Chapter Text
Flight 5696 to Boston delayed 6 hours, the sign reads. Departure at 1:15 AM.
“Now this is just unfair,” Bitty mumbles. He’d raced to the airport and arrived twenty minutes before the plane was supposed to depart, removing his shoes for security with the speed of a jet and hardly even putting them back on properly in his haste to get to his gate. Now he’s got six hours to spare.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice says behind him, and Bitty belatedly realizes he’s been standing in front of the departures sign with a grumpy look on his face for several minutes.
“Oh! Sorry,” he says, moving himself and his suitcase a few steps to the side. “Gosh, I hadn’t even realized I was standing there for so long. Too busy thinking about how I’m gonna get back to school, I guess.”
The (extremely attractive) stranger looks up at the sign and mutters something that’s probably a curse. “Six hours?”
“You flying to Boston too?” Bitty asks.
“Yeah. I was supposed to fly back with the rest of, um, my group, but I stayed a day extra and. Well.” He nods at the sign. “Surprising that they haven’t just booked us different flights and given us hotel rooms.”
“Guess so.” Bitty extends his hand. “I’m Eric, by the way, but my friends call me Bitty.”
The stranger shakes it. “Jack.”
He has extraordinarily blue eyes, Bitty notices before mentally brushing that thought away. “So you out here for work?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“No, just visiting some friends.” Ransom’s doing med school in San Francisco, and Holster had gone with him, having already made a sizable amount of money off the stock market and planning to use it as a venture capitalist. “It’s a good thing I planned to come back a few days early, though, because term starts Monday and if I cut it any closer I’d miss practice.” And class, but that’s less critical, as Bitty isn’t expected to captain any of his classes.
“Practice, eh?”
“College hockey, I’m the captain of my team so I kinda have to be there.”
Jack looks a bit more interested. “Which team?”
“Samwell?”
“Oh, I saw some of last year’s games on TV, then. In the Frozen Four.”
“You did?” Bitty has to admit it’s not every day that random people one happens to meet in an airport know anything about NCAA hockey, and even less that those people actually believe that he plays. “That’s amazing! Usually the only people I know who watch those are related to me.”
“I’m actually a pretty big hockey fan,” Jack confesses. “Between me and my friends, we watch the entire NHL season, some of the AHL, and most of the NCAA games. Especially the Frozen Four. You’re captain now? Weren’t there two alternates last year?”
“They were actually who I was visiting here. They both graduated.”
“Oh, cool,” Jack says, and that seems to be when they both run out of things to say, because they stand there for a few moments longer before a woman clears her throat behind them.
“Lord, I am just getting in everyone’s way today,” Bitty says, half to himself and half to Jack, as they move out of the woman’s path to the departures sign.
The corner of Jack’s mouth turns up in an approximation of a smile. “It’s not an issue.”
“Want to find seats at the gate?” Bitty suggests. “We’ll be here so long that there’ll probably be some competition.”
They find seats, but Bitty’s right in saying that there are a lot of people who want those seats. Jack asks Bitty to watch his things while he goes to grab some food, and returns with chicken nuggets, fries, and bottles of water for both of them.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Bitty protests, but half-heartedly. He and Ransom had grabbed scones and lattes before Ransom had a class, but that was four hours ago and his stomach is protesting the lack of dinner.
Jack raises his eyebrows and smiles a bit when Bitty still reaches out for the bag. “I remember being a college student. No money, but always hungry. Especially athletes.”
“You can’t be that much older than me.”
“I’m twenty-seven,” Jack says as he sits down. “But I got my degree not long ago. I took several years off before starting college.”
“Oh, I wish I’d done that.”
“No, you don’t.”
Jack must realize how odd his answer sounds, because he elaborates a bit. “I wasn’t planning to go to college, but I... wasn’t in great shape, and when I got back to a comfortable place it was the best path to take to get back on track.”
“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to,” Bitty says, because Jack is hunching up a little in his chair, and it’s astonishing how small a man who must be over six feet tall and broader across the shoulders than Bitty’s teammates can look.
He lets out a short, soft laugh, that isn’t because of anything funny. “It’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t know the story already, to be honest. Usually when I meet people they’ve already formed their opinions of me and I don’t get to change them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I wasn’t referring to you.” Jack eats another chicken nugget.
Bitty sips his water, but he doesn’t feel like they’re on equal footing, so he says, “I grew up in a small town in the south.” Jack doesn’t say anything, so Bitty continues. “Everyone knew everyone else, and everyone kind of... thought the same way. I met a lot of people who had only heard what other people said about me and didn’t feel like they needed to get to know me because of it. That’s part of the reason why I chose Samwell. It was great to go somewhere where nobody knew a thing about me, like having a blank slate, you know?”
“Yeah. It’s great to be somewhere where all people know about you is what you choose to tell them.”
Bitty laughs a little, but like Jack earlier, it isn’t because anything’s funny. “The only thing people ever said about me was that I was probably gay. Y’know, they turned out to be right, but I wish I’d gotten there on my own. I don’t want anyone to tell me who I am.”
Jack is quiet for a minute before saying, “I’ve been compared to my dad my whole life. We went into the same career, for one thing, but we look so alike too. I used to hate looking in the mirror because all I saw was him. And it wasn’t his fault, but for a long time people only thought of me as his son.”
“Do they think of you differently now?”
He chuckles, thinking of some joke only apparent to him. “I should hope so. If not, they will soon.”
“Planning something big?”
“Yes,” Jack says, still smiling a little wider. “I am. I should probably be nervous, but honestly, I can’t wait for Monday to come.”
Bitty can’t help smiling back. “I wish you the best of luck.”
“Thank you. That means a lot. Hardly anyone even knows I’m planning something. It’s odd to just be going through life and knowing that things are going to completely change soon, but almost nobody around you has a clue.”
