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justjessame · 4 years

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Put Me In Coach Chapter 26

It happened pretty fucking quickly. The loss of Denise followed by Maggie’s pregnancy being in danger and then, Abraham and Glenn were dead. At the hands of a shadowy figure that Rick and his group whispered about, but that I didn’t really acknowledge since I still had a few kids to teach. Eric was still going on runs, Steven had taken over for Reg and was working with Eugene to keep the walls strong.

Trey was growing like a little weed. I’d started to keep track of his growth on the door frame of my bedroom. A notch for every six months after his first birthday. Two marks, and I almost didn’t believe that a little person could grow that much in six months. I was with him, inside, when I heard the commotion outside. A pounding on the gates, metal on metal it sounded like, and must have been since our house was further back than anyone else’s and the sound carried.

I picked up Trey and walked to the bay window in the living room and knew, as I watched the hard looking people wandering through the streets, that the big bad wolf had come to visit. Little did I know at that moment, that I knew that wolf intimately.

I’d just stepped out onto my porch as I heard the whistle. And then his voice. A voice that I’d know anywhere. A voice I’d heard moan, scream, growl, and demand. My head jerked toward the sound, and there he was, like a walking dream or nightmare. Wearing the jacket I’d given him, the swagger of his hips, and the scruff I’d told him repeatedly that I loved.

“Mama?” Trey’s tiny hand cupped my cheek forcing my eyes to land on his little pinched face. “K?”

I nodded, kissing his forehead to sooth him, and me if I was being fucking honest. “Yeah, Mama’s ok, baby.”

“Holy fuck!” I felt my stomach twist and I knew, without a fucking doubt, that Negan had seen me. “AMARA?!”

And there he was, standing at the foot of the steps of my porch, looking up at me like he was seeing a ghost. I could fucking relate. “Negan.” I was happy to hear my voice sound steady and not even slightly breathless. “Rick.” I saw our leader looking like the beaten puppy he’d resembled since coming back without Glenn and Abraham.

“Mama?” Trey’s hand came back to my cheek. I could feel his stress, and I kissed his forehead again, seeing Negan’s eyes widen.

“Mama?” His deep voice repeated, staring between Trey and I. “How fucking long have we been apart?”

I rolled my eyes. “Trey, sweetie, can you go inside and find uncle Steven?” I set him on his tiny feet and opened the front door. “Tell him to come outside after he gets you a drink, we have a visitor.” I knew that the entire message would be lost in translation, but I didn’t want my little boy to witness whatever was coming. Turning back to find Negan still staring at me like I wasn’t only a ghost, but that I was a fucking ghost he didn’t really know was almost priceless. “Mary made me promise to take care of him if anything happened- Not that I owe you an explanation.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So Coach Negan is the big bad, times don’t change much, do they?”

A woman rushed up to him and they had a quiet heated debate, and then there was a gunshot from the direction of our infirmary and I felt vindicated when he turned to rush toward the sound. But then, asshole that Negan was, he turned back to me and said that one word that once help promise, but now sounded like a goddamn threat, “Soon.”

Carl had fired the shot, I learned later. All the guns were being confiscated, which became a true problem when the inventory was short. Poor Olivia, she’d taken over when Mary passed, was probably in a fit of fear and worry with Negan and his band of assholes. They went house to house, including ours. Steven had come out just as Negan turned the corner to find out the source of the gunshot, and once I told him he was cursing Eric going on a run.

Negan returned, after the mattresses were removed from ALL the beds (except cribs, thank God), and then the bed frames were taken too. Guns, beds, mattresses wasn’t he just amazing? He came bounding up the steps and demanded that I come with him, to his headquarters, and I could bring Trey with me.

“No.” Short and sweet, and I saw his eyes flash at my unwillingness. “This is our home, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Fine,” and I felt vindicated and like I’d won a victory. “Kill that one-” he pointed at a random neighbor and I saw the same woman who’d tattled about whatever earlier raise her gun.

“WAIT!” I looked down at the man I’d once thought I’d live the rest of my life with, and saw a complete stranger standing in his spot. “I’ll come, but Trey stays.” I swallowed past a lump that was forming in my throat. Trey was inside with his toys during this, and I walked inside and told him I had to go for a very short trip, but that his uncles would be with him the entire time. Steven was looking very green, having witnessed our showdown through the same bay window I’d stood in front of earlier that day. “Don’t worry,” I told him, giving him a hug of his own. “I’ll be back, I swear.” He didn’t look convinced, but he knew that Trey could pick up on our stress so he forced it down. “Now,” I held out my hands and Trey launched himself into my arms. “Kiss Mama goodbye, and I’ll make uncle Stevie promise two bedtime stories.” Trey gave me a wet sloppy kiss on my cheek and I smacked my lips against his cheek loudly getting a giggle. “I love you, baby.”

