(Thank you to @marswithghosts! We were talking about this, and she graciously allowed me (and, in fact, encouraged me!) to take her idea and write it. Some of the chirps are hers, because she is hilarious. She’s also a wonderful friend!)
They had had a moment, standing just inside the door. Jack was already wearing his coat and hat (and God if Bitty didn’t love that hat!), a bag full of tupperware hanging of one forearm. Bitty stood in front of him, hands resting on Jack’s chest as he leaned in and up for one last kiss. It was sweet, and soft, and when it was done, Bitty wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck, wanting just one more moment of this perfect holiday.
“I love you, Jack. Drive safe, and text me when you’re home, okay?”
“Of course, Bits.” Jack pulled him even closer, the bag on his arm swinging a little, aided by the smooth slide of Bitty’s socked feet on the hardwood floor.
For one more moment, they hung on to each other, before the began to untangle themselves. Bitty still wasn’t used to this feeling, how different the separation felt when they got to decide what the last moment would be like, didn’t have to brace themselves, to remember who knew what and what couldn’t be said. It wasn’t easy, but knowing that they didn’t have to worry if Chowder wandered across the hallway in search of more pie made a world of difference.
Jack had just pulled open the door, Bitty standing just behind it, wanting to watch Jack as long as he could without letting too much of the cold air touch his skin, when Lardo shouted from down the hall, “You need to get a room, Bits!”
Jack threw his head back and laughed as he started down the path. Even when he turned around to wave, Bitty could still see the little shakes of his shoulders as fresh waves passed over him.
i. oh death // jen titus ii. fresh blood // eels iii. bad intentions // digital daggers iv. evil ways // blues saraceno v. death valley // fall out boy vi. arsonist’s lullaby // hozier vii. killing strangers // marilyn manson viii. foreigner’s god // hozier ix. everybody wants to rule the world // lorde x. seven devils // florence and the machine xi.
irresistible // fall out boy xii. black bat licorice // jack white xiii. nicotine // panic! at the disco xiv. dream lover // the vaccines xv. kings // tribe society xvi. broken crown // mumford & sons xvii. blood on my name // the brothers bright xviii. high tide rising // fox xvix. i will wait for you // mumford & sons xx. black // kari kimmel xxi. haunting // halsey || LISTEN
I’ve had lovers, I’ve had boyfriends, but what I’ve never had is a boy who is, first and last, a friend. Who wasn’t secretly trying to get in my pants or wouldn’t walk away from me the second I said I didn’t wan’t to sleep with him. Who liked me…for me.
Jack checks the locks on the front door of his apartment, making sure they’re latched, before switching off the light in the living room, then getting the one above the stove. He checks the lock at balcony as well–habit–and pads quietly down the hallway toward the bedroom where light pools through the open door, golden and warm.
Bittle’s in bed already, propped up against the pillows he’s commandeered for his side. (His side, Jack thinks, heart fluttering. Bitty’s.) He’s got his knees pulled up beneath the comforter, and Jack can just see Señor Bun’s ears peeking out from his lap as Bittle does…something on his phone. Tweeting, probably, about his first night officially moved to Providence in Jack’s apartment. Their apartment. Jack could chirp him–will later–but for now…Bittle hasn’t noticed him in the doorway.
Jack takes in the soft tufts of Bittle’s hair, the way the bedside lamp catches on it, making Bittle glow. He looks happy, there in bed, happy and sleepy in a way that makes Jack’s heart clench in his chest. Bittle is really here. His toothbrush sits beside Jack’s in the bathroom, his shampoo is in the shower. His running shoes are next to Jack’s at the front door and his clothes hang next to Jack’s in the closet and Bittle himself is waiting in bed with his Falconers shirt and his bright eyes and that smile he saves for Jack, only for Jack.
“You gonna stand there all night like a creeper, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bittle says, not looking up from his phone, “or are you gonna join me?”
Huffing a laugh, Jack steps through the doorway. “Hadn’t decided.”
Bittle mock frowns and sets his phone on the nightstand. “Oh, well, that’s a shame.” He pats the bed beside him, eyebrow raised. “Seems like an awful big bed for just me, don’t you think?”
Jack pretends to contemplate this for a moment, and then he grins, his thighs tensing. “You know, I think you’re right.”
He launches himself at the bed, pleased with Bittle’s laughing yelp, the way Bittle’s fingers tangle in Jack’s t-shirt, the way Bittle smiles up into his kiss, like this is all either of them have ever wanted.
Dawson’s Creek Meme — favorite season (as vote by my followers): Season 4. The only really excited things in life require more courage than we currently have. You know, deep breath and leap. That kind of fear…sometimes, it’s how you know what’s worthwhile.
Positive Feedback by jedusaur [Eric’s never had a postgame breakdown of sex before, but he’s not particularly surprised when, before they’ve even caught their breath, Jack says, “Tell me how I can do better.”]
Positive Image by twentysomething [When Bittle first showed up at a meeting with management, sitting next to Sara with wide, scared eyes, Jack didn’t think he had a chance in hell. Sara hired new assistants all the time, most of whom barely made it through a season.]