Some personal, mostly fandoms. Started with Sherlock, then s04 happened. Now mostly OMG Check Please and a bit of Yuri!! on Ice. Proud member of the Johnlock Fanfiction Network
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
CW: COVID-19 pandemic
I was conflicted about writing this fic; most of what I write seems to be in an OMGCP world where COVID never happened. But as we approach the sixth anniversary of the week the world shut down, I think it's important to remember ... especially as more and more people seem to want to pretend, as in my fics, that it never happened.
Never mind that COVID-19 is still with us.
So this fic remembers what happened (for many people, who were mostly suffering from massive disruption but not sick and not grieving -- and those stories also need to be remembered). It includes the interventions that worked and some that didn't, a lot of the wishful thinking that affected a lot of people then, and a period that now sometimes feels like a hallucination.
Project Title: make my bed (and sleep in it)
Fandom: Check, Please!
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75578001
Summary: AU where the graduation kiss didn't happen, but Bitty still goes to visit Jack before the semester starts. Only one problem: Jack forgot to set up his guest room.
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Jack Zimmermann
Pairings: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
When I Started: god i don't even know. february? march?
How I Lost My Shit: it was originally based on a song, scrapped that idea, lost interest for months
How I Finished My Shit: i wanted to do the wip bb so i picked it back up again! only took ten months lol
This is filling an anonymous prompt for Bitty dressing up as Jack Skellington, and Jack’s reaction.
Bitty pulled the garment bag out of his closet and considered.
He’d brought this with him specifically for Halloween. He’d done the puck bunny thing last year – speaking of terrible life choices. He wasn’t sure who took the pictures that ended up on the Swallow’s website, but he’d had people making rabbit ears at him for weeks.
The year before that he’d been Mrs. Lovett because pies, but this year, he wanted something not so … feminine, maybe, not that anyone would consider Mrs. Lovett a sex symbol or anything.
But this year, he was the captain of this team, and the Halloween kegster came just after the season started, and he needed something that would demonstrate that he was in charge. Or at least not make him seem cute.
On a visit home before returning for the school year (and wasn’t that a change: his parents’ home was now a place he visited), he’d spent an afternoon helping Mama organize the attic, moving some of his old things out of his parents’ way and making room for Mama’s new sewing machine in the guest room.
That was what gave him the idea, really. The old things in the attic, both the collection of Halloween Town figurines and the rack with his old figure skating costumes.
There was the tiny statue of Jack Skellington, the leader of Halloween Town. And there was the black coat he’d bought for his last costume – he’d planned to skate to Phantom – but, well, that skate never happened.
The coat had been a bit big then, and it was more than a bit snug now, but that would work for what he wanted. He still had black tights that fit, and a dance belt. He could do this: Not a burly monster or a bedraggled zombie, but the spritely skeleton who was clearly in charge of the holiday.
With the bag stashed in the closet, Bitty had gone along with it when the frogs started talking about a Halloween kegster. The new baby tadpoles (what do you call a frog before it’s a tadpole?) had been around for two months, and they were ready to be exposed to the drunken debauchery of a real Haus party. As long as Bitty could make sure they ate enough and drank enough water.
Ollie and Wicks were eager to prove their version of tub juice was just as revoltingly strong as Ransom and Holster’s, and the rest of the boys were itching for some fun.
But when Dex and Nursey came up with the idea of a Haunted Haus kegster, Bitty had wanted to talk them out of it. First, because he wasn’t sure tub juice and jump scares were entirely compatible; second, because he didn’t want people losing it in his kitchen, and there was no way on God’s green earth that any of the boys would allow guests upstairs during a kegster, and a haunted Haus meant people would have to go somewhere; and third, because he wanted to be Jack Skellington, and that just wasn’t scary enough for a haunted house. Or maybe that was first.
When I asked for prompts about a month ago, @goddess47 asked for Bob’s perspective on the kiss. With the preview released yesterday and the impending update, it was now or never.
“The Falconers were able to put it all together this year because …”
Bob trailed off as the reporter’s attention had clearly wandered, and was now focused somewhere over Bob’s left shoulder.
As was the camera that had been on Bob’s face.
Bob turned to see what was remarkable enough for them to interrupt the interview, and was torn between being glad the camera was no longer on him and wishing the camera operator hadn’t noticed what was going on behind him.
Because Jack was kissing Eric, and the two of them looked like they had forgotten there was anyone else on the ice – anyone else in the arena – at all.
Merde. The camera was back on him.
“What have you got to say about that?” the reporter asked.
“About what?” Bob asked. He wasn’t sure if he was playing for time, or trying to push the reporter into saying something he could react to, positively or negatively.
