Chapter Text
Jack wasn’t about to tell Shitty this, but yes, he had missed Hazeapalooza his first year on purpose. Johnson had taken him aside, warned him what was going to happen and said, “If there’s any of that you aren’t ready to deal with, you might want to consider going out of town two weekends from now.”
And yeah, Jack didn’t feel comfortable getting drunk or explaining to the entire team why he couldn’t just yet. So, he made himself scarce that weekend.
Johnson had also said, “It’s better for the plot if you miss it anyways,” but he was a really good goalie, so Jack had learned to just let that weird shit slide.
The next two years it seemed either no one remembered he had missed out, or no one wanted to challenge their Captain. Either way, Jack had been okay with that at the time. At this particular moment though, he’s wishing he had gotten this out of the way before.
Yes, he was aware that this was a thing that gets him, and he knew it was going to happen. But if literally anyone but stupid, fucking perfect, Eric Bittle was the one to tie his hands, things would have been much less—um—exciting.
From the second Bitty had come at him with the tape pulled out and a smirk on his face, Jack was on fire. By the time he had one loop of tape around his wrists, Jack was shifting his weight around, trying to find any way of standing that made his growing issue less obvious. Crisse, did they really have to be half naked for this?
It feels like an eternity with Bitty so close to him. Jack tries to level his breathing, but his mind keeps providing him with half-formed images of him dropping to his knees or his bound hands inned above his head. Everything’s fine, no one’s noticed; the team is going to go out in the cold and his little problem would settle—
“Think that’ll hold you?” Bitty asks as he tugs playfully on the tape on his wrists.
Merde, that smirk should be illegal. Jack squeezes his eyes shut, trying his best to erase that tantalizing image from his mind. It is not a sex thing. Do not make this weird. It is not a—
“Jack, are you okay?”
The gentle touch of Bitty’s hand on his arm startles Jack to open his eyes. The mischievous look from a moment before has been replaced by one of concern. Jack winces. It has never been more obvious that he does not deserve this man. He’s just trying to be helpful, and Jack can’t stop perverting it, imagining him whispering gentle words in his ear, checking in as he holds Jack down on the bed…
“Hey, if this is freaking you out, none of us is going to make you do it.”
Well, freaking out is probably an accurate description, even if the true cause is probably not what Bitty thinks.
“I’ll let you out, I’m sure Shitty can think of something else to do,” and then Bitty reaches for his hands, and so he has to look down, and then of course he…sees.
“Oh!” It’s more of a squeak than anything else. They stare stunned at each other and Jack is pretty sure he’s just as red as Bitty.
“Sorry, I…” He wants to run, maybe lock himself in his room and not come out until hockey season. Bitty’s still cradling his wrists in one hand though, so he can’t and maybe he shouldn’t. “I mean I have a thing for…” God, why is this so damn difficult? He can’t seem to force a single coherent phrase past his lips, so he gives up and just gestures weakly at Bitty with his bound hands.
“Oh,” Bitty whispers, “for being tied up or for...” and then quieter still “…me?”
In terms of embarrassment, he’s already standing in his boxers three feet from the entire hockey team with a waning erection, so he might as well go for broke.
“Well…both.”
Jack can’t even bring himself to look at Bitty’s reaction. This could either be the worst or best decision he’s ever made, and it all comes down to what happens next.
“Lord that’s a hell of a thing to spring on a guy.”
That’s—well it’s certainly not good. He doesn’t want to lose it with everyone here and ruin their fun, but he can feel the tension building in every nerve of his body. Why does he have to fuck up everything in his life? Couldn’t he just ask his crush out like a normal person, not—
“Hey, hey Jack, come back to me honey.”
Jack manages to pry his eyes open again. Bitty is still close, resting his hand on Jacks arm.
“I was just surprised that’s all.” Bitty ducks his head, “But I like it—I mean, like you, too.”
When he looks back up, his face is impossibly redder than it was before, but he is smiling. The miracle of Bitty’s smile is that it so often washes away Jack’s grief. It’s how he knew months ago. But now, this particular smile, it means something more. He can feel the corners of his own mouth curling up until they are both just grinning ridiculously at each other. It’s enough that he doesn’t notice the rest of the team has finally managed to subdue Dex and Nursey until Shitty starts hollering.
“ALRIGHT, Let’s get these Frogs fucked up! Everyone out the—Bitty why is your man not wearing his blindfold?”
Fucking Shitty.
Bitty chuckles and pulls a piece of fabric from his back pocket in a mockery of seduction.
“So Mr. Zimmermann, how do you feel about blindfolds?”
As it turns out, Jack feels pretty good about blindfolds.
Especially when it means Bitty keeps taking his arm and resting his hand on the small of his back. Also, sometimes his hand is definitely deliberately lower than Jacks back in a way that really seems to promise they will be continuing their conversation later.
Probably the best thing though, is how Bitty seems to oscillate between teasing and gentle concern that he might overstep Jack’s boundaries. It’s sweet and also it’s exactly the reason he feels safe wanting this with him.
The thrill of it all makes him bold. He thinks he manages to chirp Shitty more in that one evening than probably their whole friendship. Even the Frogs’ fawning over him seems cute rather than draining. They’re all good guys really. If he could manage to ease up like this more often, it could be a good year. Even better if something really is developing with Bitty.
So, he lets himself be dragged all over the campus and smiles the whole time.