“Love ya,” and then he was wiggling to be let back down. I set him down, gave him a long lingering look because I wanted nothing more than to stay with him and read books all night long, but instead, I would go with Negan if only to save another life.

The ride to wherever he was taking me was quiet and strained. He knew me well enough to know that he couldn’t force me to speak if I didn’t want to. Negan did try, however, to get me to say anything. I think he was shocked by how angry I seemed. How irritated his very presence was, and of course he thought he knew the answer.

“Who is he?” I waited, wondering what the fuck he meant. “Amara, who is he?”

I finally turned to face him, happy to see he was paying attention to the road. I studied his profile, seeing the very subtle differences that eighteen months could create on someone’s face. I wondered if I looked different to him?

“Answer me, princess.” I snorted and he shot me a look. A glare actually.

“First of all, I’m not a princess.” I turned back to stare out my window. “Second of all, you don’t fucking have any fucking right to order me to do anything.” I heard his sharp intake of breath at this. “And lastly, I’d answer your idiotic question if I knew what the fuck you were asking. Who’s who?”

I could hear the leather of his gloves tighten on the steering wheel. “Whoever you ended up with.” What? I was forced to turn to face his profile again. Was he insane?

“The fuck are you talking about?” I sounded as uneducated as his question would assume he was. “Who the fuck has time for romance now?!”

“Romance?” It was his turn to snort. “No one said ‘romance’, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart either, Negan.” I growled, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from the sharp lines of his face, the curve of his lips, the scruff I’d always wanted him to sport, but he hadn’t because he thought it looked too dangerous for a coach.

Another clutch of his gloves against the wheel. “Not mine, then whose?”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I refused to face him again, clearly he’d gone completely bonkers from the strain of the world collapsing. “I’m not with anyone, unless you count Eric and Steven, then I guess I’m the unicorn in a gay marriage, but I’m the unicorn that doesn’t get fucking touched, you asshole.”

“Are you trying to tell me that in a year and a half, you haven’t once had anyone-”

“Stop right fucking there, Negan.” Still staring at the nonexistent view outside the steadily moving truck I felt like I wanted to reach over and slap the shit out of him. “Again, none of your fucking business, but NO, there’s been NO ONE since the world went to shit.”

“I-” He started, but I went on.

“Is this your way of easing me into the conversation about your mistress? Did you rescue her and are you taking me to show me that you found your ‘one’?” I snarked at him, thinking that sounds about right. He just stole the beds of an entire community to show what a big cock he had, so why not show your ex that you leveled up during the apocalypse?

“Mistress?” He sounded uncertain, but I didn’t check to confirm. “Sweet- Amara, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The redhead?” I offered, rolling my shoulders to release the rapidly building tension in my neck. “You know, the naked one in the selfie you two took in her bed?” I waited, but nothing came from his side of the truck. “Too vague? Maybe you had a LOT of redheads that took naked selfies with you in their bed, wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Amara,” it came out as a whisper, and it sounded pained, but I didn’t care. “Why didn’t you say-”

“When?” I finally turned and saw that his eyes looked pinched with whatever emotion he was feeling currently. “When was I supposed to say it? When you rushed off to supposedly your ex wife’s deathbed? When you were rushing to a job that you didn’t need to take? When you barely spoke to me when you picked up a bag I PACKED FOR YOU to leave me with?” I watched him swallow hard. “I was so fucking stupid wasn’t I?”

“You don’t understand.” Negan’s voice sounded like he was fighting a cold, it was hard to hear.

I snorted again. “Damn right I don’t.” I turned back to the window. “Take me back, Negan. Back to my son, back to my family. This is pointless.”

He didn’t, because of course he didn’t. Instead, the ride was silent again. I didn’t pay attention to the route, I knew that I’d be back in Alexandria soon, but I would be driven back by one of his people. I wouldn’t have to come alone. And I wouldn’t have to stay in his presence for much longer. I’d let him have whatever say he thought he needed, and hopefully, I’d be home by morning.

