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@happyzimm I always love seeing your gorgeous art on my dash. Thank you for sharing your talent with the fandom! I’m looking forward to creating your gift!
I tried to give you some mild angst, through the eyes of both Jack and Bitty, with a happy ending.
No real content warnings, although sexual activity is discussed.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Happyzimm! I had a lot of fun looking through your blog before I wrote it. I hope you like it!
JLF
Switcheroo
Jack woke up and stretched. He felt … lighter than usual. Not as sore, anyway. Well, last night had been good. Really good.
He reached over to run a hand down Bitty’s side, to see if he would be amenable to waking early. Maybe reprise last night.
But when he reached over to where Bitty should be, his hand bumped the back of a shoulder rather than dropping onto Bitty’s arm. It was like Bitty had grown several inches broader across the shoulders overnight.
Jack opened his eyes and nearly jumped out of bed. Whoever that was, it wasn’t Bitty. The man was turned away so Jack couldn’t see his face, but he was big and had messy dark hair.
Then Jack saw his own hand. Or the hand attached to his arm, which was definitely not his. It was small, with slim, tapering fingers. The hair on the back of it was barely visible in the clear morning light. Blond. It was blond.
Instead of caressing his boyfriend, Jack used his small hand to prod the man’s shoulder.
“Wake up,” he whispered.
The man grumbled – a deep voice, not Bitty’s tenor – and turned over, opening ice-blue eyes.
Then he scrambled to a sitting position, arms and legs flailing.
Whoever it was was in Jack’s body, complete with pale skin, the bruise over his ribs from the Bruins game, and stretch marks that were visible as the man pulled his thighs to his chest, eyes raking over Jack.
“Jack?” the man asked in Jack’s own voice. “You look like me.”
“Bitty?” Jack said, relief flooding him at the sound of Bitty’s drawl, even if the pitch and timbre of the voice was all wrong.
“What happened?” Bitty asked, looking down at himself. “You’re … me? And I’m you?”
“I still feel like me,” Jack said. “But, yeah, it looks you have my body, and I have yours.”
***********************
Jack had to move the seat in his truck up almost as far as it would go to drive Bitty to Samwell. Actually, to drive himself to Samwell. Where he would go to Bitty’s class on the creation of consumer society and take Bitty’s French quiz.
“I can’t go,” Bitty said. “Madame Battier knows me. Or what I look like. And you can’t go to practice looking like that.”
“I don’t know, bud,” Jack said. “I think I look pretty good.”
Jack had spent extra time in the shower, getting familiar with Bitty’s body. So many things were different: The angle of the shower head was all wrong, and the front of his hair drooped into his eyes when it got wet. His toothbrush felt too big for his mouth, and when he went to shave, he realized it really wasn’t necessary.
He wore a pair of Bitty’s skinny jeans, which were more comfortable than he expected, with a black T-shirt and a flannel shirt that didn’t fit him (Jack) any more. Bitty had to help him get his hair right.
Bitty found a pair of blue sneakers in the back of Jack’s closet, refusing to wear Jack’s favorite yellow shoes. He’d pulled on a pair of Jack’s tailored jeans and a sweater, with Jack’s usual athletic gear in a gym bag in the back of the truck.
Bitty had accompanied Jack to morning skate often enough to know the Falconers’ routines. He was a good skater, a good hockey player, and he knew Jack’s style of play better than anyone.
When Jack pulled up in front of the Haus, he pulled Bitty’s messenger bag from the back seat, then tried to kiss Bitty goodbye. Except he forgot he had to look up.
“Up here,” Bitty said. “Ugh. I still sound like me, don’t I? It’s your voice and my accent. I’ll just try not to talk much to the Falcs. They’ll believe I’m you if I just grunt at them, won’t they?”
“Haha,” Jack said. “I’m planning to stay out of the Haus as much as I can. You have practice tonight, right? Maybe we can meet up and try to switch back before then.”
“And how are we gonna do that?”
“You know how last night was so good?” Jack said. “I thought maybe that’s what did it. I mean, I felt like we really connected. Maybe if we do it again, we’ll switch back.”
“You think we should …”
“Well, yeah,” Jack said.
“And not just because you want to try that in opposite bodies?”
“Not just because of that,” Jack said, then watched ablush rise in his own face, and saw himself giggle before Bitty leaned down to kiss him and climbed in the truck and drove away.
***********************
Of course Tater was the first person Bitty saw when he arrived for morning skate. Of course he wolf-whistled at what was really a very unexceptional outfit. The only reason it looked good was the body inside it, and Bitty couldn’t take any credit for that.
But Tater didn’t know that.
“Looking good, Zimmboni,” he said. “B picked out your clothes today?”
Bitty snickered – drawing a strange look from Tater – and said, “Something like that.”
“Is B coming to the game tonight?” Tater asked. “He’ll bring pie? Or jam? Or cookies?”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” Bitty said. “I think he has practice.”
“He was here, I think,” Tater said. “You sound like him, a little bit.”
Dang. Bitty shrugged. “He went back to Samwell this morning.”
Then he ducked into the locker room to change.