“About Jack kissing a man – he’s a former teammate from Samwell, isn’t he? – at center ice after winning the Stanley Cup,” the reporter said. “If this is what it looks like, your son is the first out, non-straight NHL player.”
Well. Fair enough, Bob supposed. No one could look at that kiss and not see all the affection – all the love – and intimacy it implied.
“I suppose so,” Bob said. “I really haven’t got anything to say about it at all, except that I love and support my son, and I think that he should be able to show affection to whoever he loves. And that when it comes to romantic partners, Alicia and I can’t fault his taste.”
Okay, maybe he’d said a bit too much, Bob thought. Maybe they didn’t even know exactly who Eric was. Yet.
“I believe the man he was kissing –” Bob tried to sneak a peek over his shoulder; it looked like Jack and Eric had been engulfed by the rest of the Samwell crew and were no longer attached at the lip – “was Eric Bittle, who played on Jack’s line during Jack’s last year at Samwell,” the reporter went on. So much for her not knowing. “He is in line to be the first out LGBT captain of a NCAA Division I hockey team next season.”
And that was a bit far, because Eric might be out to his teammates, but Bob knew for a fact that he wasn’t out to his parents. Or he hadn’t been, until about two minutes ago.
“Are you sure about that?” Bob asked.
“That he’s going to be Samwell’s captain? Yes, it’s on the Samwell hockey website that Eric Bittle was unanimously elected captain for the 2016-2017 season,” the reporter said.
“That he is a member of the LGBT community, and out,” Bob said. “Is that something he’s told you? Or said publicly, on the record, to any media outlet?”
“I don’t know about that,” the reporter said. “But he kissed your son at center ice just after the cup was awarded, in front of a dozen or so TV cameras.”
Well, there was that.
Bob gave a smile that he hoped was charming.
“All I can say about Eric Bittle is that he’s an impressive young man and a heck of a hockey player,” he said.
Then he turned away, hoping to make his way to Jack and Eric without being trailed by the camera.
The Wellies were still surrounding Jack and Eric when Bob reached them, at the same time Alicia was approaching from the other side. She must have seen what happened. Bob was hoping they were on the same page: Pretend nothing unusual had happened, get Jack and Eric off the ice and out of public view, and figure out how to play this going forward.
“Me and Bitty kissed,” Jack said, a half-smile quirking his lips. “It might be on TV actually.”
Then he swooped down and kissed Eric again, just in case anyone missed the point.
“Who cares?” Jack said, half euphoric, half defiant.
“Oh – okay,” Alicia said, her eyes wide.
She glanced to the side at Bob, and after 27 years of marriage, he knew an appeal for help when he saw one.
“We all care,” Bob said quietly. “We care about you and Eric, and we’re thrilled that you love each other, and we’re behind you 100 percent in your decision to share that with the world. As soon as you’re ready, we can take this off the ice to figure out the next steps, ouais?”
“Non,” Jack said. “My next step is to go get showered in champagne before I change, then clean up and celebrate with the team, then with our friends at my condo. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll figure out the rest. Tonight – tonight is for us. The Falcs, and me and Bitty. RIght, Bits?”
Bitty looked at Jack like he hung the moon and nodded.
“I know it’s gonna be an awful mess,” he said. “Believe me, Bob, I do. But let us have tonight?”
“Fine,” Bob said. “Just remember, we’re here for you. Both of you. No matter what.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
This is a double prompt fill:
From kittishark: Jack and Bitty at their wedding and parson stands up and fucking objects but then its a really cool happy wedding- (Tater is Jacks best man, no objections) and Bittle is 100% the bride character. or something zimbits wedding
An anonymous prompt, for either Patater or Tango and Whiskey: i really wanna see a like, one gets drunk at a bar and the other saves. u can make fluff/smut/inbetween <3 Sorry there's not any smut, but Tater would not take advantage of Kent being under the influence.
Filling a prompt from from @hufflepunkwannabe: And perhaps Lardo and bitty playing with makeup?
“Lardo?”
Bitty tapped at her door, which was not quite closed, and pushed it further open.
“Do you know when — “
He stopped abruptly.
Lardo was sitting at the desk, an array of makeup tubes and palettes abd brushes laid out on the surface. It was undoubtedly Lardo sitting there facing the mirror, but the reflection looking back at Bitty was somehow not the same. With the slicked back hair, sharper jaw, more prominent brows, it looked like Lardo’s twin brother. Even though Bitty knew Lardo didn’t have a brother, twin or otherwise.
“What was that?” Lardo turned and asked, sounding just the same.
Bitty gathered himself enough to remember why he was looking for Lardo.
“Um, do you know when the bus is leaving for Colgate on Saturday?” he asked. Because Jack had a home game Friday night, and there was a chance Bitty could get to Providence for the game and spend the night, if he could get back in time to be on the bus for the weekend roadie.