The Sanctuary. What could be said about the Sanctuary? It was a former factory, clearly. It was ‘secured’ by foaming at the mouth dead, which was an interesting touch. And the people that lived there appeared to be a cult.

What else would you call a bunch of assholes that knelt in the dirt as Negan of all people walked by? Or God help me, who answered “I am Negan” or “Negan” when the asshole next to me asked them who they were. Seriously, what was in the fucking water here? Note to self: Don’t fucking drink ANYTHING in these walls.

The harem. That was what I had a feeling was coming. That’s a lie. I’d assumed that I’d fucking meet my replacement, absolutely, but I had no idea that my replacement was a multitude.

I shook my head as they clamored for his attention, realizing that Daryl was standing next to me with a start. I’d forgotten that he’d been taken, and he looked terrible. Dirty, but that was normal for Daryl, and those sweats? Ew. He was looking down and I wondered if it was because of me.

“Daryl?” I kept my voice down, I had learned that trick from Negan after all. I saw Daryl’s fist flinch so I knew he heard. “Are you alright?” Another flinch, this time in his shoulder. Shit, had this moron hurt him? “Damn him.”

“Amara,” I glanced up and saw that Negan was watching me. I raised an eyebrow and waited. “Come with me, please?” Ah, not an order, how lovely. “D, take our guest back to his rooms.” He shot a look toward Daryl and I felt my stomach twist.

Wondering if I should just put my foot down and demand my return to Alexandria, I looked around the room his little women were loitering in and I felt my lips go tight. MY FURNITURE. This was the furniture from our house, the family room to be exact. That fucking ass-

“Amara?” My eyes flashed to his and I saw him gulp again. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” Good idea, wouldn’t want your fucking cocubines to see me rip you asshole to sternum, would you?

I stalked toward the door he was holding open for me and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was radiating rage. And if he assumed the room he brought me to would lessen it, he was a fucking moron. Our living room furniture in one corner and MY FUCKING BED right there.

“You motherfucking-” I felt his hand on my elbow and jerked free, ignoring the tingle his skin created against mine. Turning to face him I almost got the rest unleashed, but Negan never fights fair, ever. He tugged me to him and then his lips met mine and I felt it still. The same rush, the same need, and God fucking help me the same love.

He nipped at my lower lip and I sighed, letting his tongue in for a dance with mine. And my hands found the back of his head, and my body was flush against his and I didn’t care for a moment about the text or the other women just outside. All I cared about was the way he felt against me. The taste of his mouth. The scent of him. And the fact that I missed him. That I felt more relief that I wanted to admit to that he was alive. And that I wanted him. Just as much as I had the very first time we kissed.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed when we came up for air, his breath fanning my wet lips. “I was so fuckin’ scared that you were GONE.” And then he dipped back in for more and I forgot why I didn’t want this, him. Why I needed to go home, why this was a bad idea. “I love you, Amara.”

That was the trigger, it seemed, hearing him say he loved me let me pull away. I gave a harsh laugh. “You love me?” I shook my head and walked toward one of the windows that was dressed in the curtains we’d chosen for our living room. “Love? You LOVE me?” I wondered when the words would make sense again. “There are how many women outside sitting on MY fucking furniture, waiting to TOUCH you, Negan?”

I heard him sigh. Exasperated, that’s rich. “I know how it must look-”

If I kept snorting, Eric was going to end up calling me Miss Piggy, I fucking knew it. “It looks like you replaced me pretty fucking easily, Negan.” I turned and took note of a baseball bat wrapped in barbwire. “Interesting weapon.” I saw him flinch. “Wait, why did you look like that when I-”

Another gulp from him and his eyes tightened. “Lucille?”

“What about her?” I was confused, and then he raised the bat. “You named it after your ex wife.” I shook my head and laughed, Jesus, this was getting better and better. “So you have a harem,” I pointed in their general direction. “And a bat named after your ex wife.” Head nod toward the wooden plank. “Where the fuck does the missing me coming in?”

I watched him look around the room. The furniture and decor. Really?

“You went back to our house and gutted it so your new digs would look classy?” Yeah, I was done. “Who’s going to drive me back to Alexandria?” He stared at me like I’d lost MY mind. “Seriously, I’m out. This is ridiculous. The feigned jealousy of an imaginary lover of mine. The bat named after your ex. The fucking harem sitting their weird Stepford wife looking asses on MY former furniture. And MY FUCKING BED looking like a porn set when I don’t own a mattress anymore. Yep, I’m done.” I turned toward the door.

