[there's really nothing to match chatficcing with someone who has the same reads on characters on you, the same sort of id stories, etc. have an outtake]
lomittz: hmm so jack
lomittz: does he like
lomittz: Realise form learned social behaviours, tv dramas parse made him watch, etc that he should be looking parse in the eye
lomittz: like does he do the classic hey look at me
multsicorn: lmao no
multsicorn: there is no eye contact happening in MY pairing
This fic was inspired by some extended discussions at fail-fandomanon, of a scenario where Jack's cheating on Bitty with Kent and they get caught by the SMH. I am not the amazing Bitty/Tater author anon! I just got this one particular scene in my head and it wouldn't let go:
If you want the original context of this fic. But it should work without it, too, hopefully. // ~1k, g, also here on ao3.
Kent puts himself on social media lockdown the second Jack says he loves him. He can't believe it - after all this time - Jack! - even if they'd, uh, well. Exactly what he's not gonna tell the media or anyone, but it's been happening and with shocking frequency for the past couple of months.
Not that he's tweeting anything anyway with Jack's tongue in his mouth in an alley, not that he's instagramming or fucking facebooking when instead he can have one hand on Jack's glorious ass and one hand in his tragic boyband hair, and not on borrowed time now or hoping that Jack's thinking of him too and not of the worry or guilt, but for real, for good. Fuck the whole entire internet, who needs it when Jack is right here -
Jack pushes himself back and wipes Kent's spit off his lips and says, "So," with a small sheepish smile on his face. And Kent knows there's no way to contain all the things he feels except to go completely silent for a while.
Let the world miss him; all the world he needs is right here.
~
Jack, apparently, didn't get the unspoken-but-Kent-would've-thought-damn-obvious memo that they should stop using all social media, immediately. He's cheating on his boyfriend - well, he was cheating on his boyfriend till last afternoon. He's Kent's boyfriend now, Kent's heart swells with the pride of it. But they don't want anyone else to know that, not that the secret'll probably last much longer.
There Jack is, anyway, snapping away and adjusting filters, and Kent has no idea what all else. But he sure as hell sees it when a shot of the view from Jack's winder in front of him pops up on Jack's instagram.
Kent's off posting social media, not off keeping tabs. He's not stupid. He's had an empty sock account for years for following his - their fans.
The picture Jack posted is beautiful. It really is: somehow, he disappeared the buildings outside and the window mesh inside, capturing only a photo of the early morning sky. It's dramatic, this morning, too - it still is, outside the window - but through the magic of whatever Jack's done, the blue sky feels infinite, the streaks of pink clouds and golden light feel shot through with possibility. Jack's captioned the photo "A New Day."
Kent's breath catches in his throat.
~
Kent goes to rescue Kit from Schenectady the day after that. She's his girl! He wasn't planning to overturn her life like this, but he can't be sorry, when all's said and done and accounted for.
"Sorry, Kit," he tells her, lugging the carrier up the steps to Zimms' apartment building. He's pretty sure they just got papped, but - not avoidable. "Your daddy's got a brand new place to live, your daddy's got a brand new life - "
Zimms, the idiot, doesn't know whether the terms of his lease allow cats in the apartment or not. Kent shrugs this worry off; they both have tons of money to pay any fines that might accrue.
He takes a picture of Kit again that evening, and posts it. He can't help breaking his planned hiatus: she's just too beautiful! Her gray and white fur pops against the blue walls of Jack's apartment, and Kit, standing up on her hind paws to scratch the corrugated cardboard of empty folded boxes leaning against said wall, clearly agrees with him.
Kit has her own twitter, and insta: Kent posting there isn't not staying off his, anyway.
All the pictures he takes of her sleeping on Jack, though, those are just for him.
~
One of the things that surprises Kent, although looking back at all the time they've known each other, it really shouldn't have, about living with Jack - which he still can't believe! He's living with Jack! - is all the small and silly rivalries they develop between the two of them. Not just workout weights and Pokemon Go and chel, but exactly how many steps they have to take up the stairs when they're taking the stairs. (Jack's cheating, he's always been cheating, he's taller.) How long it takes them to - well. Kent's not counting that. (He can't be blamed, he feels, for being desperate.)
And - here's the thing. Kit's Kent's cat, okay? She loved him when no one else would. And now that she appears to prefer Jack Zimmermann's lap, the traitor, Kent can't even exactly blame her. It's his favorite place in the world, too, with or without Kit.
But if Jack Zimmermann thinks he can take more, or better, pictures of Kit than Kent does? Well, he's got another think coming. Kent has practice here, Kent has years of love and dedication on his side. What does Jack have, a fancy camera and a few college credits of classes? Not a chance, Zimms.
~
Jack's insta numbers are catching up, though.
Kent can see why, he supposes, if he's honest. But really he'd rather tease Jack. Tickle Kit's tail when Jack's setting up for a shot to make her move, putting his hands on Jack to distract him instead.
Or, well, just for fun.
~
"Hey, Zimms," Kent says. He has to go back to Vegas for training camp in a couple weeks, and he's already starting to miss this. Hoping it'll really be here next summer. "Why do you always take pictures of Kit, but you never take pictures of me? People would think that she's your girlfriend, and I'm just along for the ride."
Jack looks puzzled. "I do take pictures of you."
Kent waves his hands, trying to explain. "Yeah, but, I mean. How come you don't post the pictures? On insta, or wherever."
"Kenny." Jack comes closer, and drops a closed-mouth kiss upside down on Kent's forehead. Kent could just melt; he doesn't care about the question anymore. "Is this one of those, if the tree falls in the forest, does anyone hear it, type questions?"
"Maybe?" Kent hunches his shoulders: uncomfortable, when you're hanging off the edge of the couch. "How should I know? You know I never went to college."
~
Kent falls asleep for his afternoon nap three-quarters on and one-quarter off the couch, blanketed by a purring Kit Purrson. Jack drapes a blanket over his bare legs and boxer shorts as he's falling asleep, keeping him warm, and Kent says, muzzily, "Thanks, Zimms."
When he wakes up and checks his phone - that's standard operating procedure. He needs to see who's said what about him, always. He sees that Zimms posted yet another photo of Kit while he was sleeping. He clicks in.
It's busted all his high scores. But he can't even be made, because mashed into the soft white fur of Kit's underbelly that takes up most of the frame is, unmistakably, the profile of his face, all scrunched up in sleep. Messy hair and all - but the beam of sunlight that must've cut across the room makes it look like golden flames. Zimms made the scene, ordinary and everyday, look like some sort of ideal heaven.
@coyotesuspect replied to your post “so I’ve rounded up all my comments to try to make them into fic, meta,...”
CPA PARSE AU!!! I was all over that thread!!! I loved that thread. WHAT IS THE MULTIPLIER FOR I LOVE YOU. What parts of it are you thinking of writing?
I wrote a few comments in earlier parts, but I really picked up the thread post-Parse graduating, and that’s what’s strongly alive in my head, those final few confrontational scenes. Bitty throwing Jack out of the haus; Parse finding him at the bar and waiting for the taxi; the final ridic faily breakup with Bitty, and getting together with Parse after the game, and gaming the spreadsheets <333.
And for any of it to make sense you’d need at least 1. Jack and Parse deciding to stop with the destructive hookups and 2. Parse facilitating zimbits to start with,
... but, no, I’m not writing any of it, it’d need to be huge, and I struggle so much with getting things done at all, and if I’m writing something new and sizable it needs to be ‘Jack and Parse run away from the Q.’ (And then Jack, like, doesn’t die of cold turkey benzo withdrawal, because these kids are both fuckin idiots!!!)
