#future zimbits

[ohjustletmewriteinpeace]

You know, watching bdg grow a mustache made me realize how bitty could grow up to look like Coach.

Now, we all know that Jack is the spitting image of his father, and that fact is made use in many a future fic. 

May I therefore humbly present:

[omgpieplease]

GUYs. @awfulruby deserves so much damn love for their incredible art.

By some miracle i won their mini-sketchbook giveaway back in late June and asked for just...Zimbits in general and it just arrived today and it’s absolutely fantastic. Like there are so many GEMS in this.  LOOOK AT THAT BEAUTIFUL PUNK JACK. look at fucking NHL!Bitty and Jack showing off their missing teeth and being toothless hockey husbands. LOOK AT OLD ZIMBITS.  LOOK AT SLEDGE HOCKEY AU JACK. FUCK.

Anyway. Not my art, but I was just too flabbergasted by the awesome not to share. (Thanks Ruby you’re fucking amazing) GO. LOOK. AT. THEIR. ART.

[pongpalace]

Imagine Jack’s been playing in the NHL 10 years and Bitty organizes a surprise party to celebrate, and Jack gets ready thinking they’re just going out for a regular date night dinner so he comes down in dressed in a Samwell t-shirt and shorts and is putting on his yellow runners when Bitty ruins the whole surprise to make him go change into something nice because “so help me god Jack Zimmermann, 12 years later and those sneakers are still an eyesore.”

[wrathofthestag]

What is "NHL 36: Jack Zimmermann" about? : )

Hi! Okay, you know those videos the NHL makes which are basically a life in the day of? I wanted to write one about Jack just as he's about to retire. Here's a snippet...

At 40, Jack Zimmermann has a career most people dream of: three Stanley Cups, two Conn Smythe Trophies, a Hart Memorial Trophy, an Art Ross, Maurice "Rocket" Richard Trophy, and a pioneer in many ways both in the NHL and LGBTQIA+ communities.  On the verge of retirement, during his last season, we follow him through a roadie, family life, and more.  Jack Zimmermann on the art of having it all and knowing when to say goodbye on NHL 36.

February 18, 8:35 a.m.

CAMERA PANS TO A YELLOW HOUSE WITH A BLUE DOOR

A voice is heard from the other side of the door.

“Shhh!  Puck, stop!” 

The door opens and there stands Jack Zimmermann, sockless wearing basketball shorts and a sweatshirt. Jack stands and holds his dog back by the collar. 

“Au Pied,” he whispers kindly to the dog who obediently walks back inside the house.

“Hey, hello!  Come on in,” he quickly says with a smile.  “Good morning! Come in, please. Welcome to the Bittlemann household!”

[wrathofthestag]

how could i not ask about jack and the baby? (@parvuls)

Thanks for the ask @parvuls! <3 

Jack and the Baby is another work in the Parenthood, Please series that I haven’t written for in a looong time.  It was basically meant to be Fives’ birth story framed within the context of Beep Boop and Bitty going to Florida with Suzanne for a week.  It’s just quiet Jack contemplating fatherhood.

Jack laughed as he pushed Vincent on the swing. He never thought he would have this in his life, and now he can’t even imagine being without it.  He loved being a father.

“You like that, bud?”

Vincent squealed as Jack pushed him again.  The dad next to him looked over at Jack and spoke.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Oh, uh, fine, thanks.”

The guy reminded him of a LAX bro, somehow, but older. 

“So you’re stuck babysitting, too?”

“Babysitting?  Euh, no.  He’s my son,” Jack said not quite understanding.

The other dad shrugged and drank his coffee.

“Yeah, my wife had to go out of town for two days, her mother is sick, so here I am.”

Jack frowned and then smiled when he saw Vincent smile at him and extend his arms.  Jack lifted him out, pressed a kiss to his cheek, then looked at the dad. 

“It’s not babysitting if it’s your own kid, man.”

He took Celly’s leash and they walked down the park.

From the WIP asks.

[wrathofthestag]

ESPY and Me

Summary: Jack takes Coach to the ESPY awards.  A little Coach and Jack bonding. Short and sweet!

Coach readjusted his cufflinks.  They appeared straight.  Maybe?  Hell, the last time he wore cufflinks was at his wedding over 30 years ago, so he fiddled with them some more.  They were fine.  He, however, felt like a bull in a china shop in his tuxedo, but Suzanne had insisted.

Coach looked out the car window and watched the L.A. streets zoom by.

“It’s what everyone is going to be wearing, Rick,” Suzanne had said as she looked through a tuxedo rental website.

“Not everyone,” Coach protested.  “I guarantee you some of those kids will be wearing gym shoes and fancy tracksuits.”

Suzanne smirked as she turned away from her computer to look at Coach.  “Exactly.  Kids.”

Coach was pulled out of his headspace when Jack cleared his throat.  He turned to look at Jack.

“These penguin suits are the worst, right?” Jack said as he pulled at his collar.

“I feel like I should be performing some magic tricks or something,” Coach said.

“I told Bits I’d rather show up in my sweatpants, and he said, ‘Over my dead body.’”

