A/N: I wrote this before the year 2 finale, so... Well, it goes against what actually happened when Jack visited the Bittles for the Fourth of July. Sorry!
...
Bitty is shocked when he opens his door in the middle of summer to see Jack, duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a small smile on his face. He gapes at Jack for a minute, then turns around to gape at his mother, who is grinning.
Bitty steps backward, silently gesturing the other boy inside. Finally, Mama Bittle takes pity on him. "I was Skyping Bob, and when I saw Jack, I thought we should invite him over for the party."
His immediate reaction is mortification at the thought that their parents have advanced to the level of Skyping. His second is quiet excitement and gratitude to his mom. His third… "For the Fourth of July? But he's Canadian."
His mom's eyes widen like she'd completely forgotten that fact, and they both turn to look at Jack worriedly. He shrugs. "Regardless of the reason, I couldn't miss a party that includes your cooking." Bitty flushes in pleasure, but it turns to a scowl when he realizes that the statement was aimed at his mother. Jack catches the look and flashes a small smirk at him.
"Well, our very own Captain is in Georgia," Bitty says to change the subject. He ignores the voice in the back of his head screaming that Jack isn't their captain anymore, the same way he's been ignoring it for the past two months. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. "I think this needs to be documented!"
Jack rolls his eyes but doesn't object. He lets Bitty push him and Mama Bittle closer together and even takes off the Falconers hat and indulges him with a smile. Bitty snaps the picture and instantly tweets it. His mother leaves them alone after making him promise to send the picture to her.
"I've only been here for five minutes and you're already tweeting, huh, Bittle?" Jack says over his shoulder.
Bitty jumps, unaware that he'd moved, then tweets, "Goodness, y'all! He's only been here for five minutes and he's already chirping me!" followed by a chick emoji. He smirks, well aware of the fact that Jack is reading over his shoulder. Then he sends the picture out to the SMH group chat, puts his phone on silent, and slips it back into his pocket.
"You got here just in time," he says, wandering over to the oven. He checks to make sure the pie is done and pulls it out to cool. "Now I understand why she suggested the maple sugar crusted apple. She asked you what your favorite was, right?"
Jack nods, and Bitty dishes up a slice for each of them. They sit down at the table and eat quietly for a few minutes. Soon enough, though, the silence gets to him. It isn't comfortable like it used to be. Of course he's happy to see Jack again, but… they haven't talked since he graduated. Jack was probably too busy preparing for hockey season with the Falconers, and Bitty could never think of anything to say that wouldn't give too much away. "So… Have you picked out a place yet?" he asks awkwardly. Last he'd heard, Jack had been searching for an apartment in Providence.
Jack shakes his head and starts rummaging through his bag. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."
Bitty smiles but tilts his head in confusion. "Me?"
"Yeah. I told you we'd take pictures of all the kitchens," he says, laying photos out on the table.
Bitty laughs. "I didn't think you were serious!"
"Of course I was."
Right, of course he was. Jack always means what he says. He should have known better.
"I thought you would know what looks best," Jack continues. "And you'd probably use it more than me when you visit."
'When, not if,' Bitty notes, unable to tamper down a smile and light blush. "Is this really a factor in your choice?" he asks, still not quite able to believe it.
Jack just looks at him like the answer is obvious. "Why wouldn't it be? You're happiest baking in a nice kitchen, right? I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."
Bitty has to look away for a moment, heart clenching painfully. 'This boy,' he thinks. 'He doesn't even realize what he's implying.' He forces himself to look back with a smile, but he can't quite meet Jack's eyes, instead staring at a point over his shoulder. "Right, let's take a look, then," he says. He pours over the pictures for a few minutes, shifting them into different piles. Finally, he sits back, glancing over them one more time. "Well, obviously I can't tell exactly how good they are or how well the ovens work just from looking," Bitty says. He points to a group of five pictures. "But these look the best from what I can see." Honestly, only three of them would really meet his standards, but he didn't want to limit Jack's options based on his opinion of a kitchen he probably wouldn't even see in person. Besides, even if he did visit and cook there, he could work with anything with a functioning oven, and just about anything was better than the Haus.