Warm-ups in the gym weren’t bad – between watching the other guys and knowing Jack’s routines, Bitty did alright at imitating Jack. Until he tried to lean over to stretch and couldn’t reach his ankles. How did Jack even move around like that?
Skating like Jack was more difficult. Jack was a good skater, clean and efficient in his use of edges, but he was all power. Any grace was a side effect of his commitment to getting from Point A to Point B in the straightest line possible.
Which was not at all how Bitty skated. He was powerful too, but he put his momentum to use, swinging around defenders, going right when they thought he’d go left, spinning away from defensemen instead of skating through them.
He thanked whatever deity was looking down on him that he was mostly over his checking problem, and soon realized that both giving and taking hits felt far different in Jack’s bigger body.
He thought he was succeeding at skating like Jack until he was faced with Guy looming in front of him. He deked around him, spun off of Thirdy and carried the puck in on Snowy, leaving much of the team slack-jawed in his wake.
“It’s just practice,” Thirdy said. “No need to show everyone else up, right?”
Bitty looked back, suddenly uncertain, and Thirdy grinned to show there were no hard feelings, but it looked a little shaky. Because, yeah, morning skate before a game was not the time to make the Falconers’ defensemen question their skills. And it wasn’t Thirdy’s fault; he had been expecting Jack to skate like Jack.
“What’d you have for breakfast?” Marty said. “You’re spinning around like your boyfriend.”
“B was here,” Tater chimed in.
“Then maybe don’t tell me what you ate,” Marty said. “But keep it up, kiddo.”
He kept to himself and thanked his lucky stars that Jack wasn’t the motivational speech kind of captain while he stripped out of his gear and headed for the shower. Then he dressed for the fourth time that day. No wonder Jack favored athletic clothes with as few fasteners as possible.
Bitty joined the lunch line, loading his plate with chicken (bland), sweet potatoes (baked) and steamed asparagus and broccoli. He was starving like he used to be when he was thirteen and had just started working with Katya five days a week. Jack must feel like this every day.
He took his lunch to the end of one of the tables, hoping the team would get the message and leave him alone.
“You okay?” Marty asked, speaking softly as he approached. “If I was over the line before, implying – well, if I went too far, I’m sorry.
“I’m fine,” Bitty said.
“Are you sure? Because you’re usually in a better mood when Bitty’s been in town,” Marty said. “You don’t really seem like yourself.”
You don’t know the half of it, Bitty thought.
“Yeah, I don’t feel quite right,” was all he said.
“Do you think you can play tonight?” Marty asked.
“Yeah,” Bitty said. “I’ll go home and nap and – and I’ll be fine by the game. Y’all don’t have to worry.”
Bitty re-ran the sentence in his head when he saw Marty’s delighted look. Dang.
“Y’all?” Marty said. “That kid really is rubbing off on you.”
“Haha,” Bitty deadpanned.
There was a brief film session after lunch, which Bitty tried to pay attention to, even though he was sure Jack had watched these clips last night. Then, mercifully, he could head for Samwell.
***********************
Pick me up at Annie’s? Jack texted.
He’d tried to avoid Bitty’s team, but it seemed like wherever he went on campus, he was accosted by someone Bitty knew. Nursey waved from across the quad, and Dex walked the last stretch to the history building with him, complaining about his own history class all the way. At least Dex didn’t seem offended that Bitty wasn’t talking much.
Then a woman – Jack thought it was Shruti, the women’s rugby captain – caught up to him near the D-hall, followed him to a table, and started talking about a joint fundraiser for a local charity.
Jack knew the event was happening – Bitty had been talking about for the past month – but it hadn’t seemed like something Jack needed to retain details about, especially since the details Bitty went on about were mostly what he could make for a bake sale.
After ten minutes, Shruti seemed less than impressed with his (Bitty’s) commitment to the project. That really wasn’t fair, because Bitty had probably done everything he promised. Probably at the expense of his schoolwork, even.
“Look,” Jack broke in. “I have to go study for my French quiz, but would it help if I got Jack to come and sign autographs and take selfies and such?”
Shruti pulled up short.
“That’d be great,” she finally said. “But you said at the beginning of the year that one thing you would not do was bring your boyfriend into things like this. ‘He deserves to live a normal life,’ I believe you said.”
Jack shrugged.
“The cause means a lot to him,” he ventured.
“Providing feminine hygiene supplies to a domestic violence shelter means a lot to him?”
Her disbelief was plain.
“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “Did you ever meet Shitty Knight? He played with Jack all four years.”
“Shitty who now?”
Anyway, Jack didn’t trust himself to go to the Haus.
He was standing outside Annie’s with his herbal tea, looking for his truck, when Chowder ran up to him, calling and waving.
“Bitty! Bitty, did you get the message?” he was saying.
“Uh, no?” Jack said.
“No practice. There’s a problem with the boards at Faber,” Chowder said. “You know – new Zamboni driver and all.”
“Okay,” Jack said.
“So I was wondering if maybe you’d make –”
Jack didn’t let Chowder finish.
“I think I’ll take the free night to see Jack’s game,” he said.
