listen, i love jack ‘it’s only minus ten out i can wear shorts out’ zimmermann as much as everyone else but as anyone who lives in a cold place can tell you, we get VERY worried about people from warm places who clearly Do Not Understand How To Winter.
and while bitty is very good at bundling up he clearly doesn’t know what to wear out (he wouldn’t have to wear so many layers if he had good winter clothes after all) and it is Very Upsetting to jack. so every single time bitty visits jack starting from october, jack has another piece of high quality winter clothing waiting for him, whether it be double layered mittens, wool-lined boots, or a coat that feels like duvet.
so even though bitty still complains bitterly about the winter and (more amusedly) about jack’s wintery mother hen tendencies (”jack it’s the third of october, i don’t need woolen socks”) he’s at least warm which makes jack’s heart as toasty as bitty’s toes.
stop making bitty ride the amtrak to pvd…the boy works hard…he is tired…stop making him take 2+ hrs of public transit to get laid. let bitty use jack’s uber account like any good pro athlete’s booty call/love of their life
The nutritionists first catch wind of the underground network in Boston; something is off about their athletes and their sugar intake. Then reports pop up in Calgary, then Florida, then San Jose. In just a few weeks, the news of the jam has spread to all 31 teams.
The players are tight-lipped; all raving about the secret sweet condiment is shut down when the nutritionist is within earshot.
Some say Kent Parson missed a chance for a GWG because someone chirped him about having not tried the jam yet. Alexei Mashkov denies being the one that chirped him. Parson denies being the only one in the league to not have had the jam.
They suspect that the jam is getting shipped out of Nashville. “Only southerners,” they say.
No nutritionist suspects Providence, but all the players know they have to go through Jack Zimmermann to get the goods.
i need tater and bitty in an AU as private investigators and getting into all sorts of hijinks including:
returning the wrong dog to a woman who hired them to find her lost pet
doing the “bad cop/good cop act” where bitty is the bad cop for five minutes before offering the guy a pie or a sweater
tater climbing on top of bitty’s shoulders to break into someone’s house through their window
both of them falling asleep on each other’s shoulders during stakeouts
recovering an expensive piece of jewelry for a museum only to have it stolen twice more after that
meeting a woman who claims to be psychic and neither of them believe her until something freaky that she predicted comes true
spending a week at a “haunted” mansion that just turned out to be the groundskeeper with a projector and speakers
bitty tackling someone to the ground only to find out it was the wrong person
the two of them having to pretend they’re a couple during some undercover work
showing up at crime scenes, much to the annoyance of the handsome detective, jack zimmermann
making a wall of evidence complete with red string mapping out connections
in the early days, surprising each other with a skill set that the other didn’t know they had. for example: tater’s pretty good at hacking and bitty can pick a lock like no one’s business
tater tails a suspect, only to be outsmarted and tied up in the trunk of a car, but luckily, bitty also figures out who the murderer is, and saves tater from certain death
on slow days, floor hockey with meter sticks and a roll of tape in their office which happens to be above a russian bakery which they find out later is front for money laundering
working a case for a famous author, and to thank them, the author writes bitty and tater into his next novel. tater stands in line for almost three hours when it’s first released so he can get his copy
investigating a priceless, recently discovered painting, only to discover that it’s a fake and was made up by a con artist in the seventies
adopting a cat they found eating out of garbage bags in the alley, but then they can never agree on a name so the cat has two names
having a ten year old girl show up at their office with all the money in her piggy bank because she thinks her father was murdered even though the police ruled it as an accident. it turns out that she is right, and detective jack zimmermann has to begrudgingly accept that bitty and tater were useful
Jack is always first in bed. He has his routine of washing his face and teeth and peeing down to a science, a habit grown from constantly sharing hotel rooms and bathrooms, and, after making the decision to go to bed, Jack can be under the blankets in five minutes, tucked in and ready to sleep in seven.
Bittle is the opposite.
