry (and other flavoured) Jam
“What is this?” Bitty stares, confused, at the envelope Jack is holding toward him.
“Money?” Bitty blinks slowly, quirks a brow at the question in Jack’s voice.
He crosses his arms. “And you’re holding an envelope full of cash out to me why?”
Jack’s eyebrows raise. “Bits. Bud. It’s for the jam.”
“You and Tater took the jam.”
“Yeah. Up to the rest of the team and the support staff that ordered it?”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Bitty. You didn’t make all that jam–specific flavours for different people and like three dozen jars of blueberry for Tater alone–to just give to the team.” His voice is flat.
Bitty catches his eye, brow furrowed in confusion. “Jack, it’s just jam.”
“It’s…Bittle. It took two cars to haul it all up. It was two cars full of jam.”
“I told you it just kind of…happened. Like the quiche–”
“On MLK day.” Jack sighs. “Okay, Bits. But, look. This is like how the sin bin here funds pies, right? Just consider this the NHL sin-bin-supply envelope.” He reaches out and places the envelope in the front pocket of Bitty’s bag. Reconsiders as he thinks about the amount and sticks it straight into the bottom of the duffel and zips it up.
“Bittle.” He makes sure to catch his boyfriend’s eye. “This is not to fund more pies to make for the team,” his tone is firm. “They already like you.”