An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann
Characters: Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson, Kent "Parse" Parson's Cat
Additional Tags: Traded, Las Vegas Aces (Check Please!), oh my god they were roommates, home as a person, Getting Back Together, Hopeful Ending, One Shot
Summary:
Being uprooted and tossed across the country at a moment’s notice is just part of the NHL culture. He really should have been expecting this.
Welcome to the aces ♠️♠️ want me to pick you up when you land?
I can't stop thinking about pimms in the context of "Of all the gin joints in the world" by fall out boy ( ；∀；)
You only hold me up like this
'Cause you don't know who I really am
Sometimes I just want to know what it's like to be you
Jack's basking in the attention that Kent gives him. An attention that he never got at home while his parents were off being famous and he was alone grinding his soul into dust for hockey. He's wishing he could be anyone but himself. Hiding his struggles from Kent while wishing desperately things were different. Wondering what it's like inside Kent's head instead of his fucked up one--wondering what it was like without the pressure of being A Zimmermann with all of Canada speculating on your future.
We're making out inside crashed cars
We're sleeping through all our memories
I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive
(Now I only waste it dreaming of you)
Just some lovestruck teenagers hiding away from the world in their little bubble. Jack clinging to Kent hoping his love can fix him. He's a distraction, he's a lifeline, he's all jack can think about.
FUCK! thank you so much for bringing this to my attention.
the last sentence you wrote (from this author ask game)
I'm a sucker for context, so here's a bit more than just the last line:
Kent looked down at Jack and realized this was how Jack saw him on the ice. Jack watched him through his eyelashes, not in a flirting way, but just because he had to look up to meet him. Kent sucked in a breath when his fingers were parted by Jack’s. He squeezed when their palms met.
“Soulmates, eh?”
Kent bit his lip for a split second.
“Til’ death to us part, literally.”
Been working on the next part to this soulmate au pimms c:
Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Jack Zimmermann & Shitty Knight
Rated M
Tags: Snowed In, Injury Recovery, Anxiety, Coming Out, Temporary Mobility Aid
Chapter 1/? 2.1k words
for @parsebingo squares snowed in, injury, recovery, shower sex, bed sharing.
read on ao3
Before the Aces announce Kent being put on IR, he texts Jack, asking if he could come for a quick visit while his knee rests. Of course Jack immediately thinks of how it would be to wake up next to Kenny again, to just be close to him, but his rational side speaks first.
Doesn't the team need your support? What about training? Kit needs--
Kent fields the questions sufficiently enough for Jack to concede. He books his flight before Jack can change his mind.
Jack isn't worried. Really. Everything is going to turn out fine. None of this is going to cause him any problems. Everyone won't think anything of Kent coming to visit him. The world knows they're friends. His friends know he and Kent are friends. No one will look beyond that.
Okay, Jack's worrying a little. He's talked things over with Kent, who reassured him for the hundredth time that things are gonna be fine, but Jack's anxiety didn't get the memo. He takes in a long breath through his nose and puffs it out through his mouth in a frustrated sigh.
With everyone else out for classes or studying, Jack has the Haus to himself, awaiting Kent's arrival. He’s picking away at the blanket covering the green couch waiting for Kent to knock on the front door. With each passing minute, Jack comes up with more reasons for Kent not to be here. He'll hate the Haus, the couch, berate Jack for using the roof as a room, and so on. He realizes all these passing problems aren't real. Kent wouldn't judge him.
A rapping on the door makes Jack jump out of his thoughts.
“Ziiiiiimms!” he can hear Kent whining a little muffled out on the porch. “I’m freezing out here!”
Jack gets up and jogs to the door. When he swings it open, a gust of biting wind blows into the house followed by a shivering Kent with the help of crutches. He watches as Kent bends down to unlace his boots.
“You’re the one that wanted to come visit me in winter,” he reminds him, reaching out to hold his shoulder when he sees Kent swaying a little with his weight on his bad knee. “Here, let me,” he says in a huff.
He bends down himself to untie the boot himself. Kent looks away from Jack’s ministrations and bites at his lip. If it weren’t for the cold outside, Jack thinks the pink on his cheeks is from the embarrassment of needing help.
“Thanks,” Kent whispers when Jack sets his boot beside the other near the other shoes littering the entrance way. “We, uh, we alone?”
Jack stands up, taking his time to let a smile spread across his lips when he’s looking down at Kent’s hazel eyes. He nods, knowing what’s coming. He throws his arms out to steady them both when Kent jumps forward, grabbing Jack’s face and bringing him down into a kiss.
