Team Trophy Husband Jack
I honestly now want the fic where Jack might be an extremely successful hockey player, etc, but for the rest of the world who don’t follow NHL and sport news, he’s Eric Bittle’s trophy husband.
Eric Bittle, who has his own Cooking Show, a Baking Contest Reality TV spin off, a chain of bakeries expanding all over the country, a series of books, and is a guest editor in some cooking magazines.
He’s Beyonce’s go to guy for Blue Ivy’s birthday cakes.
So yeah, his husband married him for the money. Never mind that they are college sweethearts and they married before Bitty had his big break.
And Bitty married him for his good looks. I mean Jack looks like a model, has that amazing bod and booty and is pretty much silent anytime they are in front of the cameras, it is clear he’s the classic dumb jock stereotype.
Bitty always gets extremely offended by that, Jack thinks it’s hilarious. He might play it up sometimes just to get out of interviews.
Jack always endlessly amused that the paparazzi that follow them are there for Bitty. They don’t particularly care about Jack. Their photos appear in the magazines as “Eric Bittle and husband.”
Jack has managed his life long dream of achieving invisibility in the media by marrying somebody who overshadows him. It is everything he ever wanted. He brags about it to anybody who will listen.
Bitty remains annoyed.
Once they are home, after going to a premiere of something/red carpet event.
“You have won 3 Stanley Cups! One two weeks ago! Why don’t they ask you about that? They only asked you what you were wearing!”
“Hugo Boss” Jack says without missing a bit.
“You could try not to make it so easy for them.”
“You are enjoying this too much.”
“Besides Bitty, you ordered a Pumpkin Spice drink today and went to do your own grocery shopping, how could I compare to that?”
“Jack this isn’t funny! I’m proud of you and I want them to know that.”
“I’m proud of you too, I mean, look at you walking down the street with sunglasses on.”
“I hate you.”
“Oh look, you are cheating on me with Shitty, Ransom, and Chowder… oh, also with Lardo? Bitty, I could forgive the first three, but not Lardo!”
“That’s it, you cannot buy anymore tabloids.”
“But Bitty! This magazine says we are getting a divorce! If I hadn’t bought the magazine, I wouldn’t have known to start packing my bags. Also, I apparently didn’t sign any prenup, so you owe me a lot of money.”
“I might leave you for Lardo after all.”