Coach laughed and shook his head.  “Sounds about right.  Suze pretty much said the same thing.”

Jack placed an errant forehead curl back into place and exhaled shakily.

“You all right, son?” Coach asked.  

Jack smiled.  “I’m okay.”

He knew that crowds could sometimes be a bit much for Jack’s anxiety—especially under the watchful eye of the media.  He had promised Junior he would look out for Jack since neither he nor Bob would be attending that night.  Jack was the one that approached Junior and asked him if he thought Coach would be interested in going with Jack.  Coach had been surprised at the invitation, and frankly, touched.

“Well, anytime you wanna leave, we can just get out of there.”

Jack nodded.

Once they turned onto Georgia street, everything slowed to a halt.  Coach realized they must be close because he saw a sea of limos ahead and behind him.

“We should be pulling up in about 25 minutes, Mr. Zimmermann,” their driver said.

“Oh, thank you,” Jack said and took a swig of his water.   He smiled, then looked at Coach.  “So we’ll have to walk the red carpet and stop for a couple of interviews first, then we can go in.  It shouldn’t be too terrible.  I didn’t come last year, so my agent said I had to this time around.”

“Thanks for inviting me, son,” Coach said.

They finally pulled into near the Microsoft Theater, and someone opened Jack’s door.  Jack stepped out and waved as the crowd cheered.  Coach exited behind him.  There were way more people than he had anticipated.

Read the fic on AO3...

[wrathofthestag]

So imagine when Jack and Bitty finally move into their first home, Bitty is hemming and hawing over curtains---and there’s so much to do in the house---and can’t decide on a fabric or color. Jack, meanwhile, starts watching sewing tutorials on YouTube during roadies, and makes secret calls to Suzanne.  

And when Bitty returns from a two-day trip to New York to see his publisher, Jack surprises him with a pair of curtains he made for the kitchen with the brand new sewing machine he bought on the sly.

“Do you like them?” Jack asks, standing back as Bitty gently touches the fabric. 

(They are the same shade of blue as the haus kitchen curtains from all those years ago.)

“You made these?  For us?”

“For you,” Jack says. “I made them for you.”

Bitty’s eyes well with tears, touched by the sweetness of the gesture.

“They are the most beautiful curtains I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

And that’s how Bitty declares the slightly wonky, different sized curtains his most favorite thing about their new state-of-the-art kitchen.

[wrathofthestag]

Professor Jack: A Prelude in Five Parts

Summary: Jack's road to professorship was a long one, sometimes filled with self-doubt, but always with love and support. A sequel to "It Must Be Nice."  For @doggernaut.  My second piece written for the @fandomcares BLM auction.

+++

Prologue

Jack logged onto his Gmail and froze when he saw the message sitting there from Brown. Admission Decision is Ready.

“Bits,” Jack said softly. “Bitty? Can you wake up?”

Bitty turned to face Jack and slowly blinked his eyes open.

“Sweetpea, what’s wrong? Is Pearlie okay?”

“I… euh, I got an email from Brown.”

Bitty instantly sat up and looked at Jack with excitement. “And?”

“I didn’t open it yet.”

Bitty leaned over and pressed a kiss onto Jack’s cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

“But, we don’t know what they said yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Jack smiled at Bitty, then clicked on the link. He logged onto his application and took a deep breath.

“Dear Jack, on behalf of the Department of American Studies, we are pleased to inform you—”

Bitty screamed and jumped up onto his knees as Jack flung his laptop onto the bed.

“I’m in!” He yelled. “Crisse! I’m in!”

The two hugged one another, and Bitty cried out, “I knew it! I knew you could do it!”

Jack laughed as Bitty peppered his face with kisses.

I.

“How gee dee domestic is this?” Shitty asked as he flipped the burgers on the grill.

“You’re quite me grill master, man,” Jack said with a grin.

“Well, that’s what my apron says, brah,” Shitty said as he popped his chest proudly to show off the apron which read GRILL MASTER.

It had been a gift from Jack his last birthday after Shitty had said he was enrolling in a master grill class. Shitty attended one class, declared the entire workshop an exercise in self-indulgent male behavior, and then stopped going. The apron had been a joke gift between the two that Shitty absolutely adored.

“Shits, can you throw the corn on the grill, too?” Lardo called as she popped her head out the window.

“I’ll go get it,” Jack replied.

“Good, make yourself useful, man. Don't need to be standing around looking pretty. I already have an Adonis statue,” Shitty said as he pointed with his grill tongs to the miniature replica of David that stood tucked in the corner of his backyard.

Jack grinned. “You know that’s David, right? Not Adonis.”

“Keep bustin’ my pork chops, Zimmermann,” Shitty replied as he flipped another burger.

“You know those are burgers, right?”

Shitty faked a quick kick in Jack’s direction as Jack laughed and walked back toward the house.

“So y'all finally all settled in?” Bitty asked Lardo.

The two were inside working on desserts (well, more like Bitty was working while Lardo watched) and happily chatting when Jack walked in.