Immediately, Jack is pulled back into the thousands of kisses they’ve shared over the years. Kent’s hands are cold, but sure holding his face like it’s something precious. They’re chests press firmly together. Jack bends down a little to make the reach easier on Kent with his one good leg. Jack’s chapped lips catch a little against Kent’s, but neither of them pay it any mind.
Kent pulls back enough to smile wide at Jack. He’s familiar with this look--so open and warm. Jack knows he looks the same--looks like he’s brimming with love. He leans in to press a peck to the corner of his smile.
“Thank you for coming,” Jack whispers to him and slips his hands firmly around his boyfriend’s middle--holding him close as he buries his face into his neck to breathe him in.
“Hey,” Kent says, patting Jack’s back. “Don’t mention it. This is a completely selfish trip.”
They laugh for a moment as they appreciate each other’s presence. Jack can’t remember the last winter he felt this warm. Jack’s foot nudges Kent’s bag, making a point and distracting him from the flood of butterflies in his stomach.
“Want me to get this upstairs? I can’t have you eating it trying to juggle things while climbing the stairs with that,” Jack explains, nodding to his crutches.
Kent rolls his eyes. “I got up that hell of a sidewalk all on my own, big guy, with ice! I think I can handle a few steps.”
Jack puts his hands up in defeat. “Alright. Guess you don’t need me to carry you up either, then.” His boyfriend’s eyes go wide for a second and he opens his mouth to protest. “No, no. It’s all good. You can handle yourself.”
“That was before I knew you carrying me was an option. You know how much I...enjoy you lifting me.”
“Or is it why I’m usually lifting you that you enjoy?” Jack asks, walking off into the living room.
Kent hobbles after him, scoffing. "Well, nobody told me that was on the table!"
He collides into Jack with groping, hopeful hands. Jack keeps their balance, again, and wonders if he'll end up getting injured himself before Kenny heads back to Las Vegas. He still wasn't sure how long Kent will be staying.
Like he'd suggested, Jack quickly bends his knees and gets his hands under Kent's ass. He lifts him up to wrap his legs around him, giving him ample time to steady himself without hurting his knee and starts walking up the stairs, duffle bag forgotten by the front door.
“Jackie-boy! You aren’t going to buh-lieeeeve what that white supremacist asshat said in class today,” Shitty yells once he’s inside the Haus, knocking the snow off his boots.
He looks up when he doesn’t get his usual hello. A few feet down the hall is a duffle bag next to a pair of crutches. He toes off his boots without bothering to unlace them and hops in stocking feet away from the entryway in an attempt to avoid wet socks.
Shitty peeks into the living room. Jack’s school stuff is on the coffee table with the TV off. He looks back to the duffle bag and crutches. On top of the bag, an Aces hat is resting upside down. One of Shitty’s eyebrows shoots up as a large smirk pulls up the corner of his mouth.
Before Shitty heads upstairs to put away all his class shit, he picks up the duffle bag and tucks it beside the stairs, out of the way, and picks up the crutches. Since nobody’s down here, whoever needs them is probably going to need them getting down here. Though he’s pretty sure he knows who must be up there with Jack, he doesn’t let himself fully think it. Jack’ll tell him, or he’ll find out eventually. No need to ponder it. He thinks about knocking on Jack’s closed door, but instead quietly leans the crutches beside it and tiptoes down to his door.
Jack wants to thank his therapist for suggesting he focus his schedule around morning classes. He knows it was meant to help him get up and out of the house first thing so he won't have time to dwell and build up his anxiety, still being partially asleep, but if one of the perks is the entire afternoon in bed with his boyfriend maybe he should send her some flowers...
"You sure you don't wanna do online school and come live with me?" Kent asks through his heavy breathing and blissed-out expression, laying naked and half on top of Jack. "I could get used to this."
Jack rolls his eyes and catches his own breath for a second. "You sure you don't want to get traded to the Falconers or something?" Jack asks with a smile, thinking back to all the times they've joked about this. "I could definitely get used to you being here."
Kent smacks what he can reach of Jack's ass and slides off of him onto the other side of the bed. He curses having forgotten to watch out for his leg and readjusts to stretch it out.
"Did you lie to me about the PT guy saying this was okay?"
"No! I would never lie about sex, Zimms."
"I meant coming here in the first place...Wait, did you really ask about sex?"
Kent laughs and nods. "Hell yeah, I did! Gotta ask the important questions: sex, showering, and driving. All of which are completely good-to-go."
Jack pulls Kent to him, letting him rest his head against his chest and places a quick kiss to the top of his messy, blond hair. "Does that mean you're ready to go again?"
Kent kisses Jack’s chest with a smile and licks his nipple in a fast, completely unsexy way. Jack finches away with an unexpected giggle, shielding his other nipple from Kent with his hand. From the glimmer in Kent’s eyes, he knows he’s a goner. Jack has never won a tickle fight in his life.