“On the bus at 10:15, pulling out at 10:30,” Lardo said. “And we get back from Dartmouth late Sunday night.”
“Yeah, I knew that part,” Bitty said.
“Why?” Lardo asked. “You have plans for Saturday morning?”
“Study group,” Bitty fibbed. Really, if he were really going to study groups all the times he said he was, he should be making the dean’s list this semester. Which he most definitely was not.
“You’re probably not going to make that one,” Lardo said, turning back to the mirror. “No one wants to get up that early on Saturday.”
Except Jack.
“Other athletes,” Bitty said. “We’ll meet early, and I’ll be back in time.”
Which was perfect. He would have an excuse not to be home when the rest of the house got up.
Bitty watched Lardo squint into the mirror, then take a dark pencil to her brows, making them look even heavier.
“Uh, Lardo?” Bitty asked. “What are you doing?”
“Practicing my makeup,” she said. “I’m doing, like, a drag king look for a photo project someone in my class is doing. What do you think?”
“You look like a guy,” Bitty said. “I mean, like yourself, but also like a guy. How do you do that?”
“The magic of contouring,” Lardo said. “It’s really just using different shades of makeup to change the way people perceive your features. Kinda the same way you use light and shadow to make a two-dimensional painting have depth. A lot of women who wear makeup do it all the time, just not to look like a boy.”
“Huh,” Bitty said. “That’s pretty cool.”
He watched a little longer.
“Do you think you could teach me?”
“Teach you what?” Lardo said. “To use makeup to look more masculine? Because I gotta say, especially with the way that haircut emphasizes your facial structure, you do look like a guy.”
“Really?” Bitty said. “Even though —”
He waved his hand in front of his face, emphasizing the features he always thought of as too delicate. They were nothing like Jack’s, or even Shitty’s.
“I mean,” Lardo said, “You do have big eyes. But your facial bones are more prominent than most women’s. But maybe I could make you up to look like a girl? Or a more manly man, I guess. Either way.”
An idea hatched in Bitty’s brain.
“Could we try both?” he said.
“Why not?” Lardo said. “Sit down.”
First, she recreated her masculine look on Bitty, using makeup a shade or two darker than his skin tone to contour under his jaw, around his forehead, and under his cheekbones. She added lighter makeup to his cheekbones and brow, then found a light brown pencil in her kit to thicken his blond eyebrows.
After a lot of blending and a layer of setting powder, Lardo handed him the mirror.
“Well?” she said.
“Wow,” Bitty said. “I look like … I don’t even know. A real boy, or man, I guess.”
“Bits,” Lardo said. “You are a real man, makeup or not. But now I get to make you look like a girl.”
“Wait,” Bitty said. “Let me take a picture first.”
Bitty raised his phone to snap a selfie, first alone, and then another with Lardo.
“Okay,” Bitty said. “Do your worst.”
Lardo stepped back.
“We don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said. “I just kind of wanted to practice drag makeup too. And I get to use colors.”
“No, it’s fine,” Bitty said. And it was. Shitty always said boys could wear makeup, anyway. And it might be fun to see what he would look like as a girl.
“Okay then,” Lardo said, opening the door to the bathroom she shared with Chowder. “Wash your face.”
Then Lardo got to work, using the darker contour makeup more sparingly but adding more highlighter. She said she wouldn’t pluck Bitty’s eyebrows, but she used a small comb to brush them upwards. Contouring made his nose look thinner and his jaw more rounded, she explained, and eyeliner and mascara made his already big eyes look even larger.
“Now comes the fun part,” she said, choosing a palette of eyeshadows in lighter colors, the better to make his browline look higher. Blush and a shiny lip gloss completed the look before she handed Bitty the mirror.
Whereas the masculine makeup had made Bitty look somehow like himself, only moreso, this makeup made him look like a different person entirely. Someone he could dress up as, maybe, but definitely not him.
Still, he thought he was kind of cute. He liked what the mascara and eyeliner did for his eyes. Maybe he could just do that sometimes?
Bitty wondered what Jack would think if he saw him this way. Jack, after all, was attracted to women. Would he prefer Bitty as a woman? Was that a can of worms Bitty wanted to open?
“You want a picture before you wash it off?” Lardo said.
“Sure,” Bitty said. “Why not?”
Because if Jack would prefer Bitty with feminine makeup, maybe that was something he could do sometimes? People dressed up for the partners all the time, didn’t they?
Bitty and Lardo repeated the selfies — one of Bitty on his own and one with Lardo — before Bitty went to clean his face again.
When he came out of the bathroom, he realized Lardo was still wearing masculine makeup.
“So, you like that?” he said. “Looking like a guy?”
Lardo shrugged.