“Oh, okay,” Chowder said, still cheerful. “Oh, is that why you have the tea? Did you already know? Tell Jack good luck!”
“I will,” Jack promised as his truck appeared. Crap. He should have gotten a latte for Bitty.
“See you tomorrow!” Chowder said as Jack climbed in the passenger seat.
***********************
The attempt to switch back didn’t work.
With practice being canceled, It seemed like the universe was paving the way for them.
But when they got back to Jack’s condo, and tried to find the connection they’d felt in bed the night before, it just wasn’t there.
First, they had to decide just how to do things. Did it matter who had done what, or just what body had done what? When it came to some things, they just decided to play it safe and try it both ways. They couldn’t do everything like that, both because there was such a thing as a refractory period and because Jack had a game in a few hours.
Maybe they still could have found the connection, if they tried hard enough, but Jack found it distracting to feel things the way Bitty did, to find spots on Bitty’s body that he hadn’t yet discovered were extra sensitive. Bitty seemed thrown by having a bigger body than he was used to.
“Oh, my gosh, look at us,” Bitty said. He had Jack’s body curled around Bitty’s body, and Jack found the sense of being surrounded oddly comfortable. “I can cup your rear end in my hands.”
“It’s your rear end,” Jack protested. “And we knew it fit in my hands. I do that all the time.”
“I know, and now I can see why,” Bitty said. “It’s kind of fun.”
“It’s a nice feeling from here, too,” Jack said. “But I guess I never asked – is it okay that l like to do that? Do you like it?”
“Sweetpea, of course I do,” Bitty said. “You know how nice it feels now, and if I didn’t like it, I would have said. Don’t worry yourself. You’ve got a game tonight.”
“Looks like you might have a game, bud,” Jack said. “If we don’t switch back. What do you say we both get some sleep?”
“That’s probably smart,” Bitty said. “After all, we were asleep when it happened.”
***********************
Bitty knew he was still in Jack’s body when he woke up. His own body never ached so much. He slipped out of bed to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, using the whole-grain bread he baked especially for Jack, the organic peanut butter and Aunt Judy’s strawberry jam.
He was staring at the sandwich when Jack stumbled out of the bedroom.
“You’d better get ready to go, bud,” he said. “You need to wear a suit.”
“I can’t do this, Jack,” Bitty said. “Going to morning skate and team lunch is one thing. This is a game. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Jack said. “You belong out there more than I do right now. I don’t know exactly what happened, but Marty texted to see if I was feeling better, and he said, ‘As long as you skate like this morning, you’ll be fine.’”
“But I don’t play like you.”
“Just try,” Jack said. “Play like me as much as you can, but if you can do a spinorama and make a shot, feel free. You’re a good player, Bits. I’ll be there watching; I texted George to get a ticket for you.”
An hour later, Eric walked into the arena, dressed in Jack’s charcoal gray suit with his favorite blue tie. He changed again – for the the sixth time? – and took the ice for warm-ups. He didn’t look for Jack in the crowd. He just skated his circles and took his shots, and made sure to make encouraging noises at the rookies.
Then the game was starting and Bitty skated into position across from Foligno for the faceoff.
He lost it and had to chase the puck. The Jackets passed it around until Poots managed a steal and Bitty chipped it down ice and came off.
He won his first faceoff on his third shift, mostly by not thinking about it and letting Jack’s hands do what Jack’s hands did.
By the middle of the second period, the game was tied 1-1. Bitty didn’t feel like he (Jack) was having his best game, but he was holding his own. Then Thirdy leaned over and said, “Skate like this morning, man. You gotta get around them.”
So Bitty did. He won a faceoff from Foligno, passed to Poots at the blue line and headed into the zone past Savard. Then he took the pass back, spun away from Johnson, and buried the puck over Bobrovsky’s right shoulder.
His hands were still in the air when he realized he wasn’t on the ice. He was on his feet, in the stands, wearing his own jeans and Jack’s jersey over a T-shirt, cheering for himself. His eyes were on Jack, now on the ice, looking right where Bitty was sitting.
He pointed at Bitty, skated past the bench for fist-bumps, and lined up for the faceoff.
Bitty pointed back and sat down to enjoy the rest of the game.
***********************
Jack pointed at Bitty in the stands, embraced Poots, and headed for the faceoff dot.
He didn’t know how he got here from the stands, but he wasn’t about to question it.
Later, driving back to the condo, Jack said, “Congratulations on your first NHL goal.”
“Not really,” Bitty said.
“Yes, really,” Jack said. “You might have been in my body, but it was all you. Maybe that was the point of the switch – for you to know you could do that.”
“Maybe,” Bitty said. “But the NHL was never my dream. Maybe the point was for you to know I could do it.”
“I always knew that, bud,” Jack said.
“Do the words ‘checking practice’ and ‘lucky shot’ ring any bells?”
“Okay, not always, but for a long time,” Jack said.
“Maybe it’s just – the ice is how we met, and how we got to know each other, and how we came out,” Bitty said. “Maybe it’s just a little ice magic for us, because on the ice is when we’re most ourselves.”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “I’m glad we’re back to normal, though. I’ve missed looking at you.”
