pls let whiskey and bitty be gay friends in year 4 thanks
TW: vomiting, hangover, canon typical alcohol abuse, coming out, being closeted in professional sports, implied (but not real) dubious consent of inebriated person
When Whiskey awoke, he immediately turned over and hurled into the waiting trashcan next to the bed. It wasn’t until he’d relieved himself of the meager contents of his stomach that he realized this was not, in fact, his bed at all.
The room was clean and tidy, decorated to the nines with pop star tour posters and twinkle lights. If that hadn’t been an immediate giveaway, there was also a University of Georgia pennant mounted high on the wall above the desk. Whiskey rubbed at the building pain in his head and desperately tried to remember the previous night. Surely he hadn’t...no, Bittle had a boyfriend, that much was obvious, so even if Conner had tried, in his blacked out state...
The bedroom door creaked open slowly and Bitty stuck his head inside, glancing around. He was already showered and dressed for the day, clearly not at all hungover. When he noticed Whiskey struggling to sit up, he smiled and walked fully into the room, carrying a glass of water and a plate of toast and eggs.
“Here, thought you could use something after how sick you were last night,” Bitty said softly, placing the food and drink down on the bedside table. “How’re you feeling?”
Whiskey took the water gratefully and sipped at it, careful not to drink too fast. “Like crap.” He paused, looking towards the open door, then asked, “We didn’t-? Last night...?”
It took Bitty a minute to grasp his meaning, but when he did he shook his head vehemently. “Oh, Conner, no, you were in a terrible state last night and I don’t care what people might say about me, I would never-”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Whiskey murmured, cutting Bitty off. “I just thought...if you’d been drunk, too, maybe I would’ve...made a move or something...”
Recognition and a little bit of shock flitted across Bitty’s face. “No, I think you were too busy falling down the stairs to seduce anyone last night.” Well, that explained the soreness of every muscle in Whiskey’s body. “But, um. You were a lot nicer to me last night...”
Whiskey looked down at his lap; he was too sick to have this conversation. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he finally said, stomach churning unpleasantly. “The coaches have been talking about scouts coming to watch me, and I can’t have, like, any rumors about me going around, even here-”
“Conner, Conner-” Bitty interrupted him, eyes wide with concern. “I would never, you have to know that. I’m your captain,” he said, smile a little wry. “And I know the risks. Trust me, I’ve spent enough time around professional athletes to know the risks.”
Whiskey nodded mutely, taking another sip of water. Later he would blame the hangover for this, but he asked, “Are you dating one of Jack’s teammates?”
Bitty laughed, loud enough to aggravate Whiskey’s headache. “Oh, Lord, no. If I was, you know I couldn’t tell you all willy-nilly,” he added, a bit more serious. “But no. What an idea...”
“You sure?” Whiskey prodded, laughing a little himself. “I’ve seen that video of Mashkov carrying you around the Haus. He really likes your jam, huh?”
“You shut your mouth,” Bitty laughed, shoving at Whiskey’s shoulder. “Tater’s a friend.”
“A very rich, very handsy friend,” Whiskey mused innocently.
Bitty shook his head and grabbed his book bag off the desk chair. “I’m going to the library. Sleep off your hangover, make sure to hydrate, and tell the Frogs that if they eat all the cookies in the kitchen then they have to buy me dinner. For the next week.”
“Don’t you have a thesis to write?” Whiskey asked, watching with amusement as Bitty’s face darkened.
“I hope your hangover lasts all day,” he said petulantly, then waved goodbye and headed out the door. Whiskey sighed and leaned back against the pillow, then started when he felt something press up against his side.
When he pulled back the covers, Whiskey was surprised to see a plush bunny, clearly old and well-loved, half-hidden by the mess of sheets and blankets that covered Bittle’s bed. He smiled tiredly and pulled the bunny close, feeling warm and content in the knowledge that maybe, against all odds, he and Bittle were becoming friends.