“It’s all here.” His voice was still quiet, but it stopped me. “Everything from our house. Including all your-”

“Tell me you don’t have a fucking clothing shrine sitting here, Negan. Or-” I groaned. “Do your girls get to play dress up as me? Because that’s fucking disturbing.”

“No,” his voice was low, but not the same seductive tone I remembered, this was far different. “They touch nothing in this room, especially not your things.” I shook my head, he sounded almost insulted that I’d suggested it. “I’d kill everyone in this building if they touched your-”

“You’d murder people over my underwear?” I shook my head, but didn’t face him. “Let me go, Negan. You made your life, and I have one of my own. Hell, you even have variety.”

“I only want you.” Another whisper, and it cut me to the bone. “Just you, Amara-”

“Then set me free, Negan,” my hand was on the doorknob. “Or lock me up with Daryl, because that’s the only way I’m staying here.”

#negan x wives #negan x ofc #alternative universe #implied sex #The Walking Dead

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raine-jones · 4 years

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breaking bad au but weed for raine, milo and eva; bonus points for any other characters you can cram into this good good au 🍗

((Disclaimer: I’ve never watched a single episode of Breaking Bad, and I barely know what it’s about. So enjoy me trying to rip-off something I don’t know.))

“Oh shit!” Milo said when Raine provided him with about five boxes with twenty large pieces of pot-brownie each. “That’s a lot.”

Raine smirked and put the boxes on the table of their camouflaged trailer. “You told me we had too much weed, so I used my sister to make it into sizable amounts. Everyone likes pot-brownies.”

“Did you get her high?”

“What? No. I told her I left some extra sugar in the car, and as she ran to get it… because that’s the kind of person she is, I put the weed in the mix. Then just pretended I was ‘helping’, honestly, that was perhaps the hardest part of it.”

“And then you got her high?” Milo asked with a smirk.

They laughed. “Yeah, she insisted on having a piece. She’s eating a bag of marshmallows at home, probably.”

“Okay, but this is good. We can probably sell these like twice as fast as the usual stuff.”

“What do we do with the rest of the harvest?” Raine asked, moving about the trailer to the backside where the two of them had planted a ton of little crops, huge uv lights hanging over them, and an irrigation system that was state of the art. Luckily Milo was one of the richest people of Blackrock, else putting a special trailer in the forest with even plants to supply more than just the local pot-heads would’ve been rather impossible.

“We smoke it?” Milo asked in return.

“I mean… I am not against that plan, but also… probably not a great idea to smoke it all by ourselves.”

“Who said something about all by ourselves?” A grin appeared on Milo’s face.

—

“MAR!! MARRRR!!!”

Raine laughed as Diego threw a rock at Mar’s window at 3 am. It had something cute about it, while everyone knew that if it hadn’t been for feeding Diego at least three pieces of pot-brownie they wouldn’t even be out here.

Connor had been laughing for the past half hour, constantly trying to put his arm around everyone’s shoulder.

Grey was eating their fifth bag of Cheetos and complaining about a belly-ache, only to continue eating.

Noah was sulking, but not the cute kind, but philosophically questioning himself and humanity, looking up at the sky, while also clearly talking to Milo, who wasn’t even paying attention.

Evan had peed against at least five trees, for no reason. Muttering something about ‘marking their territory’, then laughing like a maniac, only to end by smelling the next tree at its bark.

And there were a lot of trees around Mar’s house.

They had put way too much weed in those brownies.

A small part of them wondered how Eva was dealing with her new high, but they quickly drove that thought to the back of their mind as Diego started to ring the doorbell in quick succession, probably trying to recreate the SOS signal, but failing horribly as he lost count.

“Everyone is SO STONED,” Milo came over to tell them.

Raine grinned in response. “I’ve left a brownie at Hutch’s and Sam’s, and send them a text from Eva’s phone about surprise food. Also, if all goes well, Eric will be convinced to go over to my old place to grab a brownie from the porch table, because I texted him from Eva’s phone that he could have some.”

Then both of them looked up when Mar had opened the door and was looking at the big group gathered outside on her lawn. She shouted something at Diego, who flashed a smile and whispered something back, then took her jacket and closed the door behind her, before she made her way over to Raine and Milo. Okay, that wasn’t good.

