((I may or may not have got a lil’ bit of inspiration from 5sos))
1. “Kiss me.”
It was Sunday night, and not to mention it was late, the loud ringing of your phone waking you from your near slumber. “Yeah?” you answer groggily, not bothering to look at the caller ID. “You’re awake,” the voice stated from the phone. “Yeah, Jack, I am now, no thanks to you” you smile at hearing your boyfriend’s voice, sitting up against the headboard of your bed.
Jack’s chuckle sounded through the speaker, “perfect, now open your door, its cold out here.” Without replying you hung up the phone and pulled yourself from the comfort of your bed and made your way to the front door, opening it to find Jack grinning at you. “Get dressed, I wanna get away for a bit” Jack pushed you back towards your bedroom. “Jack, I have work tomorrow!” you stumble over your feet. “Call in sick. Get dressed.” “Fine” you give in pulling an outfit from your closet.
“Where are we going?” you question, legs pulled up to your chest while sitting in the passenger seat of Conor’s car that Jack borrowed. “I don’t know” Jack shrugged, looking over at you and reaching his arm out to you to grab your hand in his. “Thats reassuring” “Shut up” Jack laughed.
You had been driving for just over an hour now and Jack had finally decided to stop somewhere. “Where are we?” you question your boyfriend again. “Like I said before, I don’t know” he smiled at you, opening his door and hopping out, gesturing to you to follow. Getting out of your seat, you had found that Jack had traveled further out into the country, it was quiet and all you could see was empty land.
Jack came up beside you and nudged your shoulder with his, holding his arms out revealing a blanket. Taking it from him, you laid it out on the floor pulling him down with you when you sat down. Laying down you looked up at the stars, they didn’t look like this back home. “Jack, look at the stars, they’re so pretty here” you say dreamily, turning your head slightly to look at him when you feel his fingers running through your hair softly. “I don’t need to. I have my own personal star laying right beside me,” he whispered lovingly, intertwining his fingers with yours, “even the darkest night has never felt so bright with you by my side.”
“Jack,” you whisper, it was rare that Jack would voice his feelings like this, it had you getting teary. “Kiss me.” he whispered. He didn’t have to say it twice as you leant up and connected your lips to his. The amount of love you had for this boy was indescribable.
It wasn’t your fault, you had been on holidays, away from Jack for a couple weeks, a couple weeks too long in your opinion. Being away from each other had made the two of you much more clingy and now, you tended to show more PDA than not.
Jack always made sure he had some type of physical contact between the two of you, whether it being his arm around your shoulders or your waist, his hand tightly holding onto yours, swinging them around when you walked around or his hand cheekily placed into your back pocket of your jeans. Without fail, you were both constantly touching each other.
Now you were laying across the couch with Jack practically underneath you, one of your hands placed on his chest and the other running through his hair as he whispered quietly about how he and Conor nearly left Anna stranded at a park when they were younger. The other boys were too engrossed in the movie that was playing on the tv to see that you and Jack were, once again, off in your own little world, not even paying attention to the movie.
“I love you, gorgeous” Jack whispered as he ran his fingers through your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too, handsome” you look up to his face and place a loving kiss to his lips. What was only meant to be a quick peck was slowly turning into a make-out.
“Can you two please get a room?” Mikey piped up from the other couch. “Yeah, you guys are making too much noise, I can hardly hear the movie” Josh joined. “Fine,” Jack huffed, standing up and taking your hand to pull you along with him, presumably to his bedroom.
Yo i see all these Check Please posts about Jack apologizing on behalf of the whole SMH team in their wake of destruction and annoyance but y’all lets be real isnt there literally an extra in which SMH all go to a quesadilla study event in Founders and they steal a whole tray of quesadillas and Jacks like
“boys im disappointed in you all. you didnt steal more trays of quesadillas you could have taken more”
Ok, hear me out. I know there is a lot of evidence pointing to Bitty being a good Southern Christian Gay and like, that is completely plausible and if that’s your jam, great! But because I love projecting and rubbing my Jew-y hands on everything, here is a theory about Bitty being an extremely assimilatory southern Jew who only really gets in touch with his culture and Jewish identity once he gets to college in the North East.
So I did some research and while “phelps” (Bitty’s maternal family name) isn’t the dead ringer that “Birkholtz” or “Zimmermann” is, it still has a history of being a Jewish surname in the Anglo-Saxon region. So to me, Bitty is Jewish on his mom’s side, but his paternal family is very southern Christian and so, really that’s what he grew up with, because being Jewish in the south? Well… that’s a whole thing.
My mom grew up in Atlanta Georgia, and in her high school, she was the only Jewish person by a long shot. My grandfather taught at Emory and so they didn’t belong to a temple, and went to Hillel sometimes during the bug holidays, but for he most part she wasn’t involved in religious affairs because it wasn’t “normal”.
I think something along the same lines happened to Bitty. His Moomah always made Jewish food for their family, but only made Southern food for company. At Chanukah, they would put up a Christmas tree, but put a Jewish star as an ornament and call it a “Chanukah bush.”
Bitty had a friend in second grade named Timmy who came over for a play date one day, only to never come back because his mom saw their mezuzah on the front door and forbid them from hanging out again. “Timmy doesn’t need to be influenced by that kind”
After that, well, Bitty stops asking his mama to make kasha varnishkas for his lunch (someone once told him it looked like he was eating pasta with dirt in it) and he stops going to temple on rosh hashana, and he starts calling his Christmas tree a Christmas tree. When someone tells him he “doesn’t look Jewish” he knows it’s a compliment.
The Monday at school after the Closet Incident, there’s a swastika keyed into his locker.
Because it’s one thing being the gay kid in a small town, it’s a whole other thing to be gay AND Jewish. It’s like he’s had two strikes against him since he was born.