As the guys trickle on back home from a day of boring classes while they were wishing they were out playing in the snow or even just at home sleeping, the sky gets darker and the snow’s falling faster. When Holster stumbles in past the wind, the snow building in front of the porch is halfway up his shins.
Jack and Kent are warm up in bed with Jack’s laptop perched on his knees playing a cat video Kent insisted they had to watch before Jack could play another YouTube video in some series called Facts You Wish You Didn’t Know About Our Past Leaders.
Kent tells him again with deadly sincerity, “you can only go so far down to YouTube rabbithole before you come up for air and a good ole cat video and restart the cycle or you’ll end up watching some of the weirdest ever made by man at three am questioning reality.”
Jack’s giggles shake his stomach and computer so much the screen tips back so neither of them can see the video anymore, only causing his laughing to increase.
“You goober,” Kent chuckles and moves the laptop to the nightstand after pausing the video. “I think that’s enough of YouTube before we go insane.”
“Goober? Really?”
Kent tries to push Jack off the bed, but Jack grabs onto his arm. They shuffle back and forth for leverage until Kent tips backwards, head towards the floor, with Jack sliding over top of him. They’ve half laughing, half screaming when someone knocks on the door.
“You dyin’ in there?” Shitty yells through the bathroom door.
Jack tries to right himself, but Kenny slides out from under him to the side, causing Jack to slip onto the floor.
“Ow! Told you I’d end up injured! Nah, Shitty. Nobody’s dying!” Jack yells back to him.
He’s about to tell him to come in and say hi to Kent when he remembers their clothes are still next to his door instead of covering them up. He glances up to where Kent is sitting stark naked without a single iota of modesty, legs fully splayed, and stifling his laughter behind his hand.
Along his neck are a few red marks popping against his lightly tanned skin. A few streak trail down Kent’s chest where Jack’s fingernails traversed his body down to his hips earlier to get better leverage. In the back of his mind, he’s glad Kent won’t be stripping down in a locker room full of chirps and interns taking photos for social media.
“Alrighty, brah. What do you want for noms? Dining hall closed early ‘cause of the storm. I’m thinking pizza,” Shitty yells to him.
Kent looks at him expectantly. When Jack doesn’t answer straight away, he nods at him and motions to the door. Jack relents and tells Shitty they’ll be down soon.
“I thought you might want to avoid everybody for as long as you could…,” he mumbles while picking up his pants.
“Why would I do that? Hey, look at me…” Kent says, voice laced with concern. He waits until Jack turns back to him before he goes on, “I love you and am part of your life. I’m not going anywhere or trying to hide from your friends. I know you have good taste, so I’m sure we’ll get along.”
Jack looks away with a nod. The voice of his anxiety isn’t reality. Sometimes, it’s just so hard to separate the two. The nagging feeling that Kent’s just saying things to make him feel better sits in the back of his mind, but he choose to trust what he’s saying. Kent came all this way. He wouldn’t have done that just to hook up.
concept: jack slowly comes to realize that things move on without him. each time going back to samwell, to faber, to the haus just feels a little changed and a little more distant. the time comes when it doesn't feel like his old stomping grounds anymore. he doesn’t recognize any of the faces over at the lax house. he old knows a handful of guys on the hockey team aside from the ones living in the haus. samwell is still bustling with students, living their lives and taking classes and having all those experiences he reminiscent about. samwell moved on from him. when he was in school, the place, the team all felt like it revolved around him--being captain and making great plays...he thought he’d leave a mark. he realizes that it’s not unlike the nhl. guys work their way up, have there time and leave. a lot do well, but very few are remembered far down the line.
Scraps hands the phone off to Parser and waits. He doesn’t bother looking at the image he’s seen twenty times by now scrolling through his feed; he focuses on his captain, waiting to see how he’ll react. No matter is he screams, throws his phone, curses so badly they’re thrown out of the bar, or just shuts down, he’s ready.
Since he first took Kent under his wing when he was a rookie, Scraps has had his back. Through the drinking, the fights, and the therapy, he’s been like a brother to him and he wasn’t going to let anything change that. It didn’t matter if he had to punch Carly in the fucking mouth right now, he’d support Parser however he needed.
He watches Kent’s eyes go cold and hard, turning to the color of stone as he takes in the image: Jack Zimmermann kissing a blond guy at center ice. He sees his knuckles tense before they go slack and hand Scraps his phone back before he drops it. The laughing from Carly’s comment is just dying down when Parse gets up, turns off his phone, and heads for the door. Scraps isn’t far behind, just taking a second to take out his wallet before thinking of something better.