She hadn’t even reached them yet when a car parked in the drive way, lights went on inside as the door opened, and even from a distance Raine recognized Lola behind the wheel, and Hutch and Sam smiling like idiots in the backseat.

Oops.

“YOU TWO!” Mar yelled.

Milo and Raine stared at each other.

“We can still tell her it was Teddy,” Raine suggested.

“Hmm. Don’t think that will work,” Milo stated as the two of them watched Mar and Lola edge closer.

“We could run?”

“Running is probably a better option.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Then they started running.

---

Raine snuck into his parent’s house trying to make not a single noise. They were completely drenched, Milo was sleeping on the porch. Their phone kept on vibrating with angry messages from Lola, pocket calls from Connor, and thumb pictures from Evan. They wanted to kill the person who had tried to teach Evan to take selfies.

They didn’t dare to return to the pack-house right now, just in case someone would sober up and figure out what had happened.

“RAINE AUGUSTUS JONES!”

They stopped dead in their track.

Eva appeared from the kitchen, her face red, her hair stood on ends everywhere. “WHAT DID YOU PUT INTO THOSE BROWNIES?!”

Raine just grinned. “Surprise?”

#herwildwhisper #askmeme #au #tw #drugs #//it turned into something different didn't it?#//don't know where this went at all

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alphacrone · 7 years

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fake dating! zimbits

It was only by a stroke of luck that Jack happened to look at his phone just as he exits the lecture hall. The group chat was blowing up – the group chat was always blowing up these days – but the lack of all-caps or exclamation marks caught his attention right away.

Eric Bittle: Guys, I wouldn’t ask this of y’all if I really didn’t need this, but I have to ask a HUGE favor of one of you.

Shitty Knight: brah are you dying

Justin Oluransi: You can have my kidney, Bits.

Adam Birkholtz: u aren’t gonna save that for me just in CASE, JUSTIN?

Larissa Duan: shit, bitty, r u ok

Eric Bittle: Um, yeah, mostly, I just…..need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend.

Jack frowned. More than once he’d stepped in as a fake boyfriend for friends and acquaintances, but they were usually drunk women who needed to escape creepy guys at parties. Bittle’s texts were starting to make him nervous.

The group chat didn’t seem to feel the same way.

Adam Birkholtz: dude this isn’t a favor

Justin Oluransi: this is a MOTHERFUCKING PRIVILEGE

Shitty Knight: AN OPPORTUNITY, REALLY

Adam Birkholtz: WHERE DO YOU NEED US

Shitty Knight: YOUR LEGION OF HANDSOME BOYFRIENDS

Larissa Duan: bits why wouldn’t you just ask chowder, these knuckleheads aren’t worthy of u

Despite himself, Jack agreed. Bittle deserved someone kind and smart and funny and well-dressed and… well, maybe Ransom fit the bill, but even so. Bittle deserved the best boyfriend.

Jack didn’t realize he’d come to a full halt outside of the building until someone knocked into him from behind. His phone arched down into the grass, and the person next to him gasped.

“Oh, fuck, Jack, sorry,” Camilla huffed, bending down quickly to grab his phone. “I just wanted to surprise you, not break your shit.”

Jack snorted. “It’s fine. Look, not a scratch.” He took the phone from her hands and held it up to show. “You check pretty hard for a tennis player.”

Camilla grinned up at him. “What can I say, you boys inspire me. What’s got you so spaced out? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you even look at your phone before.”

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Oh, I think my teammate’s in a bit of trouble, I was reading through the texts. He needs someone to pretend to be his boyfriend?”

Camilla grimaced. “Ooh, yeah, there’s usually never a good reason for that. Did he sound like he was in danger?”

Jack felt his gut sink. “Um, no, I don’t think so…”

“Then he’s probably okay,” Camilla said quickly. “I mean, like, he’s probably just trying to let someone down gently and thinks this is the best way.” She bit her lip, as if she could tell just how quickly Jack was spiralling into panic. “I’ll let you get back to your texts. Let me know if there’s any way I can help?”

Jack nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Camilla,” he murmured. “See you around.”

She gave him a soft, fond smile. “See you,” she said. “And if you need date night recommendations, that new Indian cafe on Main is really good.”

“I don’t know- I’m not-” Jack frowned at her. “How did you-?”

Camilla laughed brightly. “You’re you, Jack. Of course you’re going to help him out.”