They tried to get together as a foursome at least twice a month. Shitty and Lardo recently bought a cute little home in Jamaica Plain within walking distance from the Orange Line, which made commuting for Shitty rather easy. The new move, however, meant that get-togethers were off the table for a bit.

“Well, there are still about six or seven boxes out in the garage we haven’t opened yet, but we decided that in six months if we hadn’t opened them yet, we’d just donate them. Whatever's inside them,” Lardo said.

She snatched a slice of apple from Bitty’s bowl.

“God, just open them already,” Bitty said, alarmed. “Heck, I’ll open them.”

“Corn?” Jack asked.

Lardo pointed to a large red bowl on the counter.

“Thanks,” Jack said.

“So, Jack, Bitty said you had some news to share?” Lardo asked, taking another apple slice. “You two having bebe number two?”

The three of them peeked outside the window and spotted Pearl. She was still playing on the grass, outside with Shitty, who was serenading her.

“Another baby? No, not that,” Bitty said.

“Bits, I thought we were going to wait until dinner?” Jack asked.

“I told her we had news, I just didn’t tell her what it was.”

Jack shook his head and grinned. “Big mouth.”

Bitty winked and continued mixing what was in his bowl.

Jack thought about his years at Samwell and how it had managed to put such amazing people in his life. He thought about late-night jaunts to Superberry, long lazy holiday weekends at the Haus when no one would go home, intense study sessions with the gang. For Jack, those years certainly cemented his love of school. And now, Shitty and Lardo were family. And Bitty, well, he wouldn't even imagine a life without him.

“Anyway, like I was saying…” Bitty said as he smiled at Jack.

+

“Here’s to another successful meal by The Grill Master,” Shitty said as he raised his beer.

“And to your beautiful new home and future,” Bitty added. "Speaking of the future…"

“You two having another baby?” Shitty asked.

Jack grinned, and he watched Pearl eat her tiny hamburger patty.

“No, actually, euh, remember I was talking about grad school?”

“Yep, a most capital idea, too, brah. Reading, writing, arithmetic--”

“And?” Lardo prompted

“And,” Jack said with a soft smile as he glanced at Bitty. “I got in. Into Brown.”

“Holy shit, Jack!" Lardo said as she jumped up to hug Jack.

Shitty, meanwhile, was already wiping the tears from his face.

“I knew you could do it, brah. My most beautiful, excellent brah.”

“Oh lord,” Bitty said as he went over to comfort Shitty.

“I found out last week but wanted to tell you two in person,” Jack said as Lardo ruffled his hair.

“Jack, that is so amazing. Congrats, dude,” she said.

“I knew he'd get it,” Bitty said. “I told him they'd be a fool not to take him.”

“You okay there, Shits?”

“I love this, so much.” he sniffled.

“Now you're both Ivy League,” Bitty said.

“Ivy Schmivy!” Shitty yelled. “You know what this means? Another shot through the heart of stereotypical masculinity. The Jack Laurent Knight Zimmermann, Stanley Cup super jock is showing everyone—yet again—that he's more than just a pretty face; that a man can be more! Brown, man. That's a big fucking deal.”

Jack felt his face flush as he began to take in Shitty’s words.

He hadn't counted on the expectations from the public at large. And shit, Jack guessed there would be some but hadn't thought about it. Ultimately, the public could go to hell, but now he was aware of expectations.

"Oh, it's not a big deal--"

Shitty laughed.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Jack totally Good Will Hunted some douchebag our frog year?”

“No!” Bitty, Lardo, and Jack all yell out simultaneously. Pearl stared at them all while she quietly ate a biscuit.

“Picture it, Sicily, 1912…” Shitty began as Jack covered his face. “We’re at a kegster our frog year, and Jack is talking to this girl--Samantha, right?”

Bitty’s eyebrow raised. “The Samantha?” he asked with a mischievous grin as Jack groaned.

“Shh!” Lardo interjected with glee as she motioned to Shitty to continue.

“So I’m across the room, watching as this one—who I’d been trying to crack like an egg for weeks—is finally showing signs of life whilst talking to good old Sammy.”

“Whilst?” Jack asked.

“Shh!” Bitty and Lardo said.

“And I start to get closer enjoying my cheap, but plentiful, alcohol so I can listen in, and maybe begin to contribute. Anything for senpai to fucking notice me—when all of a sudden some jackass moves in and start yammering about something or another about Heller and Vonnegut, sounding like a condescending, pedantic, mansplaining prick.”

Jack turned red and shrugged. “He was misquoting Vonnegut, man.”

“I love this guy!” Shitty howled as he pointed at Jack. “Then, then, Jack drops the hammer. Bam! Classily tells that dillhole how wrong he is, and makes him regret getting out of bed that year.”

“Sweetpea! You put some guy in his place off the ice? That is so hot!” Bitty said.

“He implied the hockey team was stupid," Jack said with a shrug. "So, I had to set him straight."

“It was a thing of beauty,” Shitty said with a grin. “‘Hope that clears it up for you, bro.’ Fucking classic.”

Shitty looked at Jack with a certain softness last seen when he proposed to Bitty at Faber.

“It’s gonna be great, brah,” he said. “You’re gonna be great.”

Continue on AO3...