“Wish I could say I knew that feeling.”
“Are you not out to anyone?” Jack says, and Bitty wonders how Jack knew precisely what he was talking about, but he doesn’t have much time to wonder because he has to answer the question.
“My teammates, yes. My family, no. Honestly, with the team, it wasn’t a challenge. They were all really supportive, and besides, it’s Samwell. It also helped that the alternates last year turned out to be dating each other, but overall the team was really great.”
Jack latches on to one phrase. “Your family?”
Bitty sighs. “I’d like to tell them, but they’re just so... so Southern. My dad’s a football coach, for goodness’ sake. And my Moo Maw’s very religious, I don’t know how she’d take it. Mom wouldn’t mind, but it’s hard to tell her and not everyone else.”
“My family’s not religious,” Jack says. “But they’ve also known I was bi since I was seventeen. If you rip the Band-Aid off, it won’t hurt as long.”
“I’ll keep that under advisement as best I can.”
“I’m coming out on Monday.”
Bitty takes a moment to keep track of where the conversation’s gone, but he catches up with Jack’s train of thought quickly. “That’s what your plan is?”
“Yes.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, you said that it was going to change everything? How does coming out change everything for you?”
Jack weighs his answer for a minute before saying, “Because I’ll be the first out player in the NHL. My dad definitely never did that.”
Bitty’s aware that he’s probably staring dumbly at Jack, but all he can manage is, “So. You’re in the NHL.”
“Yes.” Jack looks a bit uncomfortable. “Sorry I didn’t mention that earlier, but you said you were NCAA and I didn’t really want to get drawn into a conversation about hockey. It’s great, but you know. When it’s your life, it can get to be too much, eh?”
Bitty nods absently. “Well, all I can say is, thanks for deciding I wasn’t going to be a crazed fan!”
“Oh, you seemed too nice to hound me about Kent Parson.”
With that comment, everything clicks.
“Jack Zimmermann?”
Jack nods.
“You’re the captain of the Falconers.”
“Yes.”
“You’re coming out to the world on Monday.”
“Yes.”
“And you told me three days early.”
“Yes.”
“Why? I’m just some random person in an airport. For all you know, I could be a reporter pretending not to know who you are so you tell me things.”
Jack shrugs. “Why not? Also, reporters have tried that with me before, and none of them have ever chosen to pretend to be someone even remotely affiliated with hockey. The moment you said you were an NCAA captain, I knew you were genuine. Besides, you told me what school you play at. It’s easy enough to check the roster, and. Well. I did that when I went to go get food. It’s nice to meet you, Eric Bittle.”
“You as well, Jack Zimmermann.” Bitty’s quiet for a moment before he says, “I feel like we should shake hands again or something.”
“That’s fine.”
They shake hands. Jack’s hand is warm and surprisingly soft for a hockey player. He holds Bitty’s hand in a loose grip, the kind of handshake from a strong person who knows their own strength.
“Well, Bitty, you now know one more thing about me than almost the entire rest of the world.”
“Not once Monday rolls around,” Bitty reminds him.
“True.” Jack is silent for a minute. “Actually, as nice as this has been, I have some reading to finish, do you mind if I—?”
“Go ahead,” Bitty says. “I may as well get started on that reading I didn’t do over break. Do me a favor, if you notice me going on Twitter instead of reading, can you tell me to knock it off?”
Jack smiles, a full smile this time. “I can do that.”
“Good. Oh, wait, just one thing before I do start my reading.” Bitty pulls his phone out, tilting the screen towards Jack so he can see Bitty open his studying playlist. “Not Twitter, see? I just can’t focus without music on.”
“Beyonce,” Jack reads off the list. “I’ve heard of her, is she good?”
“Jack Zimmermann.”
“What?”
“Are you kidding me right— you’re not. Okay. For your information, Beyonce is the single best female artist to ever have existed and— actually, I’ll just show you. Do you mind using earbuds?”
“No?”
“Good.” Bitty plugs his earbuds into the jack— ha, Jack— and gives the left one to Jack while keeping the right one for himself. “Just listen, and if you’re not one of those people who can read with music playing, you can just hand that back to me once this song is done.” He scrolls down to the middle of the list and hits play on Halo, because obviously they need to start with a classic. Bitty digs his reading out of his backpack, but he has a hard time focusing on it, even with music playing, because Jack reads in an unfairly attractive manner. He purses his lips when he reaches confusing passages and turns the page slowly as he reads the last few words. Bitty has never paid attention to how someone reads before. He’d tell himself it was ridiculous, but honestly? What with how easily Jack mentioned his bi-ness, Bitty can’t shut his mind down with the ‘he’s probably straight’ argument.
His mind might spontaneously combust if Jack bites his lip again though.
Bitty wouldn’t even have noticed the end of the song, too busy trying to tear his gaze away from Jack and keep it on his Food Science PDF, but Jack pauses in his reading when Halo ends and says, “That was nice. Usually I’m more of a country person, but it was good, I liked it.”
“My dad lives and breathes country music,” Bitty comments as some other song starts up— he’s too busy thinking about Jack to even bother trying to identify it, which is a sure sign that he’s going up in flames.
Jack smiles softly at Bitty. “I’d like to meet him. Your mother, too. Anyone who helped raise you must be amazing.”
Bitty can’t stop the heat rising to his face, and he stops even trying to pretend to pay attention to his reading. “You’re a flatterer.”
“I don’t like lying,” Jack says matter-of-factly. “I don’t want to lie about anything.”
“I don’t want you to either.” The words come almost without Bitty thinking them first.
“Then you’ll forgive me asking you to come to our game against the Bruins tomorrow evening?”
“Only if you’ll forgive me for saying yes.”