Jack smiles. "Great. I really liked this apartment," he says, pointing to one of Bitty's three actual choices. He can't help that his heart leaps just a tiny bit. "It has a lot of space, it's close to the rink, and the view from the balcony is amazing." He gathers up the pictures, replacing them with a single one of the aforementioned view. There are enormous buildings in the background, but the majority of the picture is taken up by an expanse of water, trees lining it and reflecting off the edges.
"It looks great," Bitty says. "Your photography really is amazing."
Jack allows a rare proud smile. "Thanks. I've been taking a lot of pictures lately. It's a lot of fun."
"I'm glad." What he doesn't say is that he's glad Jack's finally found something he can enjoy and take pride in other than hockey; something that he won't be compared to his father for.
They lapse back into silence, and Bitty slowly eats the last few bites of his pie just to have something to do. "The real celebrations won't actually be until tomorrow," he says eventually. Jack hums in understanding. Bitty doesn't really want to ask, but he does anyway. "Have you met Coach yet?"
"No. Is he here?"
Bitty sighs. "Yes. I guess we should probably go introduce you."
...
Overall, the night doesn't go nearly as badly as it could. In fact, Jack and Coach get on just as well as Bitty had feared they might, though Jack clearly has a bit of trouble hiding how uncomfortable he is with all of Coach's talk about Bad Bob Zimmerman.
Eventually, his father retires for the night, and Bitty finally relaxes. Jack glances over when he lets out a sigh. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Bitty answers, nodding. He hadn't even realized how nervous he was until Coach left the room. Now he realizes that he was scared of them all being in a room together because Coach might somehow figure out that Bitty had feelings for Jack, but obviously he can't say that. He puts on a half-smile. "Just a little tired."
"Well then, let's go to sleep," Jack says, already standing up.
Bitty motions for him to sit back down, but he doesn't. "It's fine," he insists. "I'll last a while longer, and it's not like you're here every day."
"No, let's go," Jack repeats. "I should get up early to jog anyways. I know I can't practice while I'm here, but that's no reason to slack."
Bitty laughs and stands up, stretching. "Alright, alright." He leads Jack to his room. There's a sleeping bag that his mother left on the edge of the bed, and Jack starts to lay it out. Bitty shoos him away. "You're our guest, Jack Zimmerman. I'm not letting you sleep on the floor," he says sternly.
"Okay. I'll take the couch then," Jack says, heading for the door.
Bitty grabs his arm and motions to the bed. "I'll take the floor," he says. Jack sits down but lets out a quiet laugh, and Bitty raises an eyebrow. "Southern hospitality is no joke."
"I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor, Bittle. This is your home."
"Well, I'm certainly not going to make you sleep on the floor."
Suddenly, Jack grabs Bitty's wrist and pulls him to sit down on the bed next to him. "We'll both sleep here, then," he says, like it's a completely rational compromise. Bitty sputters for a minute, and Jack adds, "If you have a problem with it, I'll take the floor."
Bitty hangs his head and sighs in defeat. "Fine, we'll share the bed," he says, trying to hide his blush. "I'm going to change." He stands up, grabs his clothes, and rushes to the bathroom. Usually he sleeps in just boxers, but he opts for shorts and an undershirt tonight. When he comes back, he knocks on the door lightly. "Are you decent?"
"Yeah," Jack answers, and Bitty enters, closing the door behind him. "I don't understand why it matters though. We shared a locker room for two years, Bittle."
Jack is just wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, and Bitty forces himself not to stare at his bare chest. He putters around the room instead, rolling the sleeping bag back up, and shrugs. "That's different." Bitty's glad Jack doesn't ask how it could be different, because he's not sure he could explain even if he wanted to.
When he's done, Bitty stands back up, hands on his hips, and Jack motions toward the bed. Bitty flips off the light switch and fumbles back, hands out to find the bed. He crawls as far over as he comfortably can and faces the wall. He feels the bed shift as Jack climbs in and pulls the covers over them and forces himself to breathe evenly.
It takes a long time to fall asleep.