He has to be convinced to go to bed. There’s always something to watch or read on the internet, or he’s just found a new recipe that he needs to try out right this second for his viewers, Jack, they asked about vodka in pie crust and they need answers now. There’s never enough hours in the day for Bittle so his waking hours usually bleed into everyone else’s sleeping hours.
Jack worries sometimes, that Bittle doesn’t get enough sleep on the nights they’re in separate beds, so when they are together, he uses every dirty trick he can to get Bittle into bed at a decent hour. On nights when they lose their clothing on their way to the bed, Jack thinks Bittle has caught onto his tricks and is distracting Jack back in turn, but Jack rationalizes, they’re in bed so it’s basically a win.
Anyways, once Bittle has been convinced that going to bed is a good idea, he needs to get ready for bed. And if Jack has his bedtime routine down to a science, Bittle’s can be an art form.
First, he runs the water to get it to the perfect temperature, and pre-washes his face with a prepackaged wipe while he waits. The wipes he favours smell fresh and Jack likes holding them if he’s still in the bathroom while Bittle uses them, will even use one himself sometimes. When the water is just right, Bittle uses a sugar scrub and rubs it all over his face until it’s more foamy than grainy before he rinses it off. He pats his face dry and then using what he called a ‘toner’ the time he explained everything he does to Jack on a cotton pad, he rubs that all over his face. The smell of that stings Jack’s eyes, but Bittle insists that it’s an important step to make sure all the sunscreen he uses in the mornings is completely out of his pores.
Bittle flosses while he waits for the toner to dry, maintaining that he’d rather brush away all the bits of food when Jack argues for brushing then flossing. Bittle finishes his skincare routine by moisturizing his face, something that Jack can actually feel the benefit of everytime he touches Bittle’s face and then Bittle brushes his teeth for a full two minutes. Jack counts every time because at that point, he’s usually in their bed, blankets pulled back and waiting to be pulled over both him and Bittle.
The toilet in the ensuite flushes and the water turns on and off for the last time and Bittle appears in the connecting doorway. He pulls the t-shirt he’d been lounging in all day over his head and throws it in the direction of their shared laundry basket. It lands on top of the shirt that Jack discarded in a similar manner. Jack smiles.
“Finished?” he asks.
“Don’t you dare chirp me Jack Zimmermann,” Bittle says, as he plugs his phone into the charger on his side table. He climbs into bed dramatically. “Let me live.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Jack protests, wiggling into the middle so he can tuck himself against Bittle. He rests his cheek on Bittle’s chest and swings an arm across his stomach, pulling the blankets up so that his bare shoulder is covered.
“You were thinking it. You had your chirping face on.”
“I do not have a chirping face,” Jack mumbles, pressing his face into Bittle’s side. He’s warm and comfortable and ready to sleep, but even after all the time spent in the bathroom, Bittle will still scroll through his phone, checking through his apps before he shuts it off to sleep.
“You do sweetpea,” Bittle says, absently scratching his hand through Jack’s hair. Jack’s insides sing like they always do at the nicknames Bittle uses on a near-daily basis and uses Bittle’s hip to prop himself up so he can stretch for a minty goodnight kiss.
“Love you Bits,” Jack says.
“Oof, love you too,” Bittle groans. He pushes at Jack’s elbow so it collapses and he’s just sprawled across Bittle. Jack gets a forehead kiss for his troubles and he snuggles in to get comfortable.
Bittle will eventually get sleepy and put his phone aside to curl into Jack, but for now Jack is content to just lay against him and feel him breath. Even though Jack can usually convince his body to sleep soundly for six hours or so when he sleeps alone, nothing compares to how well he sleeps when Bittle’s there with him.
It’s a practiced art form.
i mean, using three words of a five word prompt counts, yeah? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
listen yall as someone who is southern i can tell yall that as soon as it gets windy in the fall people bring blankets to school (or at least the schools i went to) because we are weak™ but i bet bitty sometimes did too and continues to do it at samwell i bet he has a samwell hockey blanket and everything