“Oh.” Jack watched as she waved and sauntered away, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He and Camilla were friends, but they weren’t close by any means. If she could tell he was going to volunteer…Jack wondered idly what Shitty might say about the whole situation.

With a sigh, Jack plopped down on the nearest bench and opened up the group chat again, scrolling back up to where he’d left off when Camilla ran into him.

Eric Bittle: Because Jason knows Chowder! And though I love him, Christopher is not the best liar.

Justin Oluransi: JASON?

Adam Birklholtz: JASON?

Adam Birkholtz: lol jinx bro

Larissa Duan: deets, bits

Eric Bittle: This guy in my calc class asked me out and I think he’s really gross so I said no but then he asked why not and he’s probably taller than Holster and is on the JV wrestling team and I panicked and said I already had a boyfriend but instead of just dropping it he got really nosy and pushy and I agreed to bring my boyfriend to a party at his place tonight.

Shitty Knight: um

Shitty Knight: so hypothetically what is this dude’s last name

Shitty Knight: and hypothetically would anyone miss him if he died

Eric Bittle: SHITTY

Adam Birkholtz: OK I have facebook pulled up

Adam Birkhotlz: stop me when i get to him

Adam Birkholtz: Jason Mu

Adam Birkholtz: Jason la Posta

Adam Birkholtz: Jason Lowell

Adam Birkholtz: Jason R. Ball

Adam Birkholtz: Jason Paul

Adam Birkholtz: no last name i guess

Adam Birkholtz: Jason Richards

Adam Birkholtz: Jason White

Eric Bittle: holster stop

Justin Oluransi: bits that was so out of line, he shouldn’t have forced you into that situation

Larissa Duan: did u kno there r kilns in the art building large enough for a human body

Eric Bittle: LARDO

Eric Bittle: guys seriously stop

Eric Bittle: i don’t like this guy, but I think he’s fresh out of the closet, too. It doesn’t excuse his behavior, but the fella clearly just doesn’t know how to handle his newfound freedom. Cut him some slack.

Shitty Knight: ok bitty but you don’t have to go to the party

Shitty Knight: he can deal with a little rejection

Eric Bittle: What I’m hearing is that no one will go with me.

Justin Oluransi: bits….

Adam Birkholtz: dude, i’m sorry, i actually do have plans already for tonight

Justin Oluransi: bitty it’s not gonna kill him if you bail

Jack frowned at the boys’ reactions and was typing before he even knew what he was doing.

Jack Zimmermann: Bittle, would it make you feel safer if you went with one of us?

Eric Bittle: yeah

Jack Zimmermann: And you’re going to go to the party regardless of what anyone says?

Eric Bittle: it would be rude not to

Jack Zimmermann: What time does it start?

This was a terrible idea.

The party was small, some collection of bland-faced Econ and Business majors Jack had never met before. None of them talked sports, for which he was grateful; at Samwell, there was always a chance someone would recognize him. Jack was almost certain this would not come back to bite him – he wasn’t drinking, wasn’t being overly handsy with Bittle, no one was taking selfies or even pretending to have fun at this party at all. Bittle hadn’t even introduced Jack to half of their new acquaintances as anything other than his hockey captain.

But every now and then, when Jason would look across the room, Bittle would take Jack’s hand and Jack thought he was going to pass out every, single time.

This was a terrible idea.

Bittle relaxed a little somewhere after his first beer, still too tense to do much more than stand next to Jack and politely follow along with Boring Econ Dude #1’s conversation. Jack had zoned him out a while ago, and had no idea if they were talking about the stock market or Game of Thrones at this point.

Tired, bored, and really hungry, Jack placed one hand on Bittle’s hip and pressed a kiss to his hair before murmuring, “I’m gonna hit the head. Be right back.”

Bittle looked up at him with wide, stunned eyes, and it wasn’t until Jack was in the bathroom, washing his hands, that he realized what he’d done.

How could he just kiss Bittle? And it wasn’t just kissing him casually, in front of other people, but Jack had done it without thinking at all! Was he losing his mind? Was he getting sick? Had his hunger really rendered him so delirious?

Stomach churning, head spinning, Jack wandered back into the living room, feeling dazed and confused. It took him a moment to realize Bittle was no longer speaking with Boring Econ Dude #1, who had moved on to a group of well-dressed, stern-looking women. In fact, Bittle wasn’t in the living room at all.

