Jack falls asleep like that, head nestled on the pillow in Bitty’s lap, the smile on his face as relaxed and content as Bitty has ever seen it.
The storm outside is unrelenting, but Bitty just hums softly to himself and cards his fingers through Jack’s hair again. This moment in time is not only perfect, but also the perfect metaphor for their relationship.
Jack is coming out next week.
Bitty is coming out to his parents tomorrow.
The storm rages, the windowpanes rattling against the onslaught, but Bitty is too happy, too confident of his place here in this tiny universe that belongs to him and Jack alone, to let it bother him.
“You are the best thing I have ever done,” he whispers.
Slowly, Jack reaches one hand up to trail gentle fingertips across the back of Bitty’s neck. He smiles softly, and, though his eyes are still closed, it is very obvious he’s no longer asleep.
“I think that’s my line,” he whispers back. And then shifts a little so that his nose nuzzles into Bitty’s abdomen as he slips back into semi-consciousness.
“I love you,” Bitty says.
He can feel Jack’s lazy smile through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
“My love is too big for words,” Jack mumbles, definitely falling back asleep now. Bitty breathes a quiet laugh. “You are the best thing… the best… that I have ever let myself have.”
The downpour outside picks up. Bitty has no illusions about how much the rest of the world is very soon going to do exactly the same in regards to his relationship.
But he closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of Jack’s freshly washed hair between his fingers. He focuses on loving this boy with his whole heart, on how easy that is to do, and on how loved he feels in return.
Jack is…big. With time and distance and schedules that refuse to cooperate, Bitty forgets this sometimes. Jack is diminished on the computer screen when they Skype, or through the phone when they call. Bitty sees him and hears him and forgets, sometimes, the exact dimensions of Jack’s broad, broad shoulders.
And, oh, they’re broad. And solid. And strong and smooth and hot beneath Bitty’s hands.
All I can think of right now is Bitty with a big dog
That is a concept I thoroughly enjoy. Just Bitty at his home in Georgia, cuddling his best friend who is probably twice his size in his room or something. Or when he leaves for college, his dog running up to him and almost tackling him to the ground. Bitty bringing Jack home and having him meet this big, furry dog and Jack looking at Bitty like “how did you not get crushed”. Bitty and Jack getting a big dog of their own, spending their days off cuddling each other, and the dog laying right besides them in bed.
What she means: ok, but for real, who IS Specs? I mean according to his canon lines in the show and most general headcanons based on the cliché “sweet lil glasses nerd” trope, he’s really considerate and loyal and softspoken. Like this boy saw that the paper price was up and decided “huh maybe I’ll save my manhattan buddies the trip and check out the journal. oh diddly darn cheese and crackers it’s hiked up over there too”. But in the tour version, he’s the one that breaks in and out of the Refuge to get Crutchie’s letter. NOT JACK, the escaped convict. The only person ever known to “beat” the Refuge. Not the legendary Jack Kelly. Oh no. Freakin Specs McSweetiepants straight up BREAKS IN AND OUT OF JAIL to deliver a LETTER to this distraught sack of wild-west-themed emo fuck. Like. How does he know how to do that?? What has my baby known?? And then remember Jack’s super duper top secret art that reveals his soft tender side that he doesn’t even show Crutchie during the prologue?? - NO. NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT HIS ANGSTY PICASSO SHIT EXCEPT THIS BRAINY SMURF-ASS MOTHERFUCKER who sells out scary big bro Jack for LITERALLY NOTHING. Like did Katherine even ask??? Or was Specs just being beyond petty like “bitch you think that’s bad you should see these scribbles he does while blasting mcr on the roof and getting a noise complaint its fuckin pathetic” AND JUST LEAKED ALL THIS GARBAGE LIKE THIS BITCH AINT LOYAL BY ANY MEANS HUFFLEPUFF MY ASS. WHO. THE FUCK. IS. SPECS.