“Hey,” he calls over the bartender, “drinks are on that homophobe,” he says as quietly as he can with a nod to Carly. The bartender raises her eyebrow and nods with a fierce smile.
He follows Parser out with a smirk and head on straight, ready to take on whatever the kid needs.
Prompt: One of the guys: *sees Parse is upset and -unhelpfully- tries to cheer him up* “pfft Zimmerman probs just did it bc he figured if he couldn’t go first in the draft he could be the first gay dude to hoist the cup”
Parse: *inhales, looks his team dead in the eyes* “he isn’t.” @sarahakele
(read on ao3)
Swoops claps a hand on Kent’s back as they walk down the sidewalk towards their complex. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see Kent gets worked up over everything related to Jack fuckin’ Zimmermann on top of how hard he always takes it when he and his boys are the ones lifting the Cup every year.
“Zimmermann probably just wanted to one-up you, dude,” Swoops says. Kent doesn’t react, like he’s trying to ignore Swoops presence all together. “He couldn’t go first in the draft, so he had to be first at something. If it’s first gay dude to hoist the cup, whatever. He ain’t got nothing on you, Parser.”
Kent stops in his tracks, causing Swoops to stumble a little before catching his balance on a lamp post. Swoops looks at him, questionings whatever the hell could be going through his head. His first thought is that all those fruity drinks have gone straight to Parser’s stomach and he need to get outta the splash zone.
“He isn’t.” Kent states, matter of fact, looking Swoops dead in the eyes like they both were three sheets to the wind.
“Huh?”
“Jack isn’t the first gay guy to lift the cup.” Kent looks at him for a second before continuing on his walk home.
Swoops turns fast to watch him walk away, wondering what the hell he meant until it clicked. “He's not gay?”
Kent’s composure cracks with a smirk and quick laugh. “He’s bi, last I knew, but that wasn’t what I meant. I was.”
“Well, he wasn’t the first bi guy either then.” It’s Parser’s turn to look confused and slightly drunk at Swoops. He just smirks right back at him and waits, walking in step with him now.
“You’re--”
Swoops lightly hip checks him and smiles wide. He slings an arm around Kent’s shoulder and let’s the moment settle into them. Kent quickly snakes an arm around Swoops’ middle and gives him a little squeeze, like a sideways hug.
“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers, like he can’t believe this is happening.
“Same to you, bud. You’re my bro. You deserve to know this shit. I mean, I told Kitt months ago.”
Kent scoffs like he’s affronted and takes his arm back. “You trust her more than me!”
I have a prompt,,,,,,if you do patater can u do a skit but where Kent talks to him and communicates what happened with fucking carl and maybe at first he's a bit nervous to dampen taters NHL cup parade but then because he's working on being emotionally healthier they talk? And maybe it doesn't fix it but it makes it better
Kent gets up fast, pushing past Carl, and heads into the restroom. He pulls out his phone and just stares at it. He wants to call Alexei, tell him what happened and...seek out support, which he still isn’t used to doing. But his boyfriend just won his first Stanley Cup. He should be congratulating him, not complaining about his own problems. He nearly drops his phone when it buzzes in his hand: a text.
Missing you. How is night? Don’t drink to much )))) - tater
He smiles at it. It’s nice to know that even in all the celebrations of his big night, his boyfriend is still thinking about him. Kent swallows hard and calls him. The background noise is near deafening until, he assumes, Tater makes his way out of the crowd to somewhere more quiet.
“Kenny! Was just thinking of you,” he greets hims. Kent can hear his big grin in his voice.
“Babe, congrats. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” he replies.
“What’s wrong? You sounding sad.”
Kent lets out a huge sigh. “Don’t worry about it. Tonight’s your night. Go party. Just called to say I love you.”
He knows Alexei isn’t going to let this go, but he tried. Kent knows they should talk about this, be open. How many times has Alexei reminded him that they are partners in life, not just passing acquaintances?
Kent explains about Jack and Carl and the Aces being assholes, as per usual (aside from Scraps and Swoops). Apparently, he’d been so caught up with Snowy that Tater hadn’t even seen the kiss. Come to think of it, he hasn’t seen Bitty at all since Jack had his lap with the Cup…
“Come here. I’m buying ticket. Come here and we ignore rest of world, okay?”
In the back of his mind, Kent wants to say no, say that he’ll just be a downer and a burden. Instead, he pushes those thoughts away and agrees. He wants his boyfriend right now. Not just because he’s upset and alone, but because he always wants him. He thinks about “for better or for worse,” but lets that train of thought pass by too. Now isn’t the time...maybe next Cup season though.