Warning bells went off in Jack’s head, and he slipped around the edge of the room and peeked into the kitchen – the place in any home or apartment that drew Bittle like a moth to a flame.

Jack almost shouted when he first glanced into the small room. Bittle was leaned back against the counter, Jason looming over him, the two of them talking quietly and tersely. Jason really was a big guy, built like a brick wall, and Bittle shrank away from him in the most heartbreaking manner.

But then Jason grimaced and held up his hands in a placating gesture, face twisting into something guilty and ashamed. Bittle’s look of apprehension faded, and he very tentatively reached out to pat Jason’s arm.

Though not as on edge as before, Jack still decided it was time to intervene. “Everything alright?” He asked, marching up to slip an arm around Bittle’s shoulders. Despite his earlier stiffness, Bittle practically melted into Jack’s chest; through the thin fabric of his shirt, Jack could feel Bittle shaking.

“Yeah,” Jason said, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I was just apologizing to Eric. I, uh, realized that maybe I came on a bit too strong in class today.”

Jack said nothing, just nodding and pulling Bittle a little closer. Jason paused for a moment, as if waiting for Jack to agree or reprimand him or maybe even yell. When Jack did none of those things, Jason continued.

“Yeah, it was really out of line,” he said. “My best friend, Timmy, he really let me have it after I told him. And he was right – he’s always right…” Jason sighed. “So, really, again, I’m sorry, Eric, for being so…aggressive, I guess.”

Still shaking slightly, Bittle smiled. “Thank you, Jason. That means a lot, really.”

“Anyway, I have to say, you guys are really sweet together,” Jason said. Jack could feel Bittle stiffen again, but Jack let himself smile. “We’re always looking for people for our trivia team – we play every Wednesday at O’Flannery’s, you’re both welcome to join us. We always need help with history questions,” he added, smiling at Jack.

“That sounds fun,” Bittle said in a non-committal tone. Jack nodded in agreement. “We should probably be headed out,” Bittle continued, yawning a little. “Someone has an 8 a.m. lecture tomorrow.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s an interesting class.”

Bittle rolled his eyes. “Classes are only interesting if you’re awake for them, sweetheart.”

Jason laughed. “I don’t know how you do it, man. I would’ve flunked out of it by now.”

“It’s a history class,” Bittle said, as if that explained it all. At the look at Jason’s face, he added, “Jack’s very…passionate about history.”

Maybe it was the deliriousness that came from standing so close to Bittle, but Jack was almost certain he heard something else in Bittle’s voice as he said that. Insinuation, perhaps. Innuendo.

This party had been a terrible idea.

“Thank you for having us,” Bittle said. “Please, keep the rest of the mini pies, I made them just for y’all.”

“Thanks, Eric,” Jason said. “Jack, it was nice to meet you. Hope you two can join us for trivia sometime.”

“Sure thing,” Bittle said, and all but pulled Jack from the kitchen. A minute of goodbyes later, and he had them both out of the apartment and speed walking down the street.

“Bittle,” Jack said as they sped away from the party. “Bitty, wait.” He reached out to take Bittle’s hand, halting his forward momentum.

“Sorry, was I going too fast?” Bittle asked, not quite meeting Jack’s eye. “It just got so cold out, I thought I’d have more of a beer jacket tonight, sorry-”

“Are you okay?” Jack asked. “You’re still shaking.”

Bittle looked down at his hands and, for the first time, noticed the trembling of his arms. “O-oh, yeah, I’m fine, Jack. Um…”

Wordlessly, Jack shepherded Bittle over to the curb, sitting him down. After a moment’s hesitation, Jack shed his jacket and draped it around Bittle’s shoulder, just in case any of the shaking was from the weather. Bittle inhaled deeply, eyes squeezed shut, and let out a long, ragged breath.

“I never thought…” Bittle scrubbed at his face. “I never thought I’d have to be worried about other gay guys,” he said softly. “Like, girls are afraid of straight boys, that’s a given. I’m afraid of straight boys. But he was just so big and pushy, there really was a moment where I was back in seventh grade and the football team was throwing me into that stupid closet again. And I’m so relieved Jason apologized, that I was right and he just didn’t know what he was doing, but…the next one could be different.”