“A little, yeah,” she said. “Feels a little weird. But maybe sometimes? You didn’t like looking like a girl, though, did you?”
Bitty shook his head.
“Maybe because too many assholes have tried to insult me by calling me a girl,” he said. “Even though being a girl is not a bad thing. To be clear.”
“I gotchu,” Lardo said. “No worries.”
When he got back to his room, Bitty sent both selfies to Jack.
Lardo and me were playing around with makeup. What do you think?
It took a few minutes for Jack to answer. He could have been driving; practice had ended not long before.
You always look great, Jack finally texted back. Whatever you want is good. The more feminine one, though — it would take some getting used to for me, I guess. Although the eye makeup is cool.
Bitty exhaled, letting out tension he hadn’t been aware of.
My thoughts exactly, he said. I can make it Friday night as long as I get back here to be on the bus at 10:15 Saturday.
Great, Jack replied. I can drop you off by the library at 9:30 or so.
Sorry this has taken so long. I haven't been in much of a mood for fluff. But now I think I need some ...
CW: Lots of innuendo and bad jokes
Prompt from @hufflepunkwannabe: Ooo, can we see Jack and bitty just being silly together?
The pies were done and the turkey was roasting. The dressing and sweet potatoes were in the second oven now that the pies were out; once they and the turkey came out, he could slide in the green bean casserole — Shitty insisted — and the roasted Brussels sprouts. Last of all would come the dinner rolls, still in their first rise. They could bake while Bitty made the gravy.
Bitty frowned and tapped his pen against his teeth while he studied his notebook. It should work. Everything should be ready to serve close enough to the same time — good thing the turkey had to rest for a while before being carved. He’d even have time to sneak in a shower. Probably.
“Bits?”
Jack came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Bitty’s waist.
“You alright?” Jack asked. “You need help?”
“No, I’ve got it in here,” Bitty said. “How’s the tidying going?”
“Fine,” Jack said.
And of course it was, because Jack always kept the place pretty neat. He’d heard Jack run the vacuum a few minutes before, probably unnecessarily because the cleaner did that two days ago.
“And the table?” Bitty asked. “Is that set yet?”
“No,” Jack said. “But it’s just Shitty and Lardo, and a few of the guys who couldn’t get home.”
Bitty almost let a high-pitched giggle escape him. “A few of the guys” were four professional hockey players. Players on Jack’s team. Players who probably never even thought of playing with someone who wasn’t straight until Jack had come out. Bitty needed these guys to like him.
“You know Tater loves you,” Jack said.
Which was true. Tater, who might be the biggest human being Bitty had ever laid his own eyes on, had been delighted with Bitty from the first time they met. His approval went a long way with the other Russian players, one of whom – a rookie named Ivanov – was coming today. The others, Fitz and Poots, were from western Canada, which Bitty had come to learn had some things in common with being from the south in the U.S., or maybe the Midwest. Still, they’d always been perfectly friendly, and when Jack said Bitty would make Thanksgiving dinner for those who had no other place to go, they accepted.
It would be fine. Probably.
“I just feel like I’m forgetting something,” Bitty said. “Something important.”
“Kissing your boyfriend?” Jack asked, leaning down to kiss the side of Bitty’s neck.
Bitty squirmed and swatted at Jack’s arms.
“Stop it,” he giggled, a real giggle this time. “I need to be on the ball here.”
Jack honest-to-pete snorted, and Bitty giggled and blushed. “Not that kind of balls!”
Then he remembered.
“Whipped cream!” he yelped. “I have to make the whipped cream.”
Jack laughed and said, “I give up.”
Bitty put the heavy cream, sugar and vanilla in the bowl of the stand mixer and attached the whisk.
“Then I can take a shower,” he said before turning it on. “You’re in charge of the bar, and you’ll do a cheese and cracker platter and a relish tray so there’re nibbles, right?”
“Right,” Jack said, taking a stack of plates from the cabinet. “I’ll start on the table.”
It was only a few minutes later that Bitty pulled the whisk out and watched the peaks form and then droop. He was using a spatula to transfer the whipped cream into a ceramic bowl when Jack came back into the kitchen.
“Done already?” Jack said.
“It doesn’t take long,” Bitty said, drawing a finger along the edge of the spatula to cover it in whipped cream and holding it out to Jack. “Here, taste.”
Jack took Bitty’s hand and pulled Bitty’s finger into his mouth, cleaning it — Bitty had to clear his throat as Jack did it — very thoroughly.
When Jack released his finger, he grinned and said, “It doesn’t take long? So … you could make it another time?”
Bitty pulled himself together enough to bat his eyes and smile flirtatiously.
“Any time you want, sweet pea,” he said. “I’m gonna take that shower now.”
He had no reason to tell Jack that he finished bathing so quickly because the shower was ice cold.