When he moves to Madison he begs his mom not to put up a mezuzah. He can’t understand why she starts crying, but she doesn’t put it up. It’s a fresh start.
The rest of middle school and high school, Bitty secularizes.
When one of his teammates in his coed team tells him he’s acting “like a Jew” when he asks her for money for the team shirts, Bitty bites his tongue so hard he draws blood.
When all the kids in his tenth grade English class throw pennies at Mr. Bloom during his lecture on Eli Wiesel, Bitty stays after and helps pick them up.
Fast forward to freshman year at Samwell, and Bitty is hanging around the haus just before Rosh Hashana.
Holster is talking to Ransom and Jack about putting something together for dinner, maybe picking up some matzo ball soup mix and some ruggies from a deli near by.
Bitty, who shuddered at the though of soup coming out of a box blurted out without thinking “you know, I could whip up some of my grandmas matzo ball soup? And maybe some kugel?”
All three of the other boys look at him with wide eyes.
“I didn’t know you were Jewish Bittle,” Jack quirked a brow in intrigue.
“Well,” Bitty said, face heating up, “I- I’m not JEWISH Jewish. My mom is Jewish. My Moomah is Jewish, but ME? I don’t know.”
Everyone else seemed perplexed by this statement, but Holster’s eyes lowered a bit.
Bitty took that to mean ‘I hate you why would you say that you should just leave’ and promptly scrambled out the door, a whirlwind of “sorry got to go’s”
Later that week, someone knocked on Bitty’s dorm door, and that someone was Adam Jacob Birkholtz, certified Nice Jewish Boy and hulking mass.
“Uh, can we talk?” Holster asked a bit sheepishly.
Bitty agreed and lead them into his room.
Holster sat on his tiny bed and asked, “what did you mean before? When you said your mom and grandma are Jewish but not you?” It was tentative, but Bitty could tell the question wasn’t an accusation.
“Well I mean, I don’t really celebrate anything anymore. For all intents and purposes my house was a secular house all throughout middle school and high school.”
“But bitty,” holster sighed, “just because your half Jewish doesn’t mean you can’t be Jewish. And even if you aren’t practicing that doesn’t mean you can’t be Jewish either. I had a friend in high school that was half Jewish and people at temple would make him feel unwelcome. You don’t have to worry about that here.”
“Oh um, thanks? But it’s not that. Look, I know I’m Jewish. People have been making that clear to me for my whole life.”
“What do you mean?” Holster asked.
Bitty then began to regale all of the things he’s experienced. All of the prejudice, the slurs, the pennies, the swastikas. All of the pain that came with being the Jew in the south.
Holster listened, “Bits, that’s really rough dude. And like, I get it, some things are too painful. But it’s not like that at Samwell. Sure there are assholes everywhere, and it’s not like there’s never any antisemitism but, if you haven’t noticed based on the hockey team already, you aren’t alone here! There’s a whole Jewish community that’s got your back.
"Listen, why don’t you come to Hillel with me for Rosh Hashana, we can make your Moomas soup together! And maybe even Jack will help and not complain. Just, I don’t want you to have to feel like that about yourself.”
Bitty begins to decline the invitation but then something stops him. He remembers being a little kid, dipping apple slices in honey and chasing his mama around the house with sticky fingers.
“Alright I’ll go.”
And he does.
And he loves it.
He starts going to Hillel with Holster after that, and sometimes Jack tags along, sometimes so does Shitty. And in his Sophomore year, Nursey comes along with, and then his junior year comes Tango.
He makes matzo ball soup by the barrel, and re-learns the prayers for the Shabbat candles.
But it’s in his freshman year that he goes home for Winter break and pulls out the old Star of David ornament and puts it on the tree.
He asks his mom if he could help light the Chanukah candles and she looks shocked at first, but then she smiles and says “of course sweetheart.”
Later he hands her a present. It’s a long and thin box wrapped in silver paper with a little blue bow on top.
She takes it from his hand carefully, like its a shard of glass or something.
Because it was requested. I usually don’t do vampire Jack things. For those who are curious as to why that is: It’s because I edit Jack as a werewolf. Y’see I got into my mind that it would be fun to try something different than the normal. Most people edit Jack as a vampire and Mark as a werewolf. So, I switched that up and edit Jack as a werewolf and Mark as a vampire. I never said this would be an interesting explanation.
zimbits. “Less homicidal thoughts about your annoying coworker right now, please. I’m in a meeting over here.” pLEASE
Charlie asked for this about 30 years ago but I’m just getting around to it now. It’s prompt from this list.
If he thinks I’m going to let a single tart anywhere near his ruinous Trump-sized hands he’s got another thing coming. Actually, no. He can have as many tarts as he wants. Kill ‘em with kindness, and arsenic worked into the whipped cream. I’d have to add more vanilla to balance it out but–
If Jack wasn’t in a sponsorship meeting, he would be inclined to promptly bash his head into the wood of the table. It had been like this for a few weeks ago, a voice filtering in at the most inopportune times, going on diatribes against who he was presuming was the voice’s coworker (”–even the way he counts out change is annoying. The Lord is testing me. We should’ve kept the antique register, it would have hurt more when I ‘accidentally’ shut the drawer on his fingers that he just licked to count out the bills. Yes, I would LOVE my spit covered change. THANK YOU.”)
Unfortunately, Jack thought it was unlikely that NIKE would appreciate their new brand ambassador actively giving himself a concussion, so he shot the representative across the table a smile and nodded to whatever was being said before reverting back inside his head.
As ambitious as your assassination attempt is, if you could keep it to yourself I would appreciate it.
There wasn’t even a moments pause before he got his reply.