Jack didn’t know what to say – sure, he wasn’t Ransom-and-Holster-sized, but he was a big dude who played a very violent sport. Jack had never been afraid that he couldn’t win a fight. So he cautiously wrapped an arm around Bittle and pulled him in, letting him tuck his head under Jack’s chin.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Bittle said softly. “I don’t know why I was so insistent on coming to this stupid party – it was so boring and Jason’s not my favorite person. I guess I was afraid of what would happen if…if I didn’t. If he got mad and cornered me after class. I don’t know, it’s stupid…”

“It’s not,” Jack said. “It’s not stupid. You felt safest coming to this party with one of us, so of course I came. I’ll always have your back, Bits.”

“Thanks,” Bittle whispered. “Ugh, I’m glad that’s over with. I’ve never met a group of more boring people in my entire life, and I grew up going to church with the Whitacres – let me tell you, those folks could talk your ear off all day ‘bout drywall, I’m not even kidding. Family business, and all that. Dull as dishwater.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, they were pretty bad, even by my standards, and Shitty tells me I’m the ‘epitome of boring white dudes.’”

Bittle scoffed. “You are not boring, Mr. Zimmermann. Certainly not like- oh, shoot, what was his name? Michael? Matthew? The one who just kept quoting different Founding Fathers whenever that cute, redheaded girl walked past.”

“The one who was talking about Game of Thrones?” Jack asked.

Bittle laughed, smacking a hand against Jack’s chest. “Oh! No, no, he was talking about the Walking Dead.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, grinning. “I thought he mentioned Ned Stark at least once.”

“Tony Stark,” Bittle corrected. “No, wait, that’s Iron Man. Oh, shoot, was he talking about Game of Thrones? I was so spaced out, I think I asked him about the zombies! Are there zombies in Game of Thrones?”

“I have literally no idea,” Jack said, and they both burst into laughter.

“Oh, lord, I can never talk to any of those people again,” Bittle said with a sigh. “I can’t even remember their names. What a disaster of a day. At least I can sleep well knowing Jason probably won’t become my stalker and that you, sir, are as fine an actor as your mama.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. “That’s quite a non sequitur.”

“Not really,” Bittle said. “You did such a good job pretending tonight – I was such a mess, I don’t know how it would’ve gone if you’d been as awkward as me. If you get bored of hockey, you should take your mother’s career for a spin, see how it treats you.”

“Bittle…” Jack could feel his heart beginning to race again, the strange haze of having Bittle in his arms clouding his judgement. “I’m a terrible actor. I was cast as a tree in a school play once, and I was so bad at it that I was demoted to rock.”

Bittle’s hand flew to cover his mouth. “Oh, no,” he gasped, stifling laughter. “Oh, Jack, that’s horrible.”

“No, it’s hilarious,” Jack said seriously. “But I…I wasn��t acting tonight.”

“What?” Bittle pulled back a bit, staring up at Jack incredulously. “Is this one of those ‘what is art’ debates? ‘What really constitutes acting?’ Pretending to be my boyfriend counts as acting in this situation, Mr. Zimmermann-”

“I mean it, Bittle,” Jack said, looking down at his knees. “It was all just…natural.”

Bittle was quiet for a moment. “Natural?” He finally asked, voice hesitant.

“When I kissed your head,” Jack said, grimacing a little. “I didn’t mean to do that. It just felt…”

“Right?”

Jack looked up to see Bittle staring at him, mouth parted, eyes hopeful, so he let the deliriousness of the evening take over once more and leaned down to kiss Bittle properly.

“Oh,” Bittle said, voice breaking, as Jack pulled away. “That’s…natural.”

“Like breathing,” Jack whispered.

Bitty surged up and captured his mouth again, squishing their noses together almost comically. It was awkward and unrefined, but Jack was almost certain it was the best kiss of his life.

“Do you wanna get dinner?” He asked, pressing his forehead against Bitty’s. “Camilla recommended a place today – like, a date-type place.”

“Did she, now?” Bittle asked, smile teasing. “I’d love to, Jack.”

“Great.” Jack leaned down for another kiss, and another. “I’m glad you didn’t bring Ransom tonight.”

Bittle grinned. “You know, I’m starting to feel the same way.”

“I guess you won’t be needing that legion of handsome boyfriends anymore,” Jack said as he stood, holding out his hand to help Bittle up. Bittle took his hand and did not let go, even as he began to walk back to campus.

Bittle smiled at him, blindingly bright. “Who needs a legion when I got the best one?”

#anna writes things #zimbits #canon divergence #check please!#omgcp fanfic #otp: hit me like a ray of